#anyway this is basically the same thing I was saying when they initially announced distant lands

[corbinite]

I don’t want a fionna and cake series. Please hbo just let this show have a narratively satisfying end pleaaase. The ending of adventure time was so good and such a good sendoff and it only WORKS if it’s an actual ending, it only works if we’re actually saying goodbye. Literally the whole message of the finale was that sometimes you have to let things end and accept that things will never be how they were, and that there’s beauty in that acceptance because no matter what changes it doesn’t erase what you had. You cannot literally have that be the entire THESIS of the last three or four seasons and then keep drawing it out for cash and nostalgia

[goblinkingdomsblog]

Hello I hope you are doing well !! I was wondering if it okay to request the mafia universe where they meet the agent y/n have a moment but then the agent smile and go away in like we will meet again kinda way I’m sorry if it’s too much you don’t have to do it I appreciate your writing and love it thank you for your hard work 💕

They get hurt while running away from the police, but agent y/n helps them - part 1

Members: hyung line.

Genre: mafia!AU, reaction.

Premise: during a police chase, one of the mobsters ends up getting injured. Suddenly, you appear when he least expected it, willing to help him. You say you will see each other again in the future. With complete certainty: after all, you will guarantee it yourself.

TW: (V) = Violence.

Mafia Series Masterlist

Mafia Series Plot

Hii!! I hope you enjoy this post, and that it meets well your request!

I'm really happy to know that you like the things that I write! Thank youu!!! 💜❤😁

+ Sorry for the delay, I wanted to make a long version of this reaction. The part 2 is already posted!

"We'll see each other again, don't worry."

Namjoon:

The damn right leg. It was always that damn leg.

Namjoon gasped, lowering himself against the wall of the dark alley. The smell there was not at all pleasant, and the humidity certainly wouldn't leave his expensive suit unpunished, but he was too busy to care about that at the moment.

Everything happened in a flash: one hour, he was sitting comfortably on a soft leather sofa, talking to the leaders of the other two most important gangs in Seoul (maintaining good relations between partner companies was essential); on the other, he was running down the wet sidewalk, after escaping from the building through a side door. The damned police had somehow discovered the secret meeting, probably through a traitor, and had invaded the place, trying to kill three birds with one stone.

Even his security guards had stayed behind, exchanging shots with the police to give him enough time to escape. He hated having to escape, looking like a coward, but he knew it was necessary.

Another thing he hated: he couldn't run fast without dropping at least one of his weapons, or himself. It was in a fall on the wet street that he had injured his leg, the same one that had broken twice before, and that now was hurting again thanks to his shitty motor coordination. He knew he was being chased, so he got up and forced himself to run for several more blocks, until the pain became too unbearable to walk. It was at that moment that he hid in the alley, where he was until now.

Suddenly, the sound of heavy footsteps echoed in the wet darkness. Without a gun, he could do nothing but watch, hoping his bad luck wasn’t that glaring that day.

When you turned into the alley with your weapon in your fists, using its wall for protection, you saw him immediately.

The mafia boss, sitting on the floor, with an empty expression.

Frowning, you checked if that was a trap and if there was someone around, but he seemed completely alone. Raising your voice, you announced your presence, and the first thing he saw was your well-equipped uniform.

- Hands up. Put them behind your head. - you said, with controlled calm.

Namjoon sighed, obeying slowly.

- I'm unarmed. You don't need to be alarmed.

- Get up and come over here. - you ordered, ignoring his words.

The mobster started to get up, but then he slid back down the wall. He tried a couple more times, until he gave up and lay motionless on the floor.

- Hurry up.

- I am unable. I think I broke my leg again. - he murmured, almost as if admitting it was a shame.

Suspicious, you didn't move forward initially. You checked the alley again, but no one was in sight. So, you decided to use a different strategy: you approached with the gun pointed at his head, after all, none of the henchmen would dare threaten the life of their leader (or at least that was what you hoped to be true).

- If you try anything "funny", I swear I'll kill you, okay? - you hissed, bending down in front of him.

The man's legs were stretched out in front of him, and the right was in an ugly position, proving that he was telling the truth. The bone must have torn the flesh, because a bloody wheel was beginning to form in his pants. It would be disgusting to anyone who was not used to brutality.

- How did you get hurt like that?

- Let's say that this specific bone is not the strongest. It is already the third incident that occurs with the poor thing. - he tried to laugh, perhaps to feel better about himself, but the pain prevented him.

You then took a deep breath. You couldn't leave the man bleeding there, even if he wasn't the best of people. It went against your values.

By slowly lowering the weapon (but keeping it within immediate reach), you began to roll up your uniform sleeves. The basic first aid classes you took when you joined the police would have to do.

- What will you do? - he asked, lost in hesitation and fear, as he noticed your approach.

- I will help you not to bleed a river. But it will really hurt, and it will be a really temporary solution. - you answered, seriously.

Without saying anything more, the man just fell silent, a thoughtful expression appearing on his face.

You put your hands firmly on his leg and, using the techniques you had learned, started to push. The pain was absurd, but he preferred to bite his lip until it bled rather than scream. Of course, being a fugitive from the police should be part of the motivation for not making too much noise.

The cracking of bones when they went back to place was hollow and dark, but at least the meat stopped being kept open. Taking a serious look at him, you noticed that the man was pale with pain, looking like he was about to pass out.

- Breathe in. The worst is over. - you replied, rummaging through your belt until you found the bandages you always carried along, in case of personal emergencies.

Carefully but firmly, you started to bandage his leg, just to stop the bleeding and keep the leg in place for as long as possible.

- Don't move too much, or you could make your situation even worse.

The man remained silent for a few minutes, just watching your serious expression and your nimble hands as you bandaged his leg. He wasn't sure about how to react, after all, that kind of situation was not quite what a mobster would expect from a police agent.

- Uh... why are you helping me?

You lifted your head, facing him directly.

- One of the most important parts of doing justice involves not letting anyone bleed to death. And even if your wound is not that deadly, I believe that waiting for a long time in a wet alley is not the most ideal healing scenario. - letting go and wiping your hands on the leftover gauze, you took your gun out of your belt and stood up - I'll give you the advantage of not immediately telling them where you are. But hope your henchmen find you fast.

He watched you walk away, going back cautiously to the exit of the alley.

- But... I... - unable to formulate a coherent sentence and not wanting to look like an idiot, Namjoon just gave up asking questions - I suppose that's what it means to be on the good side. Thank you anyway.

Surprisingly, you turned around one last time. The smile that shone on your face exposing all your teeth and lifting the corners of your mouth, giving you an air of extreme cleverness, took away the little breath that was left to Namjoon.

- Oh, but you don't need thank me now, because we will meet again. And next time, I'm not going to be that good. - clicking your tongue, you took a step towards the darkness - You better be well prepared.

So, you're gone, leaving him alone in the alley until the moment he would be found by the other gang members (which took a little longer than it should have).

Seokjin:

Shit!

That whole day was being terrible. First, Jin had started by clashing with members of a rival gang. Then the police arrived, shooting anyone they saw ahead. It was in the middle of so many fights that he ended up being shot in the palm of his hand, and his dominant hand!

Pressing his hand against his now-stained shirt chest, he continued walking through the seemingly empty industrial quarter, unsure of how to hold his revolver straight.

Everything should have been a simple negotiation, but things got off track too quickly.

His palm had already bled so badly that the entire front of his shirt was red. In addition, he could no longer move his fingers, which was a really bad signal. Containing a sob, he let a few tears roll down his face.

He was concerned with his own hand, but his biggest concern was if it would lose its usefulness forever. How would he be a hacker after that, without being able to type?

It was at that moment that you found him wandering alone and desperate. You had been looking for the fugitives in the more distant streets, to make sure they didn't get far. However, when you found the boy crying, a part of the adrenaline that dominated your mind dissipated. He barely held a gun, after all.

With patience, you announced your presence. When he saw you, he threw his head back in mourning, as if he were indignant at the heavens.

- I can't handle it right now! - he whimpered.

Rolling your eyes, you approached, your gun in hand.

- Don't worry, I won't shoot if you don't do anything stupid.

Eyes widening, he pulled his hand away from the body, in a strangled cry.

- How would I do it if there's a hole in my hand?!

Even a few feet away, the fact that it was possible to see through his hand was disturbing. The bullet had gone in and out, leaving a hole with color of blood, bones and nerves showing. Yes, the boy's despair was justified. You just kept calm because you've seen a lot of complicated situations like that before.

- You have to stop the bleeding!

- How am I going to do this with one hand?! - the silent tears continued to run down his face.

Sighing, you finally approached, scaring him by holding his hand.

- What is this?!

- A basic aid, considering that the nearest hospital is two kilometers from here. - you replied simply, taking improvised bandages from inside the jacket of your uniform.

There was not much to do about that hand other than to stop the bleeding. Avoiding looking at his blood-soaked shirt (which was not a pleasant sight at all), you began to wrap the wound with the fabric, covering the hole and tightening the bandage tightly.

He let out a sob of pain, but he didn't back down, knowing he needed to put up with it.

- Take good care of this wound.

He wiped his wet face with his healthy hand, sniffling.

- I don't even know if I'll have a hand after this! - the reaction would be comical if it weren't tragic. The panic in his voice was real.

So, you closed your expression, getting completely serious.

- You will take care of your hand and you will stop being pessimistic. It'll be there the next time we meet. - so, you gave a smile of certainty, small but absolute.

Then, moving away, you raised your weapon again, passing by him.

It took a few seconds for Seokjin to understand what you had said. The pain left him with slow thinking.

- Hey, next time?! - he exclaimed, turning in your direction.

Unfortunately, you were too far away to be stopped. He watched you leave for a much longer time than the expected.

Yoongi:

He was no longer able to walk, so he didn't force himself anymore. It didn't matter that he was inside the same building that the police were still in: he just couldn't get away anymore.

Limping painfully for a few more steps, he sat down in the narrow hall, resting his back against one of the walls. He and his two customers had been caught during the delivery of a shipment of heroin, and one of the damned customers had stabbed him to have time to escape. Literally.

With a small knife stuck in his thigh, Yoongi was actually slower than the others, easier to be captured. He was just lucky to be in the company of his most trusted friends, who came into conflict with the police just so he could run. He was worried about them now, of course, and he couldn't even repay their sacrifice and really escape. The pain was so much, and the blood on his clothes was so much, that his veins seemed to be filled with acid, which caused a burning sensation in his entire body.

Closing his mouth to try to hold his breath and feeling the sweat on his forehead, he leaned his head against the wall, looking at the ceiling for a few moments. The knife was still stuck in his leg and needed to be pulled out. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and counted to three. Then, lifting his trembling hands, he put them on the handle of the knife. That gesture alone was enough to make more cold sweat run down the back of his neck.

Then, as he prepared to pull the knife out, you appeared at the end of the hall. Wide-eyed, you observed the injured man and what he intended to do.

- Wait! Don't pull it! - you exclaimed, startling him.

I mean, Yoongi got scared, but the only thing he did was to turn his head slowly towards you, without really expressing fear.

You turned the other way, knowing that your colleagues were close. Specifically, a colleague who hated mobsters, and who would certainly have no mercy when shooting a man who was already injured. There was even a trail of drops of blood on the carpet, which went as far as the dealer was left.

- Why not? Sometime it will have to go. - he said, in a weak voice, with the tone of someone who no longer cared.

You slowly lowered your weapon when you realized that he was not carrying any gun. Then you looked at him again, snorting when you realized that you would need to act quickly.

Too many people had been hurt that day. You needed to fix the situation. Then, running up to him, you bent down in front of the man.

- You were stabbed in your thigh, that is full of important blood vessels. In addition, you are already bleeding too much. - you said, scolding him with some anger - If you pull the knife, it can make the situation worse and cause a much worse bleeding. Even though it hurts, the knife seems to be stopping the wound.

Too impressed by how straightforward you were, he just remained silent, nodding his head to signal that he would obey. In the distance, you heard your angered colleague's voice. Then you faced the mobster again, running your hands over his shoulders.

- I'm going to get you out of here and put you in a place where you're not in the immediate sight of a gun. But I can't do anything else. You will need hospital care.

Yoongi opened his eyes wide when you started to help him up, shocked by the situation as a whole.

- Why are you doing this? - he asked, his voice low and strangled with pain.

With effort, you managed to get him upright, but you were practically carrying his full weight.

- Because I think people should go through a fair trial, and not just get shot in the head like will happen if I leave you here. - striving to walk, you started down the corridor, towards the basement of the building - And make sure that your leg does not leave a trail of blood behind us, even if you have to tighten the fabric of your pants around the wound.

Again, he obeyed without protest, containing a cry of pain as he prevented the blood from dripping on the floor. He was shaking and sweaty, and the pain he was enduring must have been scary. Still, that was better than leaving him to die.

You followed as quickly as possible to the staircase, and each step was a sacrifice for Yoongi. The black mask you were wearing, part of the uniform, prevented him from seeing your face, but your eyebrows were frown at the smell of blood and the man in agony.

When you reached the basement, you hid the man behind a tall and heavy closet. The place was small, dusty and probably untouched for months. Still, you left him on the floor, sitting.

Stretching your aching back, you searched for the bad and cheap phone you used when you went to work, for emergencies. You turned it on and handed it over to the injured man, just before standing.

- Use this to call someone who can help you. It's the most I can do for you. - you said, as soon as he held the little electronic device.

Pale but with lively eyes, Yoongi took another deep breath to be able to speak through the pain.

- Thanks. - he said simply, closing his eyes when a flash of pain passed through his body. Then, he opened his eyes again - Isn't this phone tapped? It would be pretty easy to track me, then.

With a mysterious expression, you walked away. Even though you were wearing a mask, he could see the corners of your mouth going up to form a mysterious smile.

- You will have to find it out until the next time we meet. - you replied, taking your weapon from the belt just before leaving by the same staircase you had traveled before - Do not expect me to help you again.

Hoseok:

Hoseok was crying, something he hated to do. However, getting shot in the chest was not something that happened every day, and it was okay to cry in a situation like that.

With his hands pressed to the bleeding wound, he staggered down a deserted road in the hot dry night. The road was flanked by plantations, since it was located in the countryside, and the only noises there were that of the plants moving with the wind and that of the nocturnal animals.

He was afraid of those animals, after all, he smelled of blood. Still, nothing too dangerous should be there, as farmers would exterminate any creature. Even the "creature" himself, probably, if he appeared bleeding and wanted by the police in one of the houses far from the road.

He stumbled forward, needing to lean on one of the wooden fences. The pain in his chest was so strong that he had no idea where he was running to.

Suddenly, he felt the cold muzzle of a gun at the back of his head. As he bent over the fence, he stopped paying attention to the environment, and didn't notice when you approached silently.

- Hands up! - you hissed between teeth.

With a high-pitched cry, he remained in place.

- I'm using my hands to stop the bleeding from the shot your colleague gave me in the chest! - he exclaimed, his voice exuding real pain.

Swallowing hard, you wondered if it was true, and ordered him to turn around. When he did it, weak, the front of the shirt soaked in blood was proof enough.

The man's luck was that the shot had hit the right side of his chest and not the heart. The bullet was still lodged in his chest, but the bleeding was not aggressive enough to had hit an artery. That man was very, very lucky.

- Give me your gun. - you said, forcing the man to hand over his revolver. As soon as you made sure he was unarmed, you lowered your own weapon - Let me see.

By taking the man's hands away and looking more closely at the wound hole, you were sure that no very important veins had been hit. Then you started to take off the man's coat.

- Hey, what are you doing?! Isn't it enough that you invaded our place and killed 4 people?! - he exclaimed, irritated and scared.

Hearing those words was not pleasant, but they were true. So you didn't answer, just folding the jacket efficiently and wrapping it diagonally around his body, tying it tightly on his back.

- I'm helping you, you bastard.

Arching his eyebrows, he realized you were telling the truth.

- Why? - he asked, confused.

- Because nobody else is going to die today. I'll make sure of that. - you answered seriously - Now tighten the wound again. Prevent too much blood from being lost.

The man was already pale, but when he heard of blood, he became even more so. He swallowed hard, his face still wet with tears.

- Are you sure that I will not die?

You started to smile wryly, wanting to laugh at his crybaby face. However, as you watched his expression, you realized that his panic was real. You then changed your expression, smiling without showing your teeth but confidently.

- I am sure. We will meet in the future, because I will keep you alive. - you said, walking away - Now, run to the house after this plantation behind you and ask for help. I have to go back to the mission.

He wanted to say something else, but you were already walking away. The courage you gave him through your steady smile was enough.

He had the strength to run to the nearest house and ask for help.

Maknae line here.

The images used on this post are not mine, credits to the owners!

Kisses from the Goblin Kingdom! :)

[runessystem]

It took me four days to process and actually remember how horrible and traumatic my last ever appointment with my therapist was. (Like literally the last four days I had been feeling hyper vigilant and was unable to go to sleep and I literally didn't even realise why).

Anyway here's a list of fucked up shit my (ex) therapist of three years did, during our last appointment:

It turned out she hadn't even put my recent (of three months ago) treatment plan in the system yet, we literally had to do that together during out last appointment

I asked to see my diagnoses, there were only two old ones (I got three years ago at the start of treatment to get the gov money), and none of them described my symptoms accurately

She told me I didn't have PTSD when I asked her why it wasn't in my files. I've literally been diagnosed with PTSD since I was 15, even before getting therapy at the institute she works for. This woman literally tried to gaslit me into thinking all of my symptoms are from autism, the one and only diagnosis she initiated.

She tried to gaslit me into thinking we had discussed topics of getting treatment at a different institute, or the topic of her leaving (both never happened), to try to cover her ass, because she had announced her leave and her planning to stop all treatment (even the treatment I get from other therapists) in an email, a fucking reply to me canceling the session two weeks earlier.

Did I mention that she replied to my 5(!) Reply emails, asking for a replacement therapist, very distraught, with basically the same very cold and professional email of her telling me she's going to stop all treatment with vague reasons. But when I actually saw her in person for the last time she acted as if it was already clear that she was getting me a replacement therapist.

During the session she acted very cold and distant and interpretted my frustration as agression

She literally told me that she "already does too much for me, she already gives too much" (triggering) when she literally didn't even put my stuff in my files

I tried to tell her that I felt misunderstood, I felt like she didn't really listen and that she misinterprets my symptoms. Like I felt like there was a communication problem. She interpreted this as an attack. Told me so much about her "expertise as a therapist". She said she did so much for me outside out appointments, like discussing me with her colleagues. ALL THE WHILE she continued to discredit my experiences and blatantly belittle and misunderstand my symptoms. she made me re-tell all of the dissociative and traumatic symptoms I experience. When I got desperate and told her I "literally hear voices and they take over and do things on their own with my body" she said "that's a little much, but I guess that's just part of life, and you're the only one that can make it better, have you tried ignoring them?" HELLO???

She triggered two really scary, bad, flashbacks.

She kept telling me things about psychology that I thought were wrong, to discredit my knowledge and paint herself as the only smart one. She said that dissociative disorders are personality disorders (I'm not sure if this is true or not) and she also kept saying I'm not crazy enough to have a personality disorder.

She kept interpreting me setting boundaries within the conversation as attacks and pushed right through them.

At the end of the conversation when I was already tired from crying and having flashbacks I asked her to please stop. I asked her to stop the conversation, I didn't feel like we would get any further with it. She saw this as an attack (which made me reengage because I'm stupid) and then two sentences later she angrily stated that she didn't want to talk anymore and went to her desk to do the rest of the paper work. This triggered me even more because she said it quite loud and angrily and made me completely disengage even though she JUST made me reengage. I tried to explain this to her, in the most kind quiet way I could muster, and then she told me: that she got called during our appointment by her colleague, who asked if she needed assistance. Saying I was the loud one, implying that I was crazy, dangerous, that I was the bad guy and she was the one being attacked by me. And honestly that was really the cherry on top. I hope the reason she left the institute is because she got fired.

TL; DR

Didn't put my stuff in the system nor my files

Didn't put my diagnoses in the system not my files, now I need to do another diagnostic assessment

Gaslit the absolute hell out of me

Triggered me to have two violent flashbacks during the session

Told me wrong facts about my diagnoses in order to sound like the professional and make me question myself

Ignored and pushed away my boundaries

Set up boundaries in order to jab back at my recently ignored boundary.

Told me I was loud, voilent, crazy (but not crazy enough apparently), and that she was the one being attacked by me. I was literally just crying in a chair and having flashbacks while just sitting in a chair.

[my-writings-and-musings]

Please ignore this if you've gotten sick of this particular prompt, but may we please get another set of the Oxygen Deprivation scenarios, but this time with Ratchet and Megatron?? Regardless of if you do it or not, thank you for your hard work, I love everything you've written so far!

Thankfully I never tire of drama! I did the prompt for Megatron back in part three, but I've absolutely got some grumpy/caring medic for you! Thank you for taking the time to read my stuff and send in a request, it always makes my day!

Part One: Here!

Part Two: Here!

Part Three: Here!

Part Four: Here!

Part Five: You're Here!

Part Six: Here!

Part Seven: Here!

Part Eight: Here!

Part Nine: Here!

Part Ten: Here!

Part Eleven: Here!

Part Twelve: Here!

Ratchet

·You're in Swerve's with him for a nice evening off, something he enjoys a little more frequently than he used to thanks to the multitude of medics on board, but he appreciates every minute the two of you get to enjoy together regardless. There's hardly a lack of things to discuss, and you often find yourself listening to his stories until the bar closes and he has to carry you to berth. It's a little embarrassing for you, especially with every bot that knows thinking it's the cutest thing they've ever seen, but you admittedly enjoy being with Ratchet too much to care about how it looks. It doesn't hurt that he quite obviously enjoys it as well, especially when he's usually around those who only seek him out if they're sick, and he enjoys that he finally has an enthusiastic audience.

·The two of you are amongst the last of the patrons but still going strong one slow evening, with you perched atop a table whilst the older mech tells a story about a long ago incident in a medical lab where, upon being short staffed due to an ongoing battle, a patient had helpfully assisted with his own surgery. Though you're tired due to the hour, you're more than invested enough to keep your eyes open and listen along in fascination. It's not often he gets to go on like this, after all, and he looks absolutely adorable when he does.

·There's an unexpected flickering of the lights that stops everyone in their place, but it ends just quickly enough for the atmosphere to return to calm and for some bot to crack a joke about Swerve not paying his electric bill. You barely have time to chuckle before the whole ship is rocked like a boat on the open ocean, sending engex flying and glass shattering as everything not nailed down is tossed without a care, yourself included. Only the quick hands of an experienced medic save you from experiencing a not so gentle crash into the floor. Looking up once the dust settles to see Ratchet has you cupped safely in his palms, the two of you can't help but exchange a quick smile before the various bots around you start asking questions.

·Ratchet is quick to answer, keeping you in his hands to avoid the sea of broken glass as he stands. Any bot with decent battle experience on a ship like this recognizes what they all just felt, but being a bot who's seen more than his fair share of combat in space, he's able to explain that the size of the tremor indicates that they've been trapped by an enemy ship of smaller but not insignificant build. He gives them about five minutes before they're boarded, and instructs those gathered to head for emergency battle stations, as commands for defense will no doubt be incoming.

·Announcing his own intent to get to his post in the medical bay, the mech is quick to get going despite appearing outwardly calm, even promising Swerve he'll settle his tab when they get all this sorted. Holding you tight in one hand, he pulls up his communicator and tries to reach the bridge for specific instructions. To his frustration nothing comes through, and you find the same results when you make an attempt to establish communication with any top bot on your own communicator, prompting a few muttered swears from your partner. As usual, he's quick to get right to planning.

·Thankfully his designated task for any kind of emergency is exactly the same no matter the crisis; he heads to the medical bay and starts repairing the inevitable wounded. While you can't help with surgery, being that you're not much bigger than most of their tools, he posits that it makes sense for you to come with him. There's nothing more fortified than the medical bay, after all, so you can at least be somewhere safe. Though you're tempted to tease him about how obvious it is he wants you somewhere he can keep an optic on you, for now you decide to just settle in his hand and focus on what's ahead.

·Having been on many ships before this one, he's able to navigate with hardly a second thought, giving him a chance to keep his focus on you whilst he tries to keep figuring out the extent of the ship's difficulty. You can see him frown as he tries unsuccessfully to get his communicator working, and though you want to be stealthy for the sake of safety, you do want a better understanding of what's going on. Thankfully a human voice doesn't travel far through the hallways when spoken at conversational volume. Trying not to betray your anxiety, you ask if he can tell you anything about what to expect.

·Holding your tiny form a little closer, he hides the fact that he can see your apprehension clear as day, quite familiar with the brave face bots and humans alike will put on when in danger. Still, he certainly respects you enough to be honest. He explains that one ship latching on to another for an ambush these days is typically a pirate tactic, as they're more interested in selling the vessel afterwards or scrapping it for tech, unlike warring factions who will typically just blow each other up. There's probably already enemy forces on the ship, and they've certainly come well armed if they feel confident enough to take on Cybertronians.

·Your eyes dart around a little faster at that thought. Securing your hand against one of his digits, you remember they're sensitive enough to pick your heartbeat from just a touch, and the recollection stirs your affection whilst also making you think. If Cybertronians are so advanced, how can there be nothing working on this ship right now? Were there really no back up systems that could at least give you the basics? With the whole structure being the size of Manhattan, it'd be very nice to at least know if some areas might be safe, but then again bots tended to build things in a strange way. Nevertheless, your curiosity is so great you can't help asking a question.

·Ratchet pauses even as he keeps walking, his expression going distant in a way that initially makes you worry your query was taken with offense. But thankfully he speaks a second afterwards, looking inspired as he recalls a station of terminals not too far out of your path. It's more vulnerable, sure, but it also has physical connections to every part of the craft. He'd at least be able to conduct a system wide scan from there, and after that he'd have a much better idea of what they're up against. But he has to ask you first; are you comfortable with him taking the risk? Of course he'll always protect you, but there's a greater chance he'll need to do that if this path is chosen.

·You're smart enough to know exactly what he means. But there's a risk you'll bump into an enemy anyway, so wouldn't having a chance to get information like this be worth it? Oddly enough you seem more on board than he is with the plan, his friendly blue optics dimming with worry before you lay a comforting hand on his chest, smiling as you do so. This big mech cares so deeply for everyone, but you have a very special place in his loving spark, no matter how much he tries to pretend he's a grump. Your sentimental move seems to snap him back to hiding behind his mask, and he mutters something about feeling your heartbeat against his palm and how it's obvious you're nervous but if you say you're ready then he'll give this plan a try...

·For the sake of stealth he remains in bipedal mode, but he absolutely keeps you securely held to his chest, and you can't help but wish the circumstances were better because his spark humming beside you is impossibly soothing. Being held protectively by a Cybertronian is undoubtedly one of the most secure feelings in the world, you believe. Just being held by him in general though is enough to make you realize you're actually quite tired, enough so that you could absolutely fall asleep... Until he detects your slowing heartbeat and encourages you to stay awake.

·The terminal is in sight without a spot of trouble when Ratchet has to gently coax you awake for a second time, using a light nudge of his digit to encourage you to open your eyes once more. Though he knows the hour is late, your sudden sluggishness concerns him as a medic, enough so that he's now more intent than ever on getting some answers. Even without proof and a wealth of far more simple explanations, he's got a feeling something is wrong. A small part of his concentration is divided to keep a constant watch on your vitals.

·You're still alert enough to hear the incoming trouble just as he does; gunfire, shouts and general sounds of skirmish approaching rapidly down the hallway. Hearing him curse this unfortunate luck, you try to ascertain how long the two of you have until company arrives, but the noise is much too chaotic for you to gauge. Knowing Autobots will be amongst the fray is somehow far from comforting. Holding on tight to the hands cradling you so protectively, you look straight up just as the quick thinking doctor looks down at you, absolute trust in your eyes as you meet his optics. Whatever he decides to do next, you trust him with your life.

·The decision he makes isn't a spontaneous one, but it certainly feels like it as he barrels towards the terminals, holding his tiny partner to his chest as he runs. Knowing what's happening may well be the key to undoing any damage before it's too late. He can feel the heat of a few errant shots of blaster fire just as he gets his one spare hand on the keyboard, typing with speed he typically reserves for surgery as the world around him grows gradually more chaotic. Fortunately he only needs to hit a few buttons to bring up all the information he's looking for. Sharp optics start scanning whilst he uses his multitasking skills to keep track of everything else, listening for the threat and holding your little body close while he registers your pulse.

·The world around you feels like it's moving through water that thickens with every passing second, and neither the crackle of energy weapons nor the clanging of blades does anything to reverse the process. Even a shout from an Autobot warning Ratchet to move seems a million miles away. You know he told you to stay awake, but would he really mind if you got a quick nap in? After all, it's so late, and you're so tired, and you feel so safe in his sheltered grip... There isn't even a bit of worry in your mind regarding the fray. How could you be worried, here with the bot who would protect you always?

·Everything makes a terrifying amount of sense far too quickly. Ratchet is accustomed to the rapid responses his occupation requires of him, but for this singular instant he's frozen, optics locking on the atmosphere readout and hoping that he's simply misread it. A glancing but molten blow past his back forces him to accept what won't change, and he manages a combat roll just as the terminal is blasted by errant fire, the battle now within arms length as the same Autobot keeps encouraging him to move. He obliges only after sinking a fist into the face of an alien who wanders too close. After that, he's on the move without reservation, keeping you shielded with his entire frame as he runs.

·Your world spins without end even when the movement of everything beyond stabilizes, and you cling to the bot holding you for something to steady it all. God, what you wouldn't give to lie down and sleep... Ratchet is talking to you though, holding you so that you can see his face as he explains something about oxygen and taking deep breaths while focusing on him. It makes tragically little sense to you. Still, you feel bad as your eyelids grow heavy and your body turns to limp weight in his grip. Even your efforts to breathe as instructed feel like a failure. Of all the beings in the galaxy he's the one you want to dissapoint least, but his warm palms beneath you are so comfortable, and his spark humming in your ear is so soothing... You only hope he can forgive you for submitting to sleep.

·Ratchet knows he's powerless to wake you again, but that hardly keeps the agony from tearing at his spark. Seeing you go limp in his grasp, feeling your pulse weaken and grow irregular, hearing your breath stall... How long has it been since any medical emergency has reduced him to near panic like this? He's so invested in his task that his arrival to the medical bay only comes with orders. You're the human equivalent of a Fader, and so much of what he needs to save you isn't even ready to go! He needs to have a mask, a saline solution for dehydration, and oxygen of the exact content percentage you need to survive just to start... For the first time in eons he's terrified, even as it all comes together and he sees your vitals stabilize before his very optics, as all he can think of is how very close this came to ending tragically. As you're left recovering he quickly gets to work on other patients, throwing himself into the task so as not to worry, though his optics betray him on the regular with glances towards the berth supporting your tiny body.

·Wakefulness comes with a familiar digit resting in your palm, reading your vitals as you put together blurry pieces of a not so happy story. To your delight, a brightly colored chevron is the first thing you see when you open your eyes, and it's impossible not to smile when you roll your head over to look at the owner. Ratchet somehow looks more exhausted than you've ever seen him as he smiles back. He relays everything that happened in a way that paints him as an unimportant figure, up until you move your hand to rest atop his, your eyes filled with that same trust and admiration you'd given before he'd gone for the terminal. You want to communicate that you know how much you owe him. This brave, selfless medic who'd risked so much to give you his best and deserved the full credit for saving your life... Humility doesn't allow him to agree in full, but you're certain you can see peace in his optics, the kind he only seems to feel with you.

[moviegroovies]

brad majors: a character study

ok i think it probably says something when the first time i tried to make this post the power to my entire house went out, wiping my progress and turning off my dvd player, but fuck if i’m gonna let prognostic signs stop me from being on my bullshit. 

the point is: y’all ever devote a few hours worth of time and effort to making something that nobody is ever, ever gonna read? if you do, then we here at moovie groovies dot tumblr dot com feel sorry for you, although naturally we can’t relate. no, you don’t need to check how many notes we get on these stupid posts. don’t worry about that. ANYWAY

sometimes you just wake up and, despite knowing that your classes start up again in less than a week, you just have to spend some of the precious few hours you have left on deconstructing everyone’s favorite asshole’s fragile, fragile psyche. and by you, i mean me. and by sometimes, i mean now. 

let’s go! 

so, i’m gonna start with the scene in front of the church (let’s start at the very beginning, the beginning’s a good place to start...). brad’s introduction is the first time we meet any of the major characters of the film (unless you count patricia quinn’s lips and richard o’brien’s voice as an intro to magenta and riff), and it sort of sets him up as our “protagonist,” a role he... doesn’t quite maintain for the duration of the film. obviously, the second frankie shows up, he’s the main event, babey, but even for our “hero” and “heroine,” brad, who seems to be the main focus for the first act, gets less on-screen development than his female counterpart. plus, janet’s solo song wasn’t cut. sorry brad ): 

regardless, i like the church scene quite a bit in terms of brad's character. the movie isn’t entirely huge on the character development kind of thing, so you have to take it where you can get it, but imo, introducing brad with ralph as a counterpart/sort of foil was a good choice, because it lets us compare our hero with what i’m just going to assume is the standard for the society he’s living in. we jump in: the first conversation we see in the whole movie is between brad and ralph, who we learn is a friend of his from high school. it seems likely that brad and ralph aren’t as close as, perhaps, betty and janet are (this is just my speculation, but if you look at the other wedding guests, there’s at least one other girl who’s wearing the purple dress that janet is in, which could be the bridesmaid’s dress, while i don’t see anyone else wearing brad’s little outfit, making him not one of the groomsmen), but brad initiates the conversation, struck by social norms, if absolutely nothing else, in the need to be polite. their conversation seems awkward (asshole boxing!), but more so for brad than ralph, who just steamrolls on totally oblivious to how fake brad’s laugh is. brad comes off as the more thoughtful, conservative one of the two--he’s kind of cringing under his smile at the conversation, and everything he says is sort of.... stiff. also, did you notice his face when ralph says the only reason he showed up to the science class was because he was trying to get in good with betty? brad, who actually likes science, has sort of a blank/disappointed look while he announces this, which he turns to an awkward “ha ha ha” laugh. when betty throws her bouquet and janet catches it, ralph tells brad it could be his turn next, which he seems to somewhat brush off (”who knows?”), but once ralph leaves, he’s definitely caught up in thought again, perhaps contemplating the timing of his proposal (who the fuck brings a ring to someone else’s wedding??). 

side note about that scene: both betty’s dress and ralph’s suit are white, which, at a wedding, symbolizes virginal purity. even the lewd message on the car (”wait til tonite--she got hers, now he’ll get his”) implies that both betty and ralph have been waiting until their wedding night to, y’know, consummate their relationship, which brad and janet initially parallel, but...

the conversation then switches to brad and janet, and their first interaction together is kind of,,, tense. janet is gushing about the wedding, but once again, matter-of-fact brad majors is kind of awkward, and his comments are all very forced. “everyone knows that betty’s a wonderful little cook.” “ralph himself, he’ll be in line for a promotion in a year or two!” both of these come off as commentary on what he thinks people are supposed to be thinking about--brad, at this point, is a man who has a framework of what life should be (domestic wife, upward movement at a respectable job, white wedding) and who is doing his absolute best to fill his role in all of that. his stoicism even fits that, because, as we’ll see in a moment, he does have real, giddy emotions around janet--he’s just doing his best to keep them down until the very moment of his proposal.

and that brings me to: dammit janet! it’s really very cute, and kind of the closest thing to a brad-centric song we get if you’re watching a version that doesn’t have once in a while which.... you probably are. brad gets flustered while he just tries to start the proposal, and compare his wide, shameless smiles at janet throughout this song with the way he kind of grimace smiles at ralph beforehand. he’s in love! and you know he’s in love, because he says it outright six times over the course of the song, while janet only explicitly says it once. maybe he just got luckier with the rhymes (dammit janet, i love you is the same syllables as brad, i’m mad, for you too), but tbh i think it’s sort of telling--brad’s playing the emotionally stunted prototype of the american man, but deep down he’s deeply in love and thinks his girlfriend is the most special person in the world. meanwhile, janet clearly cares for brad, but i think what she’s really in love with is the idea of marriage (she’s so enamored with betty monroe’s transition to mrs. ralph haphshatt, and in the scene beforehand she’s definitely anticipating brad’s proposal and waiting expectantly for it)--but this is a brad character analysis, so i’m going to try to stick to his side of things. he beams at her while he fumbles through the first bit (“hey, janet, i’ve got something to say”), and has to lean back on a tombstone once he gets through it. i love him! i love how he drops his composure and starts jumping and running around (backward!). also, peep that bit where janet leans in for a kiss and he pulls away at the last minute... telling? maybe not, he does kiss her in a moment. 

the most excited janet seems throughout the duration of the song is when he pulls out the ring. in his excitement, brad fumbles trying to put it on her, and falls over while spelling her name and telling her how much he loves her--meanwhile, she leaves him on the church steps while she goes inside to admire it. all of brad’s lyrics in the song have been about their courtship and how much he loves her, while hers are about how her ring is better than the one her friend got, and how it’s good that he’s already done the proper thing and met her parents. this isn’t janet hate, really, but i think the comparison is interesting--brad was introduced with somewhat awkwardly stunted emotions, but he’s the more open, idealistic one of them when it comes to romantic feelings. janet, meanwhile, knows exactly what she wants--but maybe it doesn’t matter so much who gives it to her, as long as she ends up in that dress she’s built up so well in her head. basically: he wants to plan their future, she wants to plan their wedding. 

that theme is showcased pretty well in this exchange toward the end of the song: janet leads with her “brad, i’m mad,” bit, which he eagerly answers with “i love you too,” though janet has yet to say that she loves him. also, i wish i had screenshots, but if you watch that scene, he’s looking adoringly at her, while she’s looking adoringly at the ring. the song is about different things for the two of them.

it’s pretty cute to me that brad’s immediate first thought upon getting engaged is not that they need to announce it to their family, or their friends (like betty and ralph) of similar age, but their tutor. also, look at them when he says this--i think that maybe the two of them were on different pages when saying “there’s one thing left to do.” janet probably did want to tell family and friends, because she’s finally getting her dream, she’s getting married, she has a beautiful ring, and she wants to tell people! brad wants to tell one person, because he thinks his whole relationship is owed to his teacher, whom he admired, and he wants to share his happiness with dr. scott. we learn later that the two of them had been working together on scientific pursuits even after dr. scott was his teacher in high school, which i like for brad. i love his devotion to science! i don’t love his devotion to dr. scott, because he’s the real villain of the movie, but brad doesn’t know that. i don’t blame him.

anyhow.

i bring all that up because janet looks a little disappointed when he starts talking about dr. scott, doesn’t she? maybe i’m totally reading too much into it for the sake of my theory, but she looks sort of blank until “made me give you the eye and then panic,” where she dutifully giggles and looks down at the ground. 

they do kiss at the end of the song, but it’s close mouthed and brief, and the screen cuts away to riff raff, magenta, and columbia (or their actors playing bit parts, at the very least) for most of it. this is probably more about the stand up american kid’s sexual repression than lack of attraction, if we’re being honest. i’m not saying at any part of this that brad wasn’t in love with janet. the two of them, at that point in the movie, are very dutifully filling roles they think they should be filling, and that means they’re being the perfect distant WASP couple. no impure thoughts until the wedding night. and so forth.

next up: the police statements. i actually hadn’t read them until just now, which marks the two hour mark of me writing this analysis... and i’m about 15 minutes into the movie. funny how that happens, right? don’t worry, i’ll have less to go on soon so i can shut up. until then, though: brad’s police statement is a fun ride because the whole thing is written like his first stilted conversation with ralph. also, it reveals his name is bradley j majors. what’s the j for? that’s for you to decide. he introduces himself and mentions that janet is still his fiancee (which is backed by janet’s police statement), and explains that everything started at ralph and betty’s wedding. he goes into some backstory with dr. scott’s class, and gives this line in relation to his first thought about janet: “she’s just the little help and support I’m going to need throughout my life.” god, brad, that was straight of you. it’s perfectly in character (fitting his comment re: betty that she’s a “wonderful little cook;” he’s thinking about women in a supportive, domestic role, and not so much as people, although his actions when janet are actually around make him a little less of an asshole about it), but it makes me want to slap him a little. at the same time, in the context of him having a perfected ideal in his head and trying to stick through it, that’s just about love at first sight for him. i think it might just be that janet is in love with the idea of marriage, and brad is in love with the idea of janet. he thinks he’s found the perfect woman to round out his fantasy american home life. she’ll give him support, and cook his meals, and pop out their 2.5 kids. meanwhile she’ll get to have her wedding and be a nice little homemaker, and if that’s not exactly what she wants, well, it’s what she seems to think she wants now. 

both brad and janet’s police statements are funny because you can see them projecting their thoughts and actions on each other while changing the occurrences of the story. i’ll scatter references to the stuff that happens after along with my commentary on the stuff themselves, but brad says that janet “got sort of excited and kind of did a bit of a hop and a skip – she gets a bit carried away when she’s excited – and skipped into the church.” yeah, brad. janet was the one who was carried away. he mentions that he should have noticed that there was a funeral going on while they were in the church (janet doesn’t comment on that), and that he would have noticed, had he “been so confused by her saying yes.” brad. darling. she was saying yes in her eyes before you even pulled out the ring. in her police statement, she says she “thought he’d never get around to it,” but that she “couldn’t hint to him. but anyway he did it.” janet’s been trying to get him to propose probably since they graduated high school. brad says that “ralph and betty got engaged and then married before [he] had the nerve to ask Janet if she would kinda get married to [him]. You know what it’s like ? You don’t like to take these things on until you’re sure.”

side note: i like his little “kinda get married.” he does that a lot in this--kinda, sort of. i think it’s his way of downplaying his emotions and what he wants. it’s sad, but it shows a lot about him, i think.

his full explanation for not noticing the funeral until he thinks back on it later is that he and janet “kissed, and [he] felt so hot and cold that [he] just didn’t notice.” once again, i say brad. DARLING. i love you. you are so so emotionally stunted.

their next scene is the car, driving to dr. scott’s house. i know i take the opportunity to wax poetic about my great love for brad majors just about every other line, but i LOVE how he’s got nixon’s resignation speech taped and playing on the way there. it’s such a funny little detail, and also it begs some questions in my mind--does he like listening to it out of some kind of respect for nixon? (i ask this mostly because the way nixon presents the speech is reminiscent of brad’s early dialogue/his police report) or does he just like hearing the bastard step down? (more likely, since brad would probably find unamerican actions quite heinous, and regard the whole watergate scandal as entirely treasonous) either way, it shows a trait i just want to call attention to: brad is a NERDDDD. i love him.

janet seems much more casual and chatty in this scene than he does. brad’s a man on a mission, or maybe his persona just doesn’t allow room for unnecessary chatter. either way, it makes for an awkwardly quiet car ride. janet tries to break the silence, first by offering him chocolate (this is also part of her seeming younger than him, though if they were in the same high school class i suppose they really can’t be), then by commenting on the motorcyclists. brad takes this opportunity to show his disdain for their “type,” probably meaning rebels, junkies, and general counterculturalists. oh, brad. you have no idea what you’re in for here, do you?

not that relevant, but i find it funny that while janet recalls that brad told her to wait in the car (which she uses to bring up the fact that she “wasn’t going to risk losing him if there was a sophisticated, seductive woman in the castle,” a comment which i find more indicative of her devotion to her wedding than her devotion to brad), brad describes leaving together as a joint decision. maybe it’s just not that important to him, maybe his ego smarts a little from her brushing off his attempt at protecting her, maybe he just wants to portray all their decisions as a joint effort. man and wife. awwww.

his actions in this scene are mostly focused on his protective element. he does the “mom hand” across janet when they first get the blowout, and then tries to convince her to stay while he wanders off into the darkness alone (which, let’s be real brad, would have resulted in a man door hand hook car door kind of thing, wouldn’t it have?). basically this scene is full proof that brad majors would 100% be “white dad in a horror movie” material if he wasn’t changed by the experience, which he seems not to have been, if the police statement is anything to go off. so, they both get out of the car. part of me likes to think about what it would be like if brad really had gone in alone, but at the same time, the au necessitates that janet be alone in that car all. fucking. night. so.

i don’t have any commentary on him in “over at the frankenstein place,” particularly, except that he’s a dork who doesn’t take off his glasses in the rain. seriously, brad, you have to be completely blind at this point. what the hell are you doing.

unrelated side note: amanda seyfreid should have played janet in the 2016 remake, i always think that susan looks a little bit like her in this scene. plus i just... didn’t like victoria justice in the role. whatever.

brad kind of ignores janet’s worry and fear from that point on for a while. on one hand, asshole! but on the other hand, like, why go all the way to the castle just to turn back at the door? maybe because castles don’t have phones, but he doesn’t know that yet. 

brad falls in to introducing janet as “my fiancee janet weiss” very quickly. in my heart, i’m going to say that this is because he’s been doing it for a while in his head. brad and janet seem a little uncomfortable with riff raff, but brad reassures janet it’s just a weird hunting lodge, and they go inside, still holding out hope that they might use a phone here before the night is over. oh, brad’n’janet. if only you knew. magenta (who both brad and janet call “madge” in their police reports) slides down the banister, and they get a little startled. both of them find this important enough to note in their police statements, with brad commenting that her maid’s outfit “somehow didn’t look right;” in fact, he felt “a bit embarrassed by it actually.” i think this is another instance of him downplaying every emotion/feeling he reports on. janet, meanwhile, just comments that her dress had lost some buttons, which i feel goes along with a common theme in her report--brad’s sexually frustrated, janet judges other women. it goes along with pitting herself against betty (”it’s nicer than betty monroe had!”); janet comments that the wedding was perfect, except betty’s train should have been longer. just little details like that. 

next: the time warp! janet Does Not Like the time warp. she faints twice, and another time right before sweet transvestite. brad is initially as startled and disturbed (?) as she is, but by the time columbia’s verse is over, he’s smiling and he seems sort of into it--bobbing his head and so forth. janet’s the one who tugs on his shirt and tries to lead him out. interestingly, in her police statement, she switches the blame for their inching out of the room and puts it on brad--“i would have quite liked to see the dance right through but brad insisted we leave and he’s so strong and brave.” brad, again, presents this as a joint decision he and janet had: “janet and i backed out of the room.” at this point, i really am just thinking that he wants to believe that he and janet are unified in their decisions, maybe as a kind of mental block to the shit they’ve been through. it’s cute. he still loves her quite a bit. 

oh, before i go on. i want to pull your attention to this bit from the police statement: “now, this bit is going to be a bit hard to believe but you’ve gotta believe i’m telling the truth. I mean I had a very upright honest christian upbringing and I don’t lie about anything. no sir. i never lied to my mother about whether I’d cleaned behind my ears or not.” 

i don’t like, have anything in particular to say about it. i just love him.

so, the time warp ends. janet urges brad to say something; apparently, him asking the transylvannians if they know how to madison isn’t the something she wanted him to say. that’s one of my favorite brad lines, honestly. it also proves that brad’s a lot more comfortable here than janet is--for now, at least. he defends the strangers’ rights to act strange by suggesting that they’re foreigners with different ways from their own, and seems to be a bit irritated by the fact that janet’s reacting so harshly (”get a grip on yourself, janet!”). his thought process at this point is probably that she’s behaving like a hysterical woman, while he’s a paragon of rationality. funny how those roles kind of switch by the end, no? right now, though, it’s still brad’s turn with the calm juice, so janet faints again when the elevator comes down--brad, to her right, says in his police report that he “was about to get angry with her” for screaming. harsh much, brad? 

these next parts are going to be hard to analyze because watching brad when frank is on the screen is... hard. i’m a man of simple tastes; i see tim curry in drag, and i watch him. ah, the things i’ll do for a completely pointless character study. 

anyway, frank’s first appearance has brad kind of stammering. frankie is going through the “how do you do’s,” and brad is just standing there, working his jaw. he didn’t catch janet that time. interestingly, though janet noticed from the start that frank was a man “who looked like a woman,” brad apparently didn’t catch that until he saw the corset--up until that point in his report, he refers to frankie as a woman, saying that janet fainted, and he “decided that there was nothing to faint about – there was just this woman getting out of the lift.” he goes on to say “yes, she was about 6’1”” which, baby, i don’t know who you’re kidding but tim curry is 5′9″ and that’s generous. i guess he was factoring in the heels, but he mentions the heels in the next line: “but wearing very high heels, a lot of makeup and a shiny black cloak with a silver collar. She motioned us back in to the ballroom and I thought we could follow her.” at this point in janet’s statement, she notes that “brad says that [she] went of [her] own volition, but he was really pushing [her]” to follow dr. furter. huh, brad, i wonder why you were so intent on following...? he goes on to say that “when we got there she started talking about being a transvestite. now, I don’t keep up with the modern trends that happen in new york and all those big cities and i wasn’t quite sure what a transvestite was.” brad... never change. didn’t frank only start talking about being a transvestite once the cloak was off? maybe this is one of those things where not all the song sequences happen in universe. whatever. anyway, he notes that frank is a man, and finishes with “yes, i did get further confirmation of this fact later and i’d rather not go into it, if you don’t mind,” which is the only allusion he makes to sleeping with frank.

brad is pretty stiff/shocked for most of the song, but by the time he remembers himself and recovers enough to ask for a telephone (brad, babydoll, you are never going to get a telephone here), he gives an awkward little nod/smile at the “well, babies, don’t you panic.” then it’s back to freaky & awk. he’s self consciously feeling his hair at the insinuation that he might not be shivering because of the rain. still, when he’s getting stripped down by magenta, he’s pretty cool again, introducing himself (asshole!) and janet (slut!) even while she’s pulling his shirt over his head. to columbia, he’s a little rude: she tells them they’re very lucky to be invited up to the lab, and that some people would give their right arm for the privilege. snidely, brad asks “people like you, maybe?,” which i think goes back to his “life’s pretty cheap for that type” comment from the car. he’s very us (clean, straight american kids) versus them (motorcycle junkie amoral delinquents) here. still, though, he’s not protesting too violently when they get put in the elevator. in the statement, he seems to be asked about whether or not frank’s castle was a gambling den because of his “we’ll pull out the aces” comment, to which he replies that it wasn’t, and furthermore, that gambling is evil--his mother told him. that makes a lot of sense--he seems quite a bit like someone who never questioned the morals his parents instilled in him. this is probably the first experience in his entire life that ever gave him reason to question them, and he still comes away swearing he tells the whole truth, and that gambling is evil, and so forth. even if he’s been shaken... he hasn’t been shaken that much.

when they get up to the lab, brad (who is, by the way, wearing the world’s ugliest underwear) does a little “ladies first” gesture and lets janet out in front of him. and they say chivalry is dead. he still gets out before columbia and magenta, however. 

brad gets to do his “i’m brad majors (asshole!), and this is my fiance janet weiss (slut!)” bit that i’m sure he’s been rehearsing in his head since tenth grade for a third time, but fucks it up this time with “vice,” which shows you exactly where his mind is. it’s interesting that this is where he fucks it up, and not when he was introducing them to columbia in the last scene--columbia being a scantily clad young woman watching while he was being stripped naked, while frank in this scene is still crossdressing, yeah, but is much more moderately dressed since he put on the gown thing. funny, no, which one elicits his freudian slip? i don’t think brad is completely gay, since i’ve already gone into how strongly he feels for janet, but i think a lot of his attraction to women is based around his idea of what he’s supposed to do, while when he’s not keeping a close grip on his feelings, he lets attraction to men just sort of... slip out. he’s back to being his dominating american man persona in this scene tho (it’s a bird, it’s a plane... it’s super asshole!), and seems awfully jealous when frank flirts with janet, probably because janet does very little to seem unreceptive. he also gets pissed as fuck when frank mentions how hospitable and generous he’s being by letting brad’n’janet stay here, which... there’s still no phones in the castle, asshole. he’s more reserved and a little bit self-conscious both when frank compliments their underclothes (don’t listen to him for a moment, brad, you area still wearing the world’s FUGLIEST underwear) and when his outraged “hospitality!” speech is met with frank telling him how forceful he is (which the conventionalists find ENTIRELY amusing). i guess it’s understandable--this is almost definitely the first time in his life he’s been hit on, by a man or otherwise really, and he’s repressed enough that he kind of shuts down. you can’t just be openly sexual in brad’s mind. that’s not how it works. the question about the tattoo brings him back to himself, though, which again shows his distaste for counterculture. tattoos are things that type has. not him. 

janet giggles when frank asks her, and he stares at her in disbelief for a while. when janet claps along with the transylvannians for frank’s experiment, he just stands and watches before holding her so she can’t do it anymore--but when janet starts getting scared of the lights and the noises, he’s back in his a-game, reassuring her there’s nothing to be scared of. he really does like being the one with power--he thinks he has it when he’s yelling about hospitality, frank brings him back to earth by looking at him, for lack of a more tasteful phrase, like a piece of meat. while he’s reassuring janet, and she’s thinking of how strong and protective he is (a comment that she makes many times in her police statement, and which frank is perceptive enough to have picked up to use in the seduction scene), he’s okay again, and he starts looking in shock at the machines frank is using. that’s another thing about brad--he can get used to these situations pretty easily, and he’s still easily distracted by his interest in science. it’s just frank himself and janet’s flirtations with frank that are throwing him off his groove. 

side note. in the police statement, brad implies that he thinks rocky was just “having a snooze” in the tank, though whether he says this because that’s actually his impression or because he legitimately does believe that the story he’s telling is too fantastic to be true is kind of unclear. if he did believe that frank was able to create life, i think his dislike at this stage would be pretty easily overcome by his dorky science questions--but maybe that’s just me. 

brad totally checks out rocky. he puts on his glasses and does this whole once over--subtle. in the police statement, he comments that “frank got very concerned about his being frightened and kept telling him he was beautiful. he wasn’t a bad looking guy – but i wouldn’t have called him beautiful.” suuuuure. maybe rocky’s just not brad’s type, though; he does go on and on about eddie.

when frank asks what brad and janet think of his creation, brad smiles briefly at janet for her (flat out lie that) she doesn’t like men with too many muscles; before frank even reacts, though, his face falls when the spectators laugh, and he seems a little embarrassed. i would have liked to see his answer--although, like i said in the last paragraph, it may simply be that rocky (whom he calls “rock,” citing rock hudson, who, side note, was gay, altho i have no idea whether or not they knew that in the 70′s) is not quite his taste. we don’t see brad’n’janet for all of i can make you a man, but we do see them again in hot patootie--eddie seems to flirt with rocky and janet and maybe even brad, a bit (if he was one of frank’s conquests, eddie must be bi too, right?). brad’s face seems mostly just flat out baffled for the duration of the song, but all his comments in the police statement seem pretty positive--“this guy who burst out on the harley sang his song. i held his sax for a while he was singing. good voice”--which is somewhat strange, given that eddie embodies all the stereotypes of the “other” that brad has been shitting on since the beginning--he has a motorcycle, he’s got tattoos, he’s part of frank’s little circle, and he pretty much humps columbia right there on the floor. brad doesn’t seem actually distraught by the murder, though, saying not much beyond “god rest his soul” like a good little christian boy would. he does note that he would have thought that eddie “could have made a lot of money as a singer,” which is again, cute, because he really doesn’t seem to believe all those stereotypes as much as he seemed to think he did. 

side note, if he was attracted to eddie, and we know he’s at least somewhat attracted to frank, doesn’t that mean brad has the exact same taste in men as columbia? which could be related to him thinking that rocky wasn’t anything to write home about--neither of them seem to be that interested in muscle.

brad’s not even slightly subtle about checking out frank when magenta and riff raff take the gown off him. he looks away, as if that helps anything about it. he also looks absolutely betrayed by janet’s announcement that she’s a muscle fan. dammit, janet.

he takes the time to mention frank and rocky’s “wedding,” which he makes sure to detach from the other one we see in the movie by assuring the police that it was nothing like ralph and betty’s, although he praises them on about the same level: about the haphshatt’s wedding, he says “very nice wedding it was,” while in regard to frank’s, he says “it was quite nice, i suppose.” i appreciate that he never really expresses disgust for any part of the night except for the cannibalism--he never demonizes frank as a q***r or anything like that. in regard to what happened after the wedding, he either is ignorant (unlikely) or feigns it--he says that he “didn’t think it was [his] business,” which i feel like is the polite streak that was pounded mercilessly into his head jumping out. 

off topic, but he wasn’t completely accurate in saying the wedding was nothing like ralph’s--at the end, the transylvannians throw flower petals and chant “rocky, rocky, rah rah rah!,” which parallels the wedding guests cheering “haphshatt haphshatt, rah rah rah!” at the end of ralph and betty’s wedding. is that a custom i didn’t know about, or was it a nod to the fact that the guests were supposed to be played by the transylvannians?

next: sex! i probably don’t have to say anything for y’all to know that this is one of my favorite scenes--i’m predictable like that. the seduction of brad and janet go pretty similarly, with mostly the same lines--frank changes “i think you’ll find it quite pleasurable” to “i think you’ll really quite enjoy it” for some flair, and brad gets angry (nevernever. never!) while janet gets weepy. janet protests that she was saving herself (for marriage, which she’s built up in her head), while brad gets pissed because he thought it was the real thing--it’s notable, though, that while janet was already getting hot and heavy when she thought it was brad, brad doesn’t get into anything sexual until after he knows it’s frank; he was only holding “janet” and petting her hair. frank gets smart after janet makes him promise not to tell brad and leads with the fact that he won’t tell janet, and after making sure that frank promises he won’t tell, brad’s out there arching his back and moaning. can’t say i blame him--i wouldn’t have even said no in the first place. in the statements, brad seems to have either blocked out the entire memory (which i doubt) or just refuses to say it, much like he did with what frank and rocky did in their room; first of all, he leads with “well, janet and i went off down all these corridors and things and were shown to our bedroom. one each. even if we hadn’t been given a room each, i would have insisted on it. you’ve got to do the right thing.” yeah, sure, brad--that’s why you let janet in so quickly, huh? anyway, he continues with “a few things went on during the night. no, i’d rather not talk about it. no, i can’t remember. yes, i think someone did come into my room. no, i’ve got no idea who it was. i was asleep at the time.” what was it that brad said earlier about always telling the complete truth? not that i really blame him--look man, it was the 70′s, and even if he didn’t have a 100% upstanding citizen’s image to maintain, casually announcing that you’re a fag probably doesn’t have amazing consequences for anyone involved. janet, in her report, is free with the fact that she knew it was frank, though she still doesn’t acknowledge that she had sex: “i thought it was brad at first, but then it was frank so that was o.k. i mean i would have been shocked if it had been brad. he’s always been so respectful towards me.”

basically, “i would have been shocked if brad touched me like that. he’s way too repressed to go beyond closed mouth kissing.” 

but i digress. 

we see brad again on the television monitor, smoking a “we just had sex” cigarette and looking back at frank casually. they seem to be talking, and frank seems super pleased with what he’s done. i suppose he would, he’s just gotten off two (three?) times in the last hour or so. like, fuck, that’s pretty impressive. especially if you have a dick. brad seems a lot more chill with what they did than janet does--janet’s crying and guilty at first, then crying and betrayed, which is... strange. janet, did you somehow forget that you fucked the exact same man in the past twenty seconds? maybe she just wanted to believe that his will was stronger than hers, or that he was straight. how would she have reacted if it was, say, columbia in that bed? i guess we’ll never know. 

maybe she’s just thinking about her ruined marriage, if we’re being honest.

anyway, brad, unlike janet, seems content to follow frank after they make it, and doesn’t really seem unsettled by what they did. he does seem unsettled by watching frank whip riff raff, but once that’s over and the three of them are looking at dr. scott on the television monitor, he’s gotten over that, too, and he’s happy to announce (with no mind for reading the room) that he knows scott--that’s an old friend of his! frank gets apprehensive and angry, concluding rationally that dr. scott (who he knows as a UFO investigator, and who would naturally prove dangerous to his continued stay on earth) sent brad and janet to his castle to spy on him. brad tries to reassure frank that he’s there because his car broke down--and here, he’s still smiling a little, until he drops to a serious “i was telling the truth.” maybe he should tell frank that thing about washing behind his ears? frank doesn’t believe him, and starts jabbing him backward (but not hitting him) with the handle of the whip. brad gets increasingly angry at this disrespect, and seems (like he did in the lab earlier) about to snap out, until he trips backward, and frank raises the whip, at which point his weird relation with power dynamics saves his ass. he almost forgot, before, where he stood, but now he’s looking up at a man with a whip who’s clearly not afraid to use it, and so he chills out quite a bit. frank asks him to confirm that dr. scott works for the US government in the investigation of UFOs, and brad shoots back that he might, which angers frank, until brad drops his own anger and submits in a more placating “i don’t know!” frank chills out, and then summons dr. scott up to the lab.

despite being threatened with a very real whipping, brad seems no less excited to see dr. scott than he initially was. he really is quite devoted to his mentor, and has no shame when offering his hand to shake--like, how does he not realize his robe has blown open and dr. scott can definitely see his dick through his ugly tightie whities? no idea. but damn if he’s not happy. frank makes a comment about how adaptable he is, and only then is brad embarrassed enough to look away. scott saves brad’s ass a little by assuring frank he had no idea that brad was going to be here, to which frank seems a little surprised, but probably pleasantly. it’s better to know that the dude you just fucked wasn’t secretly a spy conspiring to out you to the planet earth, right? 

brad seems hurt and confused in the rocky horror role call bit by janet’s betrayal--which is a little fair. after all, brad only fucked one guy, but janet’s been caught in bed with at least two. still, infidelity is infidelity, and neither of them has much room to judge at this point. brad probably gets this, because, while he still seems a little miffed when they sit down to dinner, he’s not trying to confront her about it or anything. in fact, he doesn’t try to do any confrontation at all until frank-n-furter implies that dr. scott is a nazi (which. doesn’t really work if he’s been doing the german accent the whole time, but whatever), and brad, who doesn’t know that it’s true, gets righteously angry on his behalf. poor baby. might want to get a better fcking mentor.

he still seems a little upset when dr. scott starts singing “eddie,” but makes his peace, i suppose, enough to get into the song by the end, where he sings with what i’m just gonna assume is righteous anger at how bad eddie was. i think at this point he’s more or less loyal to frank, at least in the eddie department. less so when frank slaps janet a second later; then he’s back in the “righteous anger” department. he takes off his glasses and then is apparently so blind he can’t see which way they went. that’s not how glasses work, brad. 

he’s pretty impressed with the science in the latter half of “planet schmanet janet.” like yeah, they’re glued to the spot, but he doesn’t seem as upset about that as janet does, and knows exactly what dr. scott’s impression of the transducer means. once again, i just want to emphasize how much i’d like a fic of frank and brad talking about science and machines and stuff. brad’s a scientifically minded guy! he’d be fucking fascinated with all this shit if he had time in between his bouts of righteous anger to be! 

despite being trapped, brad tries to get a hit in while frank sings the sexiest line of the movie. respect, i guess. and another after janet beats him for a little! 

there’s protective!brad again. he’s trembling with anger while he threatens frank... completely ineffectually. you’re trapped, dumbass.

ah, well.

then, the floor show! the floor show gives us kind of a jump in brad’s character. according to his statement, he wasn’t conscious for the part where he sings on stage--he says he doesn’t really remember anything between the dinner (which he refuses to answer questions on: “oh yes, we did have dinner at some point. no i feel ill when i think about it. i didn’t eat anything. at least not very much. i’ll be sick if you keep asking me about it”) and waking up in the pool. the little segment in the show itself tells a lot about him though: here, though brad seemed pretty cool & collected up until this point, we learn that he’s massively uncomfortable with the role he’s found himself in--the sex, the company, and probably above all else, the corset and the fish nets. he calls on his mother to save him, which supports that bit in his report when he says that his mother told him that gambling is evil--he’s kind of a momma’s boy, and he’s reverting back to that while finding himself in a situation he can’t control. at the same time, though, he doesn’t totally seem to hate it--he does admit to feeling sexy dressed like that, and once he gets in the pool, everything gets blissed out. even in his statement, he doesn’t try to hide that part of his evening--“yes, i did have a nice swim. it was warm – it was beautiful really.” that’s probably the most glowing review he gives of anything that happened that night, and his actions in the pool consisted of... licking frank’s chest, rubbing his head on rocky’s dick, and getting dipped by columbia. yeah, i think beautiful pretty much sums it up, actually. he returns to his “it’s beyond me” chorus for a moment in the pool, but columbia puts an end to that. 

oh, i love his pose while frank is singing, too. i know i’ve used the word repressed like fifty times in this review, but... 

all i can say about the rest of the song is that i’m really feeling his legs in the chorus line. he’s got more devotion to the dance than rocky does, at least. 

then there’s protective brad again; he pulls janet away from frank when riff raff and magenta start threatening him (and gets a heel to his foot for his trouble). during “i’m going home,” he looks appropriately sad at frank’s departure. maybe even more than appropriately, since this isn’t exactly his closest friend in the world, is it? still, we also get protective!brad protecting someone other than janet for the one and only time when riff raff announces frank’s death and brad yells out “you’re going to kill him? what’s his crime!” there’s that righteous anger again... and like, even though this is a man that brad has seen murder one man, brutally whip another, and who has threatened him and his beloved mentor and harassed his fiance... brad really can’t fathom why they would kill him! it might be a side effect of the mind control ray frank was using, but dr. scott was under the same stuff, ostensibly, and didn’t find a single problem saying that they had to kill frank for society’s protection. 

i love that short little scene with brad burying his head in janet’s hair while he holds her. i think he’s a little disillusioned with his mentor by the end, or at least i would hope so. poor frank ):

brad’s part in superheroes is mostly just about him being sexy for me. like. the words he’s saying mostly just tell me that he’s freaking out because of what happened. but the way he’s sitting and writhing around in the smoke.... undeniably hot.

anyway, holy shit, i’ve been working on this for like seven hours now. tl; dr: brad majors loves janet weiss a lot, or at least the idea of her, but is completely sexually repressed and can’t deal with it when he has his gay awakening and then subsequently tries drag for the first time before watching the dude who fucked him dying. i probably should have gotten more out of that, and maybe i did, but that’s in the past now. FUCK i wrote too much. ok.

[alarickane]

Life is not a love song, we can try

The holidays were supposed to be a time for family and yet Alaric had been avoiding his family even before the holiday season fully settled in, happy parents holding hands and window shopping for their children while Alaric dodged all inquiries and invitations that he could from his own parents.

They'd wanted to know who he was going to the Yule Ball with and he'd prevaricated, insisting he wasn't sure if he'd be going and questioning if a date would be appropriate considering Gisela's death. Basically, he'd lied through his teeth while smiling at his mother because he knew that if he told the woman that he had a date with a muggleborn girl, a girl he was in a relationship with, that it wouldn't go over well. He remembered the way they reacted to Dirk, after all, and he didn't want the list of politely suggested pureblood women to turn into something else like a short list of future brides.

When Christmas grew closer, there were owls. A lot of them. Eloquent missives from his mother asking about his plans and if he'd be joining them, how work was going, and wanting to know how much time he'd have away. Really, his mum nearly wrote his excuse for him that time, making it easy for Alaric to claim that work was busy, there was a large order that had been destroyed and needed to be dealt with, that he wouldn't be able to make it home and sent both his parents his best like it would really have been difficult to step through the floo for an evening to see them.

That was just another thing that was politely ignored.

Of course, Alaric's parents weren't fools and there was only so long he could avoid them... which was better than Ari, at least, because Alaric had never managed to avoid them. He usually didn't want to, but it seemed that the older they became, the fewer opinions they held that remained the same.

You need to come home

it was his father's bold script and short, no nonsense manner, the one that said there were certain things that Avery men did and certain things they did not. Alaric knew that tone and knew he was going home.

December 28th, 2pm.

The letter arrived the day after Christmas and that didn't seem like enough time to prepare for facing his parents, but it was enough time for him to begin to panic about what they could know. It could be something innocent, it could have been about Ari's time being questioned by the Ministry, it could be that something had happened to his aunt in Azkaban, it didn't necessarily have anything to do with the fact he kissed a girl in Hogsmeade after Halloween, that he let her stay with him after her roommate disappeared and that she was his date to the Yule ball.

Maybe it didn't have anything with the fact he loved her.

Getting ready to go back to his childhood home and see his parents felt akin to slipping on an old skin, dressing himself in layers of propriety and perhaps shame that he'd slowly been discarding since... well, since the first time he'd met Pandora, hadn't it been?

Although he couldn't give Pandora all the credit, talking to Dirk had helped him as well and that was another thing his parents likely wouldn't take well to. They'd warned him about Dirk's influence last time and told him what they thought about his 'proclivities', after all, hadn't they?

"Alaric."

It was his mother that greeted him first after one of the house elves showed him into the study, one of the poor thing's ears looking blackened, charred as if by the fire in the grate and Alaric wondered almost absently what the creature had done to provoke enough ire for that. Maybe the silver hadn't been polished properly.

They approached each other just enough that they could take hold of each other's elbows, exchanging air kisses as the smell of her perfume made him think of dying flowers left over from a funeral decaying upon a gravestone. Her dress was dark, a burgundy reminiscent of wine and she was clearly in good health, so he hadn't been called because anything was wrong with her, and the fact neither of his parents were in black led him to believe his aunt hadn't been given the kiss, either. Not that she would have been dead, just soulless, which really had already been a subject for debate.

"Hello, mum," He said in response before turning to his father. Nothing but a handshake there, but that's how things had been for years. Since leaving for Hogwarts, probably, so it didn't really matter and it wasn't unexpected, but it did help remind him of how casually affectionate he'd become with people lately. He'd hugged Delilah that last time he'd seen her and could probably get away with hugging Gil, too.

Actually, it was Gil, so cheek kisses might be acceptable, too.

"What was so urgent?" He said it with a mild tone of concern and a look of puzzlement, but if he was concerned about anything, it wasn't for how his parents were doing. He wanted to think they'd summoned him there because of Ari, but Alaric couldn't really bring himself to believe that. The idea of Ari needing someone else to help look out for them seemed too far fetched and if they needed a lawyer or an alibi, his parents wouldn't be going to him.

"Son, sit down." His father said as he sat down and steepled his fingers, and oh, that wasn't good. That serious 'you're in trouble' stuff and Alaric's jaw tensed as he bit back the instinctual 'yes, sir' and sat down.

"We know you've lied to us." The man started, his tone dripping in disapproval.

Well, bless his father for never beating around the bush.

"You've been seen repeatedly with a blonde woman that we've been told works for the Quibbler." The man's lip curled as if the word itself was distasteful and Alaric was aware of the reputation the Quibbler had, but that didn't mean Pandora wasn't good at what she did. "And who is muggleborn."

And there it was, the real issue they had. It wasn't about her job or her name or where she was from, but her blood. It always seemed to come back down to blood in families like his and as Alaric remembered the worry that had choked him when he first told Pandora about his family, he felt a sort of distant anger prickle at his skin. "I'm sure I've been around several women that are blonde. As for muggleborn, it's not a habit of mine to check their blood status." He responded as neutrally as he could, mentally recalling every blonde that he'd spoken to recently before adding on as an afterthought, "I don't check their occupation, either."

How the hell did they know Pandora was a muggleborn, anyway? Some blasted Ministry contact, most likely. But not Ari. He hoped not Ari.

"Lies, Alaric. You took this woman to the ball."

"Mother wanted me to attend," Alaric countered, stubbornly defiant in a way his parents likely thought he'd grown out of it. It was almost nice in a way to prove them wrong, even as his stomach churned anxiously, their disappointment running over him like an oil slick.

"You're not going to use her name?" He asked, letting out a disbelieving huff before shaking his head, hair falling in his eyes. "You seem to know everything else about this woman, don't you know that?"

His father's lips thinned, anger flashing in his eyes, but it was his mother that spoke next. "And what are your intentions towards Miss Kane?"

Oddly enough, it was his mother's ire that he feared more than his father's, her cold precision and cool manners more intimidating and Alaric swallowed back the first thought to come into his head. To court her. It was the truth, he wanted to make sure that Pandora felt special and important and not like entertainment on the side that didn't measure up to other options his family would approve of. To love her. Well, he'd found himself doing that without much thought on his part, hadn't he? Besides, it wasn't like love was something that mattered to his parents. He'd loved Dirk and they rewarded him for that by arranging his marriage to Gisela.

Lowering his head, Alaric noticed a scuff mark on one of his boots and knew what his parents wanted to hear. Nothing, he didn't have any intentions towards Pandora, just like they didn't have any regard or respect for her at all. They accused him of lying to them before, but that felt like the ultimate lie and Alaric couldn't bring himself to say it, didn't want to. He didn't want to disrespect Pandora or his feelings for her lie that and besides, he's promised her better.

The fall out from Dirk had taught him better.

"I'm... not really sure," Alaric finally said slowly, lifting his eyes and wondering where Ari was, why they weren't present. It was probably a good thing they weren't, but he thought of them anyway, of the way they'd always fearlessly announced their decisions and who they were. Their parents may not have always understood or initially approved of Ari, but it always seemed like they were proud of them in the end. They certainly weren't going to approve of what Alaric was doing and they weren't going to be proud, but that was fine. They weren't the ones that Alaric wanted to be proud of him anymore.

Instead, Pandora was, and Dirk, too. And maybe even Gil, who'd grinned at him so brilliantly at the ball while showing off his engagement ring and mentioning Pandora. He couldn't let them down.

"But I know this much. I know she matters to me and that I don't care where she works or what her blood status is."

His mother's laugh was harsh as she leaned back in her chair, settling herself in while Alaric's father stood up, circling around to grab a glass. Scotch, of course. The only thing a real Avery would drink, and Alaric only watched his father long enough to determine his path before returning his gaze to his mother, ignoring the sound of glass on wood.

"Foolish boy," His mother chided. "You said the same thing about that Cresswell man, didn't you?"

Mentioning Dirk felt like a low blow, but it was true and Alaric knew that was something he had to live with, prompting him to lift his chin up and push his shoulders back, readying himself to have painful, shameful memories pulled back up. "Yes, I did." He said.

And I shouldn't have failed him, he thought.

"Good," His mother said, throwing Alaric. He hadn't expected her to be pleased, of all things. "Then we'll handle this situation the same as last time. You'll end this ridiculous dalliance and we'll find you a proper match, but we might need to do something to discredit this girl first. We'll find someone better this time - It can even be another blonde, if that's to your tastes, I think the Greengrass family has a child around your age..."

It was happening again, like someone had set a record on to play and it was finally starting to repeat. It felt like the bottom of Alaric's stomach had dropped out, his skin cold despite the fire in the room and Alaric's chest felt tight like there was a metal band restricting his breathing. Once again his mother was detailing his life while his father sipped and scotch and nodded, like she was handling some minor inconvenience to him that he didn't really care about and was only waiting to sign off on, like party expenses or house elf replacement or something like that. This was his life, they shouldn't do that.

"No." It came out quietly and not entirely evenly, something that Alaric soon realized and he cleared his throat before repeating. "No. I'm not going to do that."

"No?" His mother repeated, the word admittedly not one he said to either parent much and the sound of it had caused her to instantly shut up. "And just what do you think you're going to do instead?"

Standing up, Alaric glanced over at the scotch with a sense of longing before sighing. "I don't know, but you're not going to try marrying me off again. It made me miserable and besides, you're already getting a perfect marriage out of Ari. Leave me out of it."

His mother stood up as well, the distance closing between them as she stalked forward on tiny spike heels and glared, pink dots on her cheeks. "Excuse me?" She said, dangerously quiet and still completely polite, his father watching them with interest in the background. "Do you really want to disappoint us again, Alaric? Do you want to bring shame to our name? I won't let you do it, you're not bringing our family down for some illicit affair with a muggleborn. You'll either find a proper girl to marry or you will no longer be part of this family."

The shaking feeling was back, but he didn’t know if it was from anger or fear as he thought about the future his parents wanted before thinking with unwavering certainty, If I'm marrying anyone, it's Panda. "Fine." He said. "Then do it. Disown me. Burn me from the family tree because I don't want to be your ideal son anymore."

He saw it coming, but Alaric did nothing to stop it as his mother's hand flew through the air and slapped him across the face, the stinging sensation swift and sharp. It wasn't the first time she'd done it, there was a reason Alaric didn't like people reaching for his face, but it would likely be the last time.

"You've never been an ideal son." His mother hissed, and it was only at that point that Alaric realized his father stood up.

"And now I'm not a son at all," Alaric reassured her, turning away and going for the fireplace instead of the door that would take him out of the front. The chair on the mantle had held floo powder for as long as he could remember and it still did as he lifted off the lid and took some in his fingers. "Make sure to tell Ari they're an only child now, won't you?"

Not waiting for their response, Alaric tossed the floo powder into the fire and stepped in, yelling "Diagon Alley."

If he was lucky, his parents would thinking he was bluffing or they actually would get in touch with Ari in an attempt to make him change his mind. It didn't really matter what they did to Alaric as long as it bought him a little bit of time. He knew they would follow through on their threat eventually and disown him, but before they did, he planned on making it to Gringotts and getting as much money out of the family accounts as he could.

And after that, he was going to buy a damned engagement ring.

[blackaquokat]

Iv datective friends to romance

iv)    Somewhere along the way of getting into bar fights together, staying up allnight with movie marathons, other friendship things, I’ve fallen in love withyou but oh my god this could ruin EVERYTHING

For @dontworryaboutanything

So, inwriting this prompt, I’ve realized this is exactly the missing piece I need forpart of my DAtective series, ‘Law and Disorder’ and here we are! If you wish toknow the origin of this pairing, I shall direct your attention to how theymet inthis series. This work also foreshadows the next installment.

Oo00oO

Abe has no idea when it began.

Not the friendship, obviously. He will forever remember thatfirst meeting at the DA’s office, the way his lawyer friend took to the case likea shark to its prey. Then later, when the two of them were supposed to rejoice a job well-done, their close-minded asshole ofa coworker decided to ruin the celebration.

Although it wasn’t sobad. Their outing did end with a rather lovely sunset.

Since then, Abe has outright searched for reasons to spendtime with them in between cases. Advice on how to talk to a victim, checking inon them at home when appropriate, and sometimes just popping by without awarning because old habits die hard and he’s not so great at personalboundaries.

They haven’t kicked him out yet though, so Abe considers thata good sign. They’ve even taken initiative and dragged him to a few films,invited him out for drinks, and taken him to the pier again to watch thesunset.

He doesn’t even understand why he’s so intent to be around them. They’re easily annoyed,reticent, and not friendly at all,not in the typical sense anyway.

But then, maybe that’s it.

They aren’t typical. And neither is he.

True, the two of them are very different kinds of different, but hey, Abe likes to think that’sexactly why he’s drawn to them. The thrill of finding a kindred spirit willdwindle eventually, but he’ll drag it out as long as he can and then they’llboth move on to being mere acquaintances.

Which is what brings him to his current situation.

They’ve just completed their second successful case together,and rather than go to the pub, he drags them to the fair taking place in thecity.

“What part of ‘I really do not like crowds’ do you notunderstand, Lincoln?” they growl as he drags them by the hand down the street.

“What part of ‘Just trust me’ do you not understand?”

“Last time you said that, it was about the fact that you licked a corpse’s fingers beforeforensics could look it over.”

“Don’t start spouting logic, we’re supposed to be having fun.”

“You told me this in the courtroom.”

“Details, details, you’re still coming with me.”

Abe ignores the groan, because they’re only a few blocks awaynow.

“Abe, I appreciate that you’re trying to get me out of myoffice more, but I’m exhausted. Ijust want to go home and take a nap—”

They cut off when Abe pulls them to the entrance to the fair,staring wide-eyed at the bright lights everywhere, the countless tents andrides. The air smells of cigar smoke and fried food. Aggressively cheerfulmusic is played via strategically placed radios.

More importantly, however, there are a rather minisculenumber of people taking part in the festivities.

“Where…where is everyone?” they ask, looking at him withhesitant excitement.

“It’s the last day of the fair,” Abe answers. “It alsohappens to be Sunday, so everyone is at church right now. No lines, not toomany screaming kids, no risk of someone bumping into you and sending your foodeverywhere.”

“Abe that happened once!”they defend. “It’s not my fault you can’t watch where you’re going.”

“I could say the same about you.”

They laugh, making an enchanting sound that sends a jolt ofelectricity through his chest. “Anyway, um, the peanut vendor is over there, Ibelieve…” he mutters.

The pair spends a good two hours at the fair, sharing a bagof peanuts, making fun of the people looking at them with judging eyes, andtrying out a handful of the games offered. Oddly enough, Abe’s companion dominates the sharpshooter tent.

“You never told me you know how to use a gun,” Abe mentions.

They shrug. “It never came up. Is it really so surprising?”

“Not really, no.” Whey they glance at him, he explains, “Youdid tell me both of your parents were in the military. But, honestly, mostpeople just dissolve on the spot when you turn your Angry Eyes on, so youknowing how to shoot a gun doesn’t seem like much of a stretch.”

The corner of their lips quirk upward, and Abe suddenlynotices that they have dimples. Why is he just noticing that now? Why does that little detail make his chest thump faster?

Matter of fact, this entire evening has been an exercise in notstaring at them for too long, because damn it, this is a side of them he hasn’tseen yet. This utter delight, a smile bright as the moon, eyes lit up likefireworks, Abe wouldn’t be surprised if they started glowing of all things.

“I can’t believe you remembered that about my parents…” Theylook around some more before seeing, to his dismay, the Ferris wheel. “I haven’tridden a Ferris wheel in years.” Theystart heading in that direction and Abe moves with them.

They’re about to get on when they notice he hasn’t tried tojoin. “You’re not coming?”

“Uh…well…nah, I don’t…” Abe clears his throat. “Not too big afan of Ferris wheels. You go on ahead.” He shoves the last of the peanuts inhis mouth before he says anything incriminating.

They gaze at him a moment longer and he just prays they don’t read too much into hiswords. “Alright.” As they enter the ride, they turn back to him with a smirk. “Foryour information, if I could make people dissolve with my ‘Angry Eyes,’ therewould be four people left at the DA’s office, including myself.”

Abe chuckles so hard he nearly chokes on the peanuts.

After that ride, he walks them home in silence, which isuncharacteristic for him, but not so much for them. Normally their strollstogether involve him ranting about a case or his fellow officers while they nodin sympathy and occasionally throw in a complaint about their own coworkers.

This time the silence feels…different. If he didn’t know anybetter, he’d think they might have something they wish to talk about.

“Thanks,” they eventually say. “Thanks for, um, bringing mealong.”

“Not at all,” he answers. “These sorts of events aren’treally fun to take part in solo anyway—”

“I’m not done,” they interrupt. They take in a deep breathand roll their shoulders. “I’ve had exactly onefriend in my entire life. Due to our current career paths, we haven’t been ableto see each other as much, so I’ve been a little…lonelier than normal. I guess what I’m saying is…it’s nice to haveanother friend and not feel like I’m, um…too strange to be around.”

Abe’s mouth opens and shuts. What the hell is he supposed tosay to that? How does one respond to the realization that you’re one of two ofthe only acquaintances a kick-ass, emotionally distant ADA has?

Whether he would have found a response or not, Abe will neverknow, because they hurry to fill the awkward quiet with, “Also, the DA calledme into his office earlier today and said he planned on retiring early nextyear.”

It takes Abe longer than it should to switch gears. “Oh, um…that’sinteresting. Why would he tell you?”

They bite their lip, almost like they’re trying not to smile.The two of them stop walking. “God, I shouldn’t be telling you this…he basicallytold me that if I was interesting in being the DA, he would back me in aheartbeat.”

Abe swings around to face them, eyes bulging from his head. “I-you’reshitting me??!!”

“I had to pinch myself to keep from leaping with joy.”

He can’t help it. He grabs them into a hug and actually spins them around a few times beforesetting them back down, both of them laughing in joy as they start moving oncemore. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner? We could have been doing something farmore high class, like eating at a fancy restaurant or crashing a prom—”

“No, I hate big fusses, you know that,” they dismiss. “I just…Ireally wanted to tell someone. I mean, obviously this isn’t a guarantee. He’sgoing to announce his upcoming retirement soon, so I really need to buckle downand get started on a campaign. I’ve built a reputation in the community andmade a few public statements about community outreach, but I don’t exactly havefunds—”

“Hey, all of that will work out,” Abe interrupts. He’s still grinninglike an idiot until a thought occurs to him and it disappears. “I guess thismeans you’ll be pretty busy for a while, huh?” He tries to sound nonchalant,but he doesn’t think it works. Much as he’s been expecting this relationship todie down, he doesn’t want it to do so this soon.

They give him a strange look as they stop walking again. Aberealizes they’ve reached their home.

“I won’t be too busy to spend time with my favoritedetective,” they assert in a determined tone. “Not when he still owes me aFerris wheel ride.”

A nervous chuckle rumbles in his chest. “Uh…yeah, yeah,definitely…”

It’s time for them to part ways, but Abe is suddenly overwhelmedwith the thought that he should do somethingbefore the night officially ends. But what?A handshake? A hug? The thought of kissing them flashes through his headjust long enough to make his face turn beet red. He desperately hopes it’s darkenough under his cap that they don’t notice.

“Well…I had a lot of fun tonight, Abe,” they eventually say. “Thanksagain. I’ll see you again soon, alright?”

It takes three gulps to actually force a sentence out of hisdry throat. “Absolutely. Have a good night.”

When they finally entire their house, Abe stares at the doorfor the longest time, feeling like a total buffoon, before cursing to himself andhurrying down the street.

He never looks back, so he doesn’t see the attorney part theshades a hint to watch him leave, a smile tugging at their cheeks.

Oo00oO

The months pass and, unfortunately, Abe and the attorney’s timespent together shrinks a rather significant amount, what with Abe’s suddencaseload and them taking on more and more court cases to further solidify theirreputation.

They make time to leave him notes though, at his doorstep,especially if weeks go by without them seeing each other. He starts doing so inreturn, though not as often, he’s ashamed to say. He’s still awfully shook upby that night, the way they looked under the porchlights and how the thought ofkissing them actually crossed hismind.

Now that it’s happened once, it’s been happening more andmore often lately.

Abe will look over a case and notice a quirky detail, whichhe then wants to share with his friend, butthen those thoughts dissolve into definitelynot friendly thoughts and he’ll endup spilling his coffee on his lap. These sorts of incidents have happened, invarious ways, more than he’d care to admit.

Damn them. This is their fault. He’s never been this distracted byanyone except three of his pastpartners, and look at how those turnedout.

He just…he can’t.

Not again.

And so time goes on in this cycle of missed calls and lettersonly sometimes answered. Before either knows it, the DA retires, gives a glowing endorsement to Abe’s favoriteattorney, and it’s only a month later that they’re elected into office by an overwhelmingmajority.

Abe wishes he could say that he was at the celebration whenthe news hit, but he was seeing someone about a new case.

His old friend Mark had finallycontacted him again, after almost two years of complete silence. Their meetingended up lasting several hours, both catching up on the latest personal events(he suspects Mark hasn’t been particularly forthcoming about why he’s been sounreachable) and discussing what Mark wanted Abe to do for him. It turns out tobe a simple recon case: check out the guests and employees for an upcomingparty Mark is throwing. Nothing too out of the ordinary, aside from the Mayor,of all people, being included in that list.

But when he returns to his car and switches on the radio, hehears the results of the election.

At first, Abe lets out a whooping cheer in the confines ofhis car. He is so proud. They’veworked so hard for this, fighting for justice in the courtroom and againstprejudice in their own office…

Simultaneously, however,he felt this awful guilt gather inthe pit of his stomach at the realization that his friend had won a positionthey’ve been struggling to reach for so long and Abe wasn’t there to celebrate with them.

So now, with these thoughts eroding his mind, he leans hishead back against the seat of his car and makes a new resolution.

Abe will finish this case for Mark, check out these peoplelike he wants.

Then…then he’ll make it up to the new DA, somehow.

For the moment, he needs space to clear his head. Otherwise, he’llruin the best thing in his life.

Oo00oO

@skidspace , @peaceiplier , @beereblogsstuff , @sassy-in-glasses , @chelseareferenced , @musical-jim , @sketchy-scribs-n-doods , @cosmic–frappucino , @wkm-detective-abe-squad

Sendme a prompt for Detective Abe/DA, Damien/DA, Actor!Mark/DA!

[bigskydreaming]

Although just saying, if Bobby was a Horseman of Apocalypse he’d be Death, not Famine, even though it actually makes no sense for Bobby to ever be a Horseman because Apocalypse’s whole recruitment strategy is powering up his Horsemen and he can’t offer Bobby anything there because Bobby already has unlimited potential, you can’t like...power up unlimited potential (and yes I know technically he was a Horseman in House of M but that was a B/endis story and in the House of Kalen we don’t acknowledge B/endis stories unless we absolutely must, are you NEW here, have you not been paying ATTENTION, jee suss). 

ANYWAY, as I was randomly rhapsodizing before being so rudely interrupted by my own ADHD, ugh, that douche, the point of this little tangential post is that Marvel’s writers should really make use of the fact that they all write for the same company and occasionally TALK to each other about their stories, not just give each other shout outs on twitter while still clearly never reading each other’s stories.

Like I just mean, lots of writers (like B/endis) have no idea what to do with the fact that Bobby’s an omega mutant like Jean, and don’t get how his power translates into being so much more powerful than even mutants like Xavier, Apocalypse, etc, because like....he just makes ice right? Except if these writers would just TALK to the writers who worked on these characters before them, including ones who literally still work for Marvel and write books for them like Nicieza, then they could explain why they picked Bobby to be an omega mutant and their thought process and oh em gee this could have a verifiable effect on improving stories utilizing this character?

Anyway, fun factoid, the term omega mutant was thrown around since the 80s, when Claremont first used it to essentially describe mutants the Sentinels considered ‘ultimate threats’. But it was never canonized as meaning that, and in the late 90s, Nicieza and a couple other writers who escape me at the moment penned the stories that gave us our current and as yet un retconned definition of omega mutants.

History of omega mutants in the comics under the cut....

So in the Marvel U, for those that don’t know, there’s this ancient race of immortal space gods called Celestials who predated the Big Bang basically. And ever since then, they’ve been on this big experiment to sow the potential in every sentient race they come across for that race to evolve to the point where its members become on par with the abstract entities that created this current universe (Eternity, Death, etc)....so that they would ultimately end this current universe and create the next one, becoming the abstract entities that create and govern the next universe. It’s basically the life cycle of universes, in the Marvel U.

So in early human evolution, the Celestials got around to Earth and did their experiments, which planted the seeds for three future subspecies of humanity to ultimately emerge...the Eternals (Sersi, etc, the subjects of the MCU’s most recently announced movie), the Deviants, and mutants. Eternals and Deviants are both massively powerful, with the former practically being on a level with gods in the MU, Sersi being in Thor and Hercules’ league easily. But as powerful as the Eternals are, there’s a ceiling on that power. A point where even though they’re immortal, they’ve developed their powers as far as they’ll go. There’s no pushing them any further, they’re tapped out. And as the Eternals are all millennia old and basically don’t reproduce anymore or have much desire to, they’re about as evolved as that species is ever going to get, according to Marvel lore.

But then you have mutants, and more specifically, you have the few rare omega mutants like Jean and Bobby. Omega mutants, as canonized by these writers in the late 90s (as well as some stuff revealed in interviews as to where this was all building but they never got around to canonizing because of creative team shakeups, etc, so not technically canon but relevant for context of the thought process behind the stuff that is actually canon) - anyway, omega mutants, according to the official take, are supposed to be the ultimate culmination of the Celestial experiments. They’re it. The point of it all, the thing the Celestials were trying to bring about by messing with countless species....omega mutants are essentially baby space gods. Mutants with no ceiling on their powers, who have unlimited potential and some means of immortality and can keep growing and growing and growing, until at some point thousands or even millions of years in the future, they grow to be on par with the abstract entities, destroy the universe and bring about the next one.

What’s key here is the context that at the time they were writing these stories, there was a sort of unofficial headcanon that a lot of writers shared but nobody had actually written in story yet, and has since been retconned....but the thing was, at the time, a lot of these writers were riffing off the idea that Jean and the Phoenix were actually one and the same. That for all the talk of her being the ultimate Phoenix host, the reality was that she actually WAS the Phoenix, and always had been. Which doesn’t make sense at first glance, because the Shi’ar have tales of the Phoenix stretching back thousands of years, right, which is why they freaked out when Jean became Phoenix originally, back in the Dark Phoenix saga.

Except some writers liked the idea that Rachel Grey didn’t just inherit her mom’s telekinesis and telepathy....but that her other power came from her too. See, Rachel has another little known power the comics call chronoskimming. Essentially, she can project her mind throughout the timeline and interact psychically with people far in the past or far in the future. Cable and Nate Grey don’t have this power as fully developed as Rachel, but they’ve been shown or hinted to have it to some degree as well. So an idea being toyed with back in the nineties was that if all three kids of Jean Grey (or her clone, Maddie) inherited their TP/TK from her and all three of them have some form of this chronoskimming power....what if Jean had it too?

And so this is the part that was never officially canonized, just batted around, and part of the basis for coining Jean as an omega mutant, a mutant with unlimited potential, whose power could eventually evolve to the point of telekinetic and telepathic godhood, so vast she could essentially remake the universe. And that the Phoenix was the ultimate expression of her mutant potential, a cosmic force on track to eventually reach the level of the Abstracts and ultimately supplant them. So when they first made omega mutants as they exist in the comics now a thing, it was done so with the intent that becoming beings like the Phoenix was the end game for omega mutants. That evolving into the Phoenix over the course of thousands and even millions of years was Jean’s ultimate destiny as an omega mutant, with her able to survive past her initial mortal lifespan by becoming a psychic entity who could telekinetically create new bodies or vessels for herself from stray organic material any time she needed (a feat that different versions of her like teen Jean have done without the Phoenix).

And this is where Jean having Rachel’s chronoskimming power would’ve come into play, because if omega mutant potential with telekinesis and telepathy resulted in her being able to basically reshape the universe....omega mutant potential with chronoskimming could mean that Jean as the Phoenix could move throughout the timeline at will. So the idea was the Phoenix has always been what Jean would evolve naturally into over thousands of years, and then at some far distant point in the future, the Phoenix (being so old at that point that she’s forgotten she ever was Jean) for some reason sent herself back into the distant past. Which is how she came to be part of the Shi’ar’s ancient history and legends. So according to this take, Jean’s never actually been host to the Phoenix....its more that her millions of years old future self on some level recognized the seed she’d once started out as, and tried to reunite with her past baby self in order to reclaim parts of herself that she’d lost over the aeons, like her humanity.

And so even when other psychics have hosted the Phoenix force, the idea would have been actually what they were hosting was the far future evolution of Jean Grey, who didn’t NEED a host so much as she sought them out for that connection to her long forgotten humanity. Like a symbiotic relationship, she fuels their powers in exchange for them fueling her nostalgia. They get a taste of TK/TP godhood before she burns them out, they give her a taste of what she’s lost over her long immortal life as a cosmic level being. And that’s why Rachel was always the best Phoenix host and had the least problems with it, because Rachel’s her daughter, and on some level that resonated with the Phoenix. 

Anyway, how this all relates to Bobby is its literally why out of all possible mutants, writers picked him to be the other one alongside Jean, when they introduced this concept and said who the first two omega mutants are. It really does seem like the most random choice.....UNLESS you look at it in the context of the Phoenix being Jean’s ultimate evolution as an omega mutant.

Because what’s the Phoenix’s catch phrase? The thing she’s always saying? 

“I am fire and life incarnate. Now and forever - I am Phoenix.”

And that’s why Bobby is the other original omega mutant. He was picked to be her literal polar opposite, the end to her beginning just as she was to him. Where her ultimate omega evolution would be fire and life incarnate, his would be cold and death incarnate. The end of all things, just as the Phoenix is all about rebirth. That’s how you get the end of a universe and the start of a new one....which again, was the ultimate point of omega mutants.

And so the guy who makes ice isn’t actually as random as it seems when picking an all powerful mutant slash baby space god. Because makes ice isn’t really an accurate description of Bobby’s power. He has two, just like Jean has both telepathy and telekinesis, two separate and distinct, but still linked, powersets. Bobby is hydrokinetic and thermokinetic. He psychically manipulates both water molecules and temperature. That thing he does where he makes ice golems and animates them with his mind? You can’t do that just by controlling temperature...he’s only able to make his golems move because he’s literally controlling the water molecules they’re made of. It’s how he’s able to make ice constructs and create intricate statues and structures....he’s not just freezing the water molecules in the atmosphere, first he’s hydrokinetically moving those water molecules into the right positions so that once he freezes them, the ice that results is in the shape he’s imagined.

 Similarly, his ability to freeze things doesn’t actually require water molecules...he’s not limited to just freezing water, because its not hydrokinesis at play there. It’s thermokinesis, psychically dropping temperatures to any degree. Everything freezes if you get it cold enough, not just water. He’s made metal shatter by just freezing it until its so cold and brittle it can’t support its own weight.

He’s Iceman, known for making ice more than anything else, because this is the most obvious medium for these two powers, where they organically meet. But just like Jean, he’s also able to exist as a psychic entity independent of his body. Whenever his body’s destroyed, his mind sticks around until it can gather enough water molecules together to form a new ice form, and then he turns that ice form back into his human flesh and blood self, the same as he does any other time he transforms from human to ice and back again.

So Bobby’s powerset is and always has been a whole lot more than just making ice, and its this failure of imagination that always bugs. Because of course if you think that’s all he does, it sounds bizarre like oh he’s the most powerful any mutant can ever become, so.....he could make a lot of ice we guess? Maybe freeze the whole world? Well yeah. He could do that, and in fact he has (he also froze Hell once, so...). But put in the context of where the writers were going with this concept back when they first coined Bobby and Jean as omegas, Bobby’s ultimate evolution would be becoming a cosmic level entity that exists as the Phoenix’s opposite, able to basically make everything stop. All life, all creation, is just atoms in motion. Bobby’s power at its most stripped down is essentially taking that motion away. Freezing everything. Absolute zero. The end of all things. Forget freezing the whole planet, Bobby potentially could just turn off the sun, similar to how Jean as the Dark Phoenix once ‘devoured a sun’ by telekinetically dispersing its molecules throughout the universe.

But yeah, that’s what omega mutants were originally created to be, and to some degree still are because most of the framework of this concept still exists and has never actually been retconned. Future space gods, with the original conceit having been that millions upon millions of years in the future Bobby could some day end the universe by making it all just stop.....and then Jean as the Phoenix would telekinetically mash all those frozen, motionless molecules together and create a new Big Bang, with another universe being born of that, her telekinetic godhood being the ‘spark’ that ignites all molecular motion in a new universe.

And then other omega mutants theoretically would have their own roles. Josh Foley aka Elixir is an omega mutant who doesn’t just heal people, his power is actually omega level biokinesis, the ability to reshape the very building blocks of organic life in any way he wants. The perfect power to seed a new universe with organic life. Quentin Quire’s omega level telepathy, similar to Jean’s but not wholly the same, could create a new astral plane and spark sentient consciousnesses throughout a new universe. Storm’s never officially been canonized as an omega mutant, but its been teased, most significantly in an alternate future where she became a weather elemental after her body died, similar to how Bobby and Jean’s powers let them live on as psychic entities, and since Ororo’s been shown not just to manipulate Earth weather patterns but even cosmic storms, I think she damn well should be an omega mutant. (Same with Wanda whenever they eventually retcon their retcon of her being a mutant, which we all know they will. Wanda’s probability powers and the scale on which she’s used them to manipulate reality - stupid Life Force retcon aside - could easily make her a candidate for an omega mutant whose power turns the new universe into a multiverse full of infinite quantum possibilities).

Anyway, so that’s what omega mutants technically are (or are supposed to be, per the original direction of their concept) and why writers like Brubaker are dumb and don’t talk to anybody else before writing dumb things like how Gabriel Summers is ‘more than omega level’ like, no, Brubaker, that’s not a thing, I mean you do you but if you’re going to use existing terminology it behooves you to learn what it means, and per the still canon take on omega mutants, they are beings of infinite potential and you literally can not be a being of MORE than infinite potential, that’s not...no. Stop).

Although I do still accept Gabriel as an omega mutant who probably is still floating around the Fault way out in space existing as an angry, sulky energy ghost who will no doubt someday reconstitute himself into an angry, sulky Summers who comes back to Earth to yell at everyone for leaving him for dead in space AGAIN, how does this keep happening, technically he’s only like fifteen, god.

Because even the next universe needs a Summers hanging around to bring the drama, that’s why.

[usuknetwork]

USUK Christmas Countdown 2017: December 24

Title: The Great Jersey Escape Day 12: Reunion Summary:   Long distance relationships suck; getting stuck at the airport while trying to reunite with your long distance boyfriend sucks even harder. Rating: R Warning: Language, mentions of alcohol use, slight mocking of the ‘Joisey’ accent :3 (All in good fun! I love y’all~)

(Written by: @blackroseauthoress and Art by: @katiehime-draws )

In Arthur’s mind, there was only one good thing about airports: how easy they made it to find alcohol. Sure, it may take what feels like a bloody hour to find a restroom that isn’t closed for cleaning or just blocked off for unknown and unexplained reasons, but if you’re someone who needs to sit down and pay for a glass of horrifically overpriced whiskey? Well, you can find somewhere to do that in half a millisecond.

It was because they knew no one could get through this fucking experience sober. It was like Stockholm Syndrome. They destroyed your will to live with their long lines and constant delays and poking and prodding TSAs and then—like an oasis—granted you salvation in the form of intoxication.

‘Just give us your money and all your problems will disappear,’ the quiet voice of exhaustion and airport-fueled misery proceeds to whisper in your ear.

And Arthur Kirkland, at the least, was more than willing to accept.

He blamed this entire disaster on Alfred, by the way. Or wanted to, at least. After all, it was his idea for Arthur to come visit him during the holidays, despite knowing that flying this time of year was its own special brand of torture.

“Come on, Artie, imagine how great it’ll be to spend Christmas together! This is the first year we’ve both got time off and since we haven’t been able to see each other in months anyway...” They’d been speaking over Skype and, right after he said that, there was a split second of silence that could be blamed on lag—and Alfred would prefer if he did blame it on something technological—but Arthur knew wasn’t. Mostly because he was feeling his own, companion twinge of sadness.

He hadn’t wanted this separation to last so long. The original plan was for Arthur to move to the States to be with his boyfriend almost two years ago, but then he received an offer for what was basically the job of his dreams and Alfred wouldn’t even let him consider saying no. “Absolutely not! We’ll figure something out! If I can find something over there, then maybe we’ll just do it the other way around!”

But, then, his mom got sick and Alfred couldn’t leave her. Arthur wouldn’t have let him anymore than Alfred would let him give up his job.

So, this long-distance relationship had lasted for much, much longer than either intended. And because of that, the idea of spending Christmas together after so many months apart was so appealing... that Arthur figured he could just deal with the miseries of air travel.

But, oh how he’d underestimated them.

Arthur glared at the drink resting at his elbow, then lifted it to his lips and polished it off with a single gulp. Everything hurt right now. His eyes felt like they were filled with sand, his ass was numb, everything was woozy and disorienting—although that could probably be blamed on the booze.

The initial plan was that he’d arrive at Newark airport at 12:45pm. It would be his last layover, just a little over two hours. He’d then take a short, hour and a half flight to a little airport in upstate New York where Alfred would pick him up, and then they’d drive the last hour and a bit to his place.

He’d expected some changes to the plan, because when did a plane ever leave exactly on time, but he’d hoped to avoid this.

Arthur groaned and turned to poke at the screen beside him. These were also nice airport things, he supposed, the little screens at the bars and restaurants that let you order your drinks without having to actually interact with another human being. They also made it way too easy to spend all your money, but at this point he was too exhausted to care.

His cell phone, which he’d set on the bar beside him, briefly lit up. Arthur eyed it for a moment, then reached over and scooted it over with a single finger. He looked down at the screen and just barely resisted the urge to chuck the goddamn thing in some random direction.

Another delay, of-bloody-course. Of-bloody-fucking-bloody-course.

This was the last time Arthur was ever willingly stepping on a fucking plane. Next time he had to travel from England to the States, he’d rent a fucking canoe.

It was 10:38pm. He’d been in this airport for nine hours—or something like that, he was too drunk and exhausted to care about math.

That 12:45pm flight had arrived in Newark pretty much right on time. And it’d actually been a tolerable flight. He’d flown steerage, since Alfred insisted he pay for the tickets and that’s all he could afford, but he’d ended up being moved to a seat with more leg room. The girl sitting beside him had been the perfect seat companion too. She just smiled at him when she sat down and then spent the rest of the flight reading and listening to music through her headphones. There weren’t any screaming babies or passengers kicking his seat. He hadn’t managed to sleep, which he considered slightly unfortunate at the time, but otherwise it was fine.

But then they arrived in fucking Newark and as soon as he turned his phone off airplane mode, there it was... ‘Welcome to Newark. Your next flight is cancelled. Fuck you.’

At least, that’s what it might as well have said. The girl in the seat beside him apparently received a similar text, since he heard her swear under her breath and then she began typing frantically, presumably alerting whoever was supposed to pick her up of the issue. Something Arthur had known he’d have to do too.

Although, he figured he’d deal with it after enduring the goddamn wait at customer service. Which also ended up as a fuck you, because the obviously-dead-inside representative said there was only one flight to that airport leaving today and it was totally booked. “We can put you on standby. If somebody else doesn’t show up, you might be able to take that flight.”

He’d agreed, because what else could he do? But, of course, that flight wasn’t scheduled to leave until 10:25pm, which meant he’d had the joyous experience of spending hours stuck in bloody Newark Airport. He’d spent the hours switching between wandering around aimlessly and sitting around in various locations, waiting impatiently for the hour of truth to arrive.

The goddamn thing ended up being announced as delayed—the first time—at 10:16pm, which was when Arthur decided to just go find some booze and soak his miseries. Because he seriously seriously doubted he was getting out of here tonight.

When the bartender brought his fresh drink, he wisely chose to avoid small talk. His eyes may have held a slight bit of sympathy, but Arthur knew this man saw such suffering every day that it would be dangerous to feel too much for the stranded traveler.

He sighed, reached for the drink, but then paused when he saw the screen of his phone light up again. He glared at it; if this was another delay or, as now seemed more likely, a cancellation, he really was going to launch the goddamn thing into orbit.

Except then he realized that the screen was still alight and there was a green button and a red button... An actual call. He turned his head to read the name, which took a couple seconds longer than it probably should’ve. It was Alfred.

He answered, although the “Hello” that came out of his mouth was one that had no time or patience for bullshit.

Alfred, of course, responded with a laugh. “Hey, Artie! I take it you’re still stuck in Ol’ Joisey, then.”

Arthur really hated the way he said that. Such a stupid joke and one that he didn’t even get.

“Although not really ‘Ol’ Joisey’ because if you were there, you’d still be back in England!”

“No, Jersey isn’t actually part of Eng—”

Alfred interrupted him. “So, what’s goin’ on with the plane? Is it still delayed or did you not get off the waitlist?”

“It’s delayed.” Arthur scowled at the distant screen that showed the status of their plane, as well as the list of passengers on standby. The very long list of passengers on standby. “Honestly, I doubt I’m going anywhere tonight. There are two other flights here going to the same general area and they’ve both been delayed too. One was supposed to leave at 3:34pm and the attendant just announced that the plane is on the way.”

Alfred whistled. “Jeez. Wonder what the issue is... There hasn’t been any snow up here in days.”

Arthur felt slightly disappointed by that. He’d rather been hoping for a white Christmas...

But then he was startled by the sound of a very very enraged-sounding honk and equally enraged, “Fuck you! That was your own fault, asshole!” coming from the other end of the line.

“Dude, Mattie, chill...” Alfred was very obviously not talking to him anymore.

“Are you driving?” he asked.

Alfred returned to the conversation. “Course not! Mattie’s the one driving! It’s illegal to talk on your phone while driving!” There was a moment of silence. Arthur was about to ask something, but then he was interrupted by Alfred’s voice sounding like he’d moved away from the speaker again. “Wait, is that still a thing here?”

“I assume so? It’s not safe either way—ARE YOU SERIOUSLY NOT LETTING ME IN, YOU MOTHERFUCKER!?”

“Dude, douche move!” Alfred was yelling at someone too and Arthur was honestly just confused right now. Maybe it was the booze... He probably should stop for the night.

“Alfred, where are you?”

“Where else?” And his voice had such an obnoxious, overly-cheerful pep to it. “Can’t you hear Mattie yelling at the obnoxious drivers? We’re in Jersey, baby! The one not in England.”

“I was just telling you that Jersey isn’t in England. It’s part of the British Isles.” This was completely irrelevant to their conversation, but there was a part of his brain that always needed to correct Alfred when he made stupid comments like that. Now, on to the more important part. “Why are you in New Jersey?”

He heard someone snort, which he imagined came from Alfred’s brother, rather than Alfred himself. Further evidenced when Alfred proclaimed, “We’re coming to rescue you from Joisey, dude!”

...What?

“Ya told me earlier that you’re like number 8 on that standby list and I told Mattie there’s no way there’s gonna be that many people missing the flight for whatever reason. So, I was like, ‘dude, we should just go pick him up! It’s not that far of a drive!’”

“About five and a half hours,” Matthew’s voice supplied.

“Yeah, exactly! That’s not bad at all! So, we’re actually only like...” a slight pause. “GPS says eighteen minutes from the airport, so you should totally get out of the terminal and go to wherever the heck they have people greet passengers so we can pick you up!”

...A repeated mental ‘what?’

“You actually drove five and a half hours to pick me up from the airport? Just in case I wasn’t able to get on my flight?”

“Yep!” Alfred continued to sound overly-cheerful. “I’m actually pretty happy you’re still there, cuz if you weren’t Mattie would’ve been pissed.”

“Not entirely. I’d just force you to pay for both our tickets tomorrow.”

“Oh!” Alfred’s exclamation was so loud that Arthur actually had to pull the phone away from his ear. He also managed to startle a lady who was just about to sit in one of the seats near him. She sent him a slightly suspicious glance and decided to choose a seat farther away. “Almost forgot! Mattie doesn’t wanna drive all the way back tonight, so we’re going to the City tomorrow! And we’re gonna go see Aladdin on Broadway! And see the Rockefeller Christmas tree and we could go ice skating like in that movie!”

Mattie snorted again. “I seriously doubt Arthur would want to do that. I’ve been in New York City around Christmas time before and there’s no way skating in the rink is worth standing in that line.”

“Either way!” Alfred was still shouting; Arthur was still keeping the phone away from his ear. “Be ready for us! Mattie’s gonna wait with the car and I’ll come in and get you and I’ll have a sign, so there’s no way we’ll miss each other!”

Arthur was smiling, although he tried not to. This was just too stupid for words... “All right, but I don’t think we’ll be able to get any money back for my ticket.” And he had no idea how he was going to get his luggage... Thankfully he’d been smart enough to pack a couple days’ clothing in his carry-on.

“Doesn’t matter! I just didn’t want to have to wait a whole ‘nother day to see you...” There was a moment of quietness after that, only broken by a loud honk from behind and another curse from Mattie. “Um...” And he actually sounded slightly embarrassed, which was rather uncommon to hear in Alfred’s voice. “Okay, I should probably let you go, then, so you can get out of there! I’ll see you soon!”

Arthur nodded, although Alfred obviously couldn’t see and pulled the phone away from his ear. Alfred had already hung up.

The bartender sent him a look that held at least a shot of amusement. “Well, will that be it for you, then?”

“Yeah,” Arthur turned his attention to the touchpad and hurriedly paid for his drinks while purposely avoiding looking at the total. He grabbed his carry-on and slid his phone into his pocket. Then, with nothing else really to say or do, he sent the bartender a grateful nod, turned, and began walking toward where he remembered seeing a sign for the exit.

It took a while to figure out where he was going—these places were always rather maze-like—but eventually he found the passenger pick-up area. There weren’t many people there, just a few families and individuals who were obviously waiting for arrivals and some others who looked like they were waiting for someone to take them away from this hellish place.

There definitely weren’t enough people present that anyone would need a sign to catch their newly-arrived boyfriend’s attention.

Particularly not a massive, neon-yellow sign that had “WELCOME ARTIE! SORRY YOUR FLIGHT SUCKED!” written on it in big, blue, bubble letters and which was absolutely covered with hearts, drawn with what looked like glitter glue. Oh, and there were stickers… Tons of random, completely unrelated stickers.

“Artie! Over here, Artie!” And you definitely didn’t need that type of sign if you were going to just scream your boyfriend’s name anyway. Alfred was standing near a set of doors, waving the sign overhead and grinning like a little kid on Christmas morning.

Arthur knew he was bright red now. Most of the other people waiting in the room had turned to look at them. He heard a girl go “aww,” which was basically mortifying.

He wrestled his carry-on toward Alfred and hurriedly pushed the sign down to his side. “You don’t need to be so loud, git. There’s only half a dozen people in here!”

Alfred just continued to grin and draped an arm over his shoulder. “I know! But I wanted to make sure you saw me right away and didn’t go wander off and get lost! You don’t wanna spend any more time in ‘Joisey’ than you have to, right?”

Arthur rolled his eyes.

“So, then…” And that was all the warning Arthur received before Alfred dropped the sign—which slid a few feet away with a little ‘swoosh’ noise—and then threw his arms around him in a massive hug. “It’s so good to see you, Artie! I missed you so much!”

He was too startled to immediately respond, but Arthur slowly wrapped his arms around his boyfriend in a return embrace. “I—I missed you, too.” It’d been way too long… He’d almost forgotten what it felt like to feel his boyfriend’s arms around him like this.

Alfred just kept squeezing him, almost to the point of lifting him off his feet, and then released just long enough to lean down and give him a quick peck on the lips. More ‘public’ than Arthur generally allowed, but Alfred probably knew that he’d let him get away with it when it’d been so long.

“We should get going, then! Mattie’s waiting outside and we’ve got a hotel room booked already and we’ve got a busy day ahead of us tomorrow!” He bent over to grab the sign, grabbed Arthur’s carry-on without asking, and then bounded toward the exit.

All Arthur could really do was follow, as they made their escape from Newark airport.

[fourteenacross]

H’OKAY. SO. Last night we saw Dave Malloy as Pierre!! :D

We’d been planning this trip since they announced he was doing a series of shows--we knew we had to see him but we needed to make it work with timing and vacation days and stuff like that, so we ended up tagging this trip onto the front of my trip to Charlotte later this week, which inadvertently made it the first show after the Tonys, which we won’t talk about because I think I’ve made my saltiness on that front PRETTY CLEAR so far. With things working out the way they did, we decided that we should get a gift for Malloy to acknowledge how much this show has meant to us and that he won all the Tonys in our hearts. Initially I thought a plant was a good idea because flowers die and are also awkward to carry around. From there, my brain thought: well, we should put it in a box so he can just throw it in his bag. We should decorate the box. We should decorate the box to look like the theatre.

(At queer speed dating the other night, someone asked me which Parks and Rec character I most identify with. I said, “I feel like Ben Wyatt, but if you ask any of my friends, they’d say I’m Leslie Knope.”)

So, we decided all this on Monday night? So Tuesday was spent running around getting fabric and glue guns and putting all of this together. All of the little frames have pictures of members of the creative team. It’s PRETTY DARN CUTE, I’ve gotta say.

The entire day was a wild ride--we got the thing done just in time, then realized that my dad had taken my car keys with him so we were gonna miss the bus. Then he managed to get them to us in time for us to make the bus. Then the bus was stuck in traffic TWICE AS LONG AS USUAL. The florist was out of succulents and I had to run all over to find one. Literally run. I ran. With my legs and my lungs and stuff. It was the worst. But I managed to get to the theatre at 6:55 and use the rest room and get into my seat and chug a smoothie.

AND THEN THE SHOW STARTED!

First off, as you can see from the top picture that I wasn’t supposed to take, we were sitting in the rear mezz. We’ve only ever sat on stage before, so it was fascinating to watch the show from this angle. It made the lighting and set and choreography really come alive. I love sitting on stage--I love being at the center of the action and watching the show unfold around you--but I felt like I got a clearer picture of how the whole thing works as a cohesive unit from sitting in the mezz.

Still, the Imperial isn’t that big! Even sitting like, four rows from the back, I felt like we were right in the middle of things. And, bless that ensemble, the hardest working folks on Broadway, they were up and down the aisles even as far back as we were, dancing and singing and handing out shakers and playing instruments and who knows what else. At one point, Erica Dorfler was right in my face and she’s so pretty that I literally forgot how to shake my shaker, jesus christ. We had a great view of “Coachella Sonya” in the “Balaga”/”The Abduction” dance break, which I was into XD Also, Nick Gaswirth’s excellent dancing was only a few rows away from us.

There were a lot of tiny things I noticed from up high, too--Or and Nick Belton buddying around during “The Duel” and “Balaga”/”The Abduction,” the way Pierre reacts to things happening in the show as he sits in his little hole during the numbers he isn’t in, Anatole admiring himself in L I T E R A L L Y every mirror he walks by, though that might just be a Blaine Krauss thing XD “The Duel” in general was a really fun experience from up high--it was neat to see EVERYTHING instead of just being overwhelmed and in the middle of things. I was removed enough from the action that my brain had time to remember the first time we saw the show at ART when “The Duel” started and I was just like, “.....what the hell IS this show?” 

I know I already talked about how good the lighting is, but the lighting is just so fucking good, you guys. The tiniest, most subtle little changes, the way that all the lights slowly go out during “Sonya Alone” until it’s just the spot on her, the lights coming down from the ceiling one by one in “No One Else” like snow falling, the use of the bright lights behind the doors, THE COMET, all of these wonderful, tiny little touches. It was beautiful.

In addition to Malloy, we had two other understudies! Blaine Krauss as Anatole was A M A Z I N G. Some understudies have a problem with trying to emulate the performance of the person they’re subbing for, but that was NOT THE CASE here. Blaine totally made the role his own--his Anatole was delightful and outrageous and over the top and full of himself and vain and hilarious. He definitely had a funnier spin on it than Lucas does, and almost more immature? Like, Lucas’ Anatole isn’t exactly a paragon of maturity, but he wants to THINK he’s mature. Blaine’s Anatole is just a brat and knows it and owns it. His comic timing was AMAZING and he hit the high C sharp and he was overdramatic and fun.

We saw Azudi Onyejekwe as Dolokhov, too! I’ve been wanting to see him as Anatole, but his Dolokhov was great. Much like Blaine, he didn’t try to emulate Nick, just went his own way with it. His Dolokhov was cocky, but not as mean as Nick’s (not a complaint--both are great interpretations) and more laid back and fun-loving. Dolokhov is a character without too much to do (as mentioned directly in the Prologue XD) and it would be easy for him to fade into the background, but much like Choksi, Azudi really kept him front and center in the scenes he was in.

The rest of the cast was phenomenal as usual--Grace had her everything dialed up to eleven, Amber got some of the loudest cheers of the night, Denee is a literal angel upon this earth and “No One Else” was more heartbreakingly beautiful than I’ve ever seen it, Gelsey was amazing, Paul Pinto is insane, Nick’s Andrey continues to be SO angry, and I would TAKE A BULLET for Brittain I love her so fucking much. The ensemble killed it, I do not understand how a person can run up the stairs while playing the clarinet, but there’s Cathryn Wake doing it like it’s no big thing.

And Malloy. MALLOY.

I feel so blessed to have seen him do this on Broadway. He was incredible. I mean, obviously he was going to be incredible, but his Pierre is SO different from Scott’s and Groban’s. He’s just tired and hunched and distant and awkward and it works so, so well. He pours so much of himself into this character and it’s so obvious, even from all the way in the mezzanine. His “Dust and Ashes” made me cry and feel a hundred feelings--the resounding applause and cheers he got afterwards was so heartening. It kept going on and on and on and that made me get all teary too. He was hilarious in “The Duel,” both in the actual dueling and the lead-up song. Watching him watch the other characters was like getting a whole additional show for the price of my ticket--his emotional journey makes even more sense if you factor in what he’s seeing from the people around him as the story plays out. He and Denee and Gelsey doing “I see nothing but the candle in the mirror” gave me chills and I loved the way he did “Nothing matters--or everything matters, it’s all the same.” It was a really cool take on the line. He was great during the toast part of “The Abduction,” with a funny little pause before he started that was either because he was genuinely out of breath or entirely for comedic effect. Either way, it worked XD 

And, of course, the end of the show was beautiful. From his “whaaaat”s to Marya and his angry threatening of Anatole and desperate need to understand first Andrey and then Natasha...my heart. His spoken lines were so perfect and I started bawling in “The Great Comet of 1812″ and basically didn’t stop until the show was over. 

God, the end of this show WRECKS ME in a totally different way than something like Hamilton wrecks me. My feelings in Hamilton are all about the story, about Eliza and AHam’s legacy and all of that. My feelings at the end of this show are all internal--it’s how this moment is making me feel and the connection I’m having with Pierre and with the ensemble and the music at this particular point in time. It’s so hard to explain, but it’s like...cleansing. That sounds ridiculous, BUT THERE YOU HAVE IT.

ANYWAY, after the show we went out to the stage door. It was about nine hundred degrees outside STILL and it took me about two minutes to turn into a gross sweat monster. We were surrounded by all these sweet teen girls who looked perfect and refreshed and it was mildly hilarious. We chatted with people as they came out, including Scott who was smiling vaguely as he walked by until we said, “We saw you at ART and you were great!” and he did a double take and ran back over to talk to us. 

Malloy finally came out and got down to us around 10:30 and we talked to him and told him how much we adore this show and how great he was and gave him his dumb gift and I made him sign my Great Comet book and take a selfie. I do not remember most of this conversation, but I am pretty sure I didn’t entirely embarrass myself.

And then we left and got frappachinos because I was dying for a milkshake and technically can’t have them. And we went back to Port Authority and took the bus home and went to bed and THAT WAS THE END OF THE NIGHT. Whew.

[battle-scarred-raven]

Fanfic: Change Isn’t Easy (Part 2)

Title: Change Isn’t Easy

Part: 2

Fandom: Halo/RvB

Pairings: Past California/Carolina (mentioned), Past Yorkalina (mentioned), CarWash, California/Kesan (@k-dradom‘s Sangheili character)

Summary: Carolina, Wash and the Reds and Blues travel to Sanghelios. The Freelancers run into an old friend who has moved on with her life. Meanwhile, California nervously awaits seeing her friends again, knowing she didn’t part with them last in the best way and a lot has happened since…

As they say, change isn’t easy. Takes place after Season 15 of RvB. Probably going to end up canon divergent.

Warnings: Canon typical language in both English and Sangheili.

Notes: Translations for Sangheili throughout this fanfic are provided via hyperlink (hover over linked text to see the translation. Some phrases are not exact.)

Carolina was unusually silent as the Pelican she and everyone else were in made its final descent down to Sanghelios’ surface. She had travelled to many planets, but had never set foot on the Sangheili homeworld before. It was certain to be an experience she wouldn’t forget.

Opposite her, the Reds were chatting and bickering with one another. To her left, Tucker was trying to calm down an excited Caboose who kept shouting about being excited to go to “Crunchbite’s home”. Tucker had been initially excited too, talking about how his son was here, which surprised Carolina. Besides all the babies he had fathered on Chorus, she had forgotten he already had a child. She had fallen quiet not long after that, her own lost future weighing heavily on her mind.

Someone squeezing her right hand startled Carolina from her reverie and her head snapped in the direction. Wash returned her look and she wagered that, underneath his helmet, his expression was likely concern. She returned his squeeze, unashamed; past her might have yanked away, but ever since the whole fiasco with Temple and the Blues and Reds, they had gotten a lot closer. A lot, lot closer. She had finally decided to let her guard down and let Wash be her future now, something he had thankfully agreed to. The guys had teased them about it once they found out (purely by accident, no thanks to Tucker), but they were also surprisingly supportive of it to the point Carolina almost embarrassed herself by crying. Thankfully, Wash had been there to make her feel better, just as he was now.

“You alright, Carolina?” He asked her gently, rubbing circles over her hand with his thumb. “You seem out of it.”

“I’m fine, Wash.” She whispered back to him, though leaned her head on his shoulder gratefully all the same. “It’s just...”

“Having trouble wrapping your head around the fact we’re going to the Elite homeworld?” He interjected softly, rubbing circles the other way instead. “To be honest, I am too. The Great War wasn’t that long ago. Hard to believe most of these guys are our friends now, especially after I fought more than a few of them. Hell, they destroyed most of the system I had my basic in.”

“They killed my mother.” Carolina’s voice was sombre. “Well... the Covenant they were a part of did, at least. Whether it was a Sangheili that did it or not, I’ll never know. My father never told me, and he’s dead now.”

I know, Wash wanted to say. But the rest of the guys didn’t know about Carolina’s parentage – hell, he didn’t even know how much she knew about how much he knew about her from Epsilon – so he refrained. Instead, he settled for leaning his head lightly on hers.

“This probably re-opens some wounds for you, doesn’t it?” He instead answered, “We could have not come, you know. The, uh, ‘Arbiter’ only wanted to see Tucker.”

“You trust Tucker that much?” A short chuckle escaped the other Freelancer’s mouth. “He’d have gotten into trouble somehow, and you know it. No, better this way. I can put my feelings aside for a few days for friends.”

The for family wasn’t said, but Carolina knew Wash had gotten the idea when he shifted a little in surprise. It surprised her too, truth be told, just how attached to the Reds and Blues she had gotten. Grif was like her long lost lazy Hawaiian second cousin or something, Simmons was his nerdy boyfriend who bickered with him a lot, but actually really loved him. Sarge was the crazy uncle she’d never had and Donut was her gay cousin. Lopez was a distant Mexican relation, Caboose was like her younger brother or a young nephew and Tucker was either her crazy wingman black cousin or just regular wingman, she could never decide. And she would do anything for them, anything to keep them safe.

As for Wash, he was... well. Wash was her boyfriend now, apparently. It was a crazy family, but a family nonetheless. One she wouldn’t trade for anything. However, despite her fondness and protectiveness of them, it wasn’t just them she was worried about when she had decided to tag along to Sanghelios.

“It’s... not just that, though.” She admitted finally after a long silence. “Keeping the guys out of trouble is one reason I came, but it wasn’t the only one. And... it’s also the reason I’m a little... out of it, as you say.”

“Oh?” Carolina could almost hear Wash’s eyebrow rise behind his golden visor.

“California is on Sanghelios.”

There was another silence as Carolina’s words sank into Wash. “Oh.” Then, “Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“When did you find that out?”

“I listened for communications from time to time back on the moon.” The cyan Freelancer admitted quietly. “There was an article about an ambassador codenamed Huntingdon that had been brokering treaties between the UNSC and the Swords of Sanghelios. California told me that was the name she’d been going under all these years. So I knew it had to be her. I... sent a communication to her prior to us leaving for Sanghelios, but she never replied. I don’t know if she ever got it or not.”

“If she’s an ambassador now, she could just be busy.” Wash pointed out, his thumb motions stopping.

“True, but... well. She just up and left us on Chorus without a word. Maybe I can’t speak, because I did that to you guys back when we crashed there, but...”

“It hurts.” The steel and yellow clad Freelancer finished for her. Carolina raised her head to look up at him.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” He nudged her lightly. “You did what you had to, and if you hadn’t, we might never have known what was going on with Chorus. We might not have won.”

“Hmm, I don’t know about that.” Carolina hummed dismissively, shaking her head. “We had a lot of help.”

“Yeah, but you got the ball rolling to the greater good. Anyway, it’s not like you didn’t come back for us. And you had good reasons to leave. Maybe Cali did, too.”

Carolina stiffened, thoughtful for a moment, before letting out a sigh and relaxing.

“Maybe you’re right-”

“Hey, lovebirds!”

Both Freelancers looked up to the source of the interruption, only to find Tucker standing there, one arm holding a bar above them to steady himself, his other hand on his waist. When had he gotten up?

“Christ, I thought you two would never stop talking.” The aqua soldier shook his head at them.

“What is it, Tucker?” Wash asked, mildly irritated, beating Carolina to the punch.

“We’re about to land in Vadam.” He told them, and Carolina swore she could hear the excitement from before returning to his voice. “Just waitin’ for the all clear to land.”

“Oh, right.” The steel and yellow clad Freelancer deadpanned him, before shifting to stand. It was at this point Carolina saw the others had already stood up as well, before taking note of Wash’s offered hand and allowing him to pull her up.

“Thanks.” She told him gratefully, lowering their hands once she was stood. When Wash didn’t let go like she thought he would, she gave his hand a squeeze, mirroring the one he’d given her earlier.

The Pelican bounced its occupants a little as it finally touched down, before a hiss of air announced the opening of the rear bay doors. As they did, Carolina reluctantly let go of Wash, squinting into the daylight revealed by the now open bay doors. Beyond them awaited a small delegation of Sangheili, led by a particularly aged, dark skinned Sangheili with a missing upper mandible, red and bone coloured battle-scarred armour and the iciest blue eyes. His remaining three mandibles pressed close together, yet there was amusement in his eyes, and it took Carolina a good while to register that the expression was the Sangheili version of a smile.

Before the delegation leader could introduce himself, and mere seconds after they had all exited the Pelican, an aqua and blue armoured figure barrelled into Tucker from nowhere, almost making Carolina reach for her Battle Rifle on her back. The only thing that stopped her was the sound of Tucker laughing and her initial alarm was soon replaced with an overwhelming sense of confusion.

“Junior! Buddy!” Tucker called out in delight, hugging the figure, which Carolina realised was another Sangheili, far taller than the delegation leader, which made the act of Tucker hugging him absurd. “Man, I’ve missed you. Sorry I couldn’t be there for your graduation, and all that. Too much saving the world and getting chicks. You know how it goes.”

As the Sangheili rumbled something she couldn’t make sense of, the pieces connected rather abruptly for Carolina. This Sangheili was Tucker’s son. She had been present when he had shown Doyle the photo of him with his school basketball team, but she had only been listening vaguely at that point. Wash and the others didn’t seem the slightest bit fazed at all. How was this a thing she was only just learning about now?

“Jora!” The Sangheili delegation leader’s deep voice rumbled, cutting off celebrations and reunions. He then barked something she couldn’t understand and the other Sangheili pulled away from his father, seemingly apologising in kind, both to his fellow Sangheili and his father.

“Hey, it’s alright, kid.” Tucker offered in sympathy. “Don’t let me keep you from the important shit. Come find me later, ‘kay?”

Junior said something else, to which Tucker just nodded before the Sangheili left. All eyes fell onto the delegation leader after that.

“My apologies for interrupting your reunions, but Kaidon ‘Vadam wishes to speak with you immediately, Lavernius Tucker.” He rumbled, this time in English.

“Nah, it’s cool. Arbiter can be impatient and stubborn, I get that.” The aqua soldier replied casually, and inside her helmet, Carolina visibly cringed at his demeanour. She severely hoped this wasn’t how he talked to the Arbiter, too.

“His stubbornness is what has kept the bulk of Sanghelios united thus far.” The old Sangheili’s voice turned grave. Honest. “Were it not for Kaidon ‘Vadam, Sanghelios would have been left in ruins long ago. But that matters not now. I am Fal ‘Mantakr, your emissary during your stay in Vadam Keep. Come. We will take you to Kaidon ‘Vadam. After you.” He gestured forward with his right hand.

The other Sangheili with Fal dispersed, and the Reds and Blues, led by Tucker, followed them. As Carolina and Wash made to move, however, Fal stopped them with his other hand, icy eyes squinting momentarily.

“Hmm, no. Not you.” He rumbled at the two Freelancers. “I was instructed to take you elsewhere.”

Carolina threatened to get defensive, but seeing this, Wash stepped in, blocking her with an arm. “Fal, was it?” The Sangheili’s name rolled off uneasily from his tongue. “No offense, but we’re staying with our friends, and I’d rather this not be made into something bigger if we can all help it.”

“Your friends are in safe hands, if that is your concern.” Fal regarded them carefully.

“You’ll forgive us if that isn’t exactly a comfort.” Carolina added in, trying not to grit her teeth.

“It is out of my hands, Dohmoh.” Fal shook his head, sympathy laced in his tone. “These instructions came from one of our ambassadors, T’las ‘Vadam. She wished to speak to you the moment you arrived at Vadam.”

By this point, the commotion had caused the Reds and Blues to stop and turn around, wanting to know what the fuss was about. The rest of the Sangheili delegation stopped walking too, a little further ahead of them.

“What’s all th’ fuss about?” It was Sarge who spoke first, surprisingly. “Do I hafta administer my tried ‘n’ true brand of Red justice on ‘em? ‘Cuz it’d be kinda a shame to ruin that fancy red ‘n’ white armour...”

“That... won’t be necessary Sarge.” Wash answered back, strained. Carolina just groaned internally.

“Dagnabit! You’re safe fer now, alien fellah, but I got my eye on you.”

Fal’s gaze flicked between Sarge, the Freelancers and the rest of the Reds and Blues, before finally settling on Tucker questioningly.

“Just ignore him.” The aqua captain answered the old Sangheili’s unasked question. “But really, what’s going on, though?”

“Fal wants us to go meet with an ambassador.” Carolina was the one to respond to him. “Not sure why, but she really wants to talk to us.”

“Meh, I’m sure we’ll be fine without you for a few hours. I mean, come on, we survived without you before!” The grin in Tucker’s voice could almost be heard.

“Why does that not fill me with confidence?” Wash deadpanned him quietly.

“You trust us that little?” Tucker sounded offended.

“It’s not you I’m worried about.” Wash countered, looking towards the others.

“We’ll be fine, Wash! Seriously, you need to stop being paranoid. We can meet up again later.”

“I guess that settles that, then.” Carolina agreed, though she didn’t sound too thrilled by the prospect either. “You go see the Arbiter, we’ll see this ambassador and we’ll meet somewhere in the city surrounding the keep. How’s that sound?”

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t do anything we wouldn’t do.”

With that, the two parties separated, one heading towards the Keep tower itself and the other heading towards Vadam’s outskirts. As Carolina and Wash followed Fal, she stuck close to her fellow Freelancer, unable to shake the sick feeling from her gut.

The sooner she was back with the others, with her family, the better she would feel, in all honesty.

[sheminecrafts]

Instagram now lets you share Stories to a Close Friends list

No one wants to post silly, racy, or vulnerable Stories if they’re worried their boss, parents, and distant acquaintances are watching. So to get people sharing more, and more authentically, Instagram will let you share to fewer people. Today after 17 months of testing, Instagram is globally launching Close Friends on iOS and Android over the next two days. It lets you build a single private list of your best buddies on Instagram through suggestions or search, and then share Stories just to them. They’ll see a green circle around your profile pic in the existing Story tray to let them know this is Close Friends-only content, but no one gets notified if they’re added or removed from your list that only you can view.

“As you add more and more people [on any social network], you start not to know them. That’s obviously going to change the things that you’re sharing and it makes it even harder to form every deep connections with your closest friends because you’re basically curating for the largest possible distribution,” said Instagram director of product Robby Stein, who announced the news onstage at TechCrunch Disrupt Berlin. “To really be yourself and connect and be connected to your best friends, you need your own place.”

I spent the last few days demoing Close Friends and it’s remarkably smooth, intuitive, and useful. Suddenly there was a place to post what I might otherwise consider too random or embarrassing to share. Teens already invented the idea of “Finstagrams,” or fake Instagram accounts, to share feed posts to just their favorite people without the pressure to look cool. Now Instagram is formalizing that idea into “Finstastories” through Close Friends.

The feature is a wise way to counteract the natural social graph creep that occurs as people accept social networking requests out of a sense of obligatory courtesy from people they aren’t close to, which then causes them to only share blander content. Helping people express their wild side as must-see content for their Close Friends could drive up time spent on the app. But there’s also the risk that the launch creates private echo sphere havens for offensive content beyond the eyes of those who’d rightfully report it.

“No one has ever mastered a close friends graph and made it easy for people to understand” Stein notes. The path to variable sharing privacy winds through a cemetery. Facebook’s “Lists” product struggled to find traction for a decade before being half-shut down. Google+’s big selling point was “Circles” for sharing to different groups of people. But with both, user found it too boring and confusing to make a bunch of different lists they could share to or view feeds from. Snapchat launched its own Groups feature two months ago, but it’s easy to forget who’s in which list and they’re designed around group chat. Most users just end up trying their best to reject, unfollow, or mute people they didn’t want to see or share with.

Now after almost 15 years of Facebook, 12 years of Twitter, 8 years of Instagram, and 7 years of Snapchat, that strategy has failed for many, leading to noisy feeds and a fear of sharing to too many. “People get friend requests and they feel pressure to accept” Stein explains. “The curve is actually that your sharing goes up and as you add more people initially, as more people can respond to you. But then there’s a point where it reduces sharing over time.”

So Instagram chose to build Close Friends as just a single list in hopes that you won’t lose track of who’s part of it. As the feature rolls out today, there’ll be an explainer Story from Instagram about it in your tray, you’ll get walked through when you hit the Close Friends button on the Story composer, and there’ll be a call out on your profile to configure Close Friends in the settings menu. You’ll be able to search for your close friends or quickly add them from a list of suggestions based on who you interact with most. You can add or remove as many people as you want without them knowing, they just will or won’t see your green circled Close Friends story. “We’re protecting you and your right to share or not share to certain people. It gives you air cover” Stein tells me

From then on, you can use the Close Friends shortcut in the Stories composer to share it with just those people, who’ll see a green “Close Friends” label on the story to let them know they’re special. Instagram will use the signal of who you add to help rank and order your Stories tray, but it won’t automatically pop Close Friends Stories to the front. When asked if Facebook would use that data for personalization too, Stein told me “We’re the same company” but said using it to improve Facebook is “not something that we’re actively working on.”

Robby Stein (Instagram) debuts a new feature called Close Friends that allows users to share Stories with a small group of friends #TCDisrupt pic.twitter.com/ontdA7CQU0

— TechCrunch (@TechCrunch) November 30, 2018

There’s no screenshot alerts, similar to the rest of Instagram Stories, but you won’t be able to DM anyone someone else’s Close Friends Story. That’s it. “We haven’t invented any new design affordances or things you need to know” Stein beams. For now it’s meant for user profiles, but publishers, social media celebrities, and brands would probably love ways to build fan clubs through the feature. Perhaps Instagram would even allow creators to charge users to be admitted to Close Friends. If not, some savvy influencers will probably do it anyways as they try to make Instagram more like Patreon.

Instagram’s Robby Stein (left) tells TechCrunch’s Josh Constine about Close Friends at Disrupt Berlin

The one concern here is that Close Friends could create little bunkers in which people can share objectionable content without consequence. It’d be sad to see it harbor racism, sexism, or other stuff that doesn’t belong anywhere on Instagram. Stein says that because you’re talking with friends instead of strangers on a Reddit, “it self regulates what it’s used for. We haven’t seen a lot of that usage in the testing that we’ve done. It’s still a broadcast channel and it doesn’t generate this group discussion. It doesn’t spiral.”

Overall, I think Close Friends will be a hit. When it started testing a prototype called Favorites in June 2017 it worked with feed posts too, but Instagram decided the off the cuff posts wouldn’t fit right next to your more widely broadcasted highlights. But confined to Stories, it feels like a natural and much-needed extension of what Instagram was always supposed to be but that’s gotten lost in our swelling social networks: giving the people you love a window into your life.

from iraidajzsmmwtv https://ift.tt/2zwRWiZ via IFTTT

[theinvinciblenoob]

No one wants to post silly, racy, or vulnerable Stories if they’re worried their boss, parents, and distant acquaintances are watching. So to get people sharing more, and more authentically, Instagram will let you share to fewer people. Today after 17 months of testing, Instagram is globally launching Close Friends on iOS and Android over the next two days. It lets you build a single private list of your best buddies on Instagram through suggestions or search, and then share Stories just to them. They’ll see a green circle around your profile pic in the existing Story tray to let them know this is Close Friends-only content, but no one gets notified if they’re added or removed from your list that only you can view.

“As you add more and more people [on any social network], you start not to know them. That’s obviously going to change the things that you’re sharing and it makes it even harder to form every deep connections with your closest friends because you’re basically curating for the largest possible distribution,” said Instagram director of product Robby Stein, who announced the news onstage at TechCrunch Disrupt Berlin. “To really be yourself and connect and be connected to your best friends, you need your own place.”

I spent the last few days demoing Close Friends and it’s remarkably smooth, intuitive, and useful. Suddenly there was a place to post what I might otherwise consider too random or embarrassing to share. Teens already invented the idea of “Finstagrams,” or fake Instagram accounts, to share feed posts to just their favorite people without the pressure to look cool. Now Instagram is formalizing that idea into “Finstastories” through Close Friends.

The feature is a wise way to counteract the natural social graph creep that occurs as people accept social networking requests out of a sense of obligatory courtesy from people they aren’t close to, which then causes them to only share blander content. Helping people express their wild side as must-see content for their Close Friends could drive up time spent on the app. But there’s also the risk that the launch creates private echo sphere havens for offensive content beyond the eyes of those who’d rightfully report it.

“No one has ever mastered a close friends graph and made it easy for people to understand” Stein notes. The path to variable sharing privacy winds through a cemetery. Facebook’s “Lists” product struggled to find traction for a decade before being half-shut down. Google+’s big selling point was “Circles” for sharing to different groups of people. But with both, user found it too boring and confusing to make a bunch of different lists they could share to or view feeds from. Snapchat launched its own Groups feature two months ago, but it’s easy to forget who’s in which list and they’re designed around group chat. Most users just end up trying their best to reject, unfollow, or mute people they didn’t want to see or share with.

Now after almost 15 years of Facebook, 12 years of Twitter, 8 years of Instagram, and 7 years of Snapchat, that strategy has failed for many, leading to noisy feeds and a fear of sharing to too many. “People get friend requests and they feel pressure to accept” Stein explains. “The curve is actually that your sharing goes up and as you add more people initially, as more people can respond to you. But then there’s a point where it reduces sharing over time.”

So Instagram chose to build Close Friends as just a single list in hopes that you won’t lose track of who’s part of it. As the feature rolls out today, there’ll be an explainer Story from Instagram about it in your tray, you’ll get walked through when you hit the Close Friends button on the Story composer, and there’ll be a call out on your profile to configure Close Friends in the settings menu. You’ll be able to search for your close friends or quickly add them from a list of suggestions based on who you interact with most. You can add or remove as many people as you want without them knowing, they just will or won’t see your green circled Close Friends story. “We’re protecting you and your right to share or not share to certain people. It gives you air cover” Stein tells me

From then on, you can use the Close Friends shortcut in the Stories composer to share it with just those people, who’ll see a green “Close Friends” label on the story to let them know they’re special. Instagram will use the signal of who you add to help rank and order your Stories tray, but it won’t automatically pop Close Friends Stories to the front. When asked if Facebook would use that data for personalization too, Stein told me “We’re the same company” but said using it to improve Facebook is “not something that we’re actively working on.”

There’s no screenshot alerts, similar to the rest of Instagram Stories, but you won’t be able to DM anyone someone else’s Close Friends Story. That’s it. “We haven’t invented any new design affordances or things you need to know” Stein beams. For now it’s meant for user profiles, but publishers, social media celebrities, and brands would probably love ways to build fan clubs through the feature. Perhaps Instagram would even allow creators to charge users to be admitted to Close Friends. If not, some savvy influencers will probably do it anyways as they try to make Instagram more like Patreon.

Instagram’s Robby Stein (left) tells TechCrunch’s Josh Constine about Close Friends at Disrupt Berlin

The one concern here is that Close Friends could create little bunkers in which people can share objectionable content without consequence. It’d be sad to see it harbor racism, sexism, or other stuff that doesn’t belong anywhere on Instagram. Stein says that because you’re talking with friends instead of strangers on a Reddit, “it self regulates what it’s used for. We haven’t seen a lot of that usage in the testing that we’ve done. It’s still a broadcast channel and it doesn’t generate this group discussion. It doesn’t spiral.”

Overall, I think Close Friends will be a hit. When it started testing a prototype called Favorites in June 2017 it worked with feed posts too, but Instagram decided the off the cuff posts wouldn’t fit right next to your more widely broadcasted highlights. But confined to Stories, it feels like a natural and much-needed extension of what Instagram was always supposed to be but that’s gotten lost in our swelling social networks: giving the people you love a window into your life.

Robby Stein (Instagram) debuts a new feature called Close Friends that allows users to share Stories with a small group of friends #TCDisrupt pic.twitter.com/ontdA7CQU0

— TechCrunch (@TechCrunch) November 30, 2018

via TechCrunch

[technicalsolutions88]

No one wants to post silly, racy, or vulnerable Stories if they’re worried their boss, parents, and distant acquaintances are watching. So to get people sharing more, and more authentically, Instagram will let you share to fewer people. Today after 17 months of testing, Instagram is globally launching Close Friends on iOS and Android over the next two days. It lets you build a single private list of your best buddies on Instagram through suggestions or search, and then share Stories just to them. They’ll see a green circle around your profile pic in the existing Story tray to let them know this is Close Friends-only content, but no one gets notified if they’re added or removed from your list that only you can view.

“As you add more and more people [on any social network], you start not to know them. That’s obviously going to change the things that you’re sharing and it makes it even harder to form every deep connections with your closest friends because you’re basically curating for the largest possible distribution,” said Instagram director of product Robby Stein, who announced the news onstage at TechCrunch Disrupt Berlin. “To really be yourself and connect and be connected to your best friends, you need your own place.”

I spent the last few days demoing Close Friends and it’s remarkably smooth, intuitive, and useful. Suddenly there was a place to post what I might otherwise consider too random or embarrassing to share. Teens already invented the idea of “Finstagrams,” or fake Instagram accounts, to share feed posts to just their favorite people without the pressure to look cool. Now Instagram is formalizing that idea into “Finstastories” through Close Friends.

The feature is a wise way to counteract the natural social graph creep that occurs as people accept social networking requests out of a sense of obligatory courtesy from people they aren’t close to, which then causes them to only share blander content. Helping people express their wild side as must-see content for their Close Friends could drive up time spent on the app. But there’s also the risk that the launch creates private echo sphere havens for offensive content beyond the eyes of those who’d rightfully report it.

“No one has ever mastered a close friends graph and made it easy for people to understand” Stein notes. The path to variable sharing privacy winds through a cemetery. Facebook’s “Lists” product struggled to find traction for a decade before being half-shut down. Google+’s big selling point was “Circles” for sharing to different groups of people. But with both, user found it too boring and confusing to make a bunch of different lists they could share to or view feeds from. Snapchat launched its own Groups feature two months ago, but it’s easy to forget who’s in which list and they’re designed around group chat. Most users just end up trying their best to reject, unfollow, or mute people they didn’t want to see or share with.

Now after almost 15 years of Facebook, 12 years of Twitter, 8 years of Instagram, and 7 years of Snapchat, that strategy has failed for many, leading to noisy feeds and a fear of sharing to too many. “People get friend requests and they feel pressure to accept” Stein explains. “The curve is actually that your sharing goes up and as you add more people initially, as more people can respond to you. But then there’s a point where it reduces sharing over time.”

So Instagram chose to build Close Friends as just a single list in hopes that you won’t lose track of who’s part of it. As the feature rolls out today, there’ll be an explainer Story from Instagram about it in your tray, you’ll get walked through when you hit the Close Friends button on the Story composer, and there’ll be a call out on your profile to configure Close Friends in the settings menu. You’ll be able to search for your close friends or quickly add them from a list of suggestions based on who you interact with most. You can add or remove as many people as you want without them knowing, they just will or won’t see your green circled Close Friends story. “We’re protecting you and your right to share or not share to certain people. It gives you air cover” Stein tells me

From then on, you can use the Close Friends shortcut in the Stories composer to share it with just those people, who’ll see a green “Close Friends” label on the story to let them know they’re special. Instagram will use the signal of who you add to help rank and order your Stories tray, but it won’t automatically pop Close Friends Stories to the front. When asked if Facebook would use that data for personalization too, Stein told me “We’re the same company” but said using it to improve Facebook is “not something that we’re actively working on.”

There’s no screenshot alerts, similar to the rest of Instagram Stories, but you won’t be able to DM anyone someone else’s Close Friends Story. That’s it. “We haven’t invented any new design affordances or things you need to know” Stein beams. For now it’s meant for user profiles, but publishers, social media celebrities, and brands would probably love ways to build fan clubs through the feature. Perhaps Instagram would even allow creators to charge users to be admitted to Close Friends. If not, some savvy influencers will probably do it anyways.

Instagram’s Robby Stein (left) tells TechCrunch’s Josh Constine about Close Friends at Disrupt Berlin

The one concern here is that Close Friends could create little bunkers in which people can share objectionable content without consequence. It’d be sad to see it harbor racism, sexism, or other stuff that doesn’t belong anywhere on Instagram. Stein says that because you’re talking with friends instead of strangers on a Reddit, “it self regulates what it’s used for. We haven’t seen a lot of that usage in the testing that we’ve done. It’s still a broadcast channel and it doesn’t generate this group discussion. It doesn’t spiral.”

Overall, I think Close Friends will be a hit. When it started testing a prototype called Favorites in June 2017 it worked with feed posts too, but Instagram decided the off the cuff posts wouldn’t fit right next to your more widely broadcasted highlights. But confined to Stories, it feels like a natural and much-needed extension of what Instagram was always supposed to be but that’s gotten lost in our swelling social networks: giving the people you love a window into your life.

from Social – TechCrunch https://ift.tt/2zwRWiZ Original Content From: https://techcrunch.com

[sheminecrafts]

Instagram now lets you share Stories to a Close Friends list

No one wants to post silly, racy, or vulnerable Stories if they’re worried their boss, parents, and distant acquaintances are watching. So to get people sharing more, and more authentically, Instagram will let you share to fewer people. Today after 17 months of testing, Instagram is globally launching Close Friends on iOS and Android over the next two days. It lets you build a single private list of your best buddies on Instagram through suggestions or search, and then share Stories just to them. They’ll see a green circle around your profile pic in the existing Story tray to let them know this is Close Friends-only content, but no one gets notified if they’re added or removed from your list that only you can view.

“As you add more and more people [on any social network], you start not to know them. That’s obviously going to change the things that you’re sharing and it makes it even harder to form every deep connections with your closest friends because you’re basically curating for the largest possible distribution,” said Instagram director of product Robby Stein, who announced the news onstage at TechCrunch Disrupt Berlin. “To really be yourself and connect and be connected to your best friends, you need your own place.”

I spent the last few days demoing Close Friends and it’s remarkably smooth, intuitive, and useful. Suddenly there was a place to post what I might otherwise consider too random or embarrassing to share. Teens already invented the idea of “Finstagrams,” or fake Instagram accounts, to share feed posts to just their favorite people without the pressure to look cool. Now Instagram is formalizing that idea into “Finstastories” through Close Friends.

The feature is a wise way to counteract the natural social graph creep that occurs as people accept social networking requests out of a sense of obligatory courtesy from people they aren’t close to, which then causes them to only share blander content. Helping people express their wild side as must-see content for their Close Friends could drive up time spent on the app. But there’s also the risk that the launch creates private echo sphere havens for offensive content beyond the eyes of those who’d rightfully report it.

“No one has ever mastered a close friends graph and made it easy for people to understand” Stein notes. The path to variable sharing privacy winds through a cemetery. Facebook’s “Lists” product struggled to find traction for a decade before being half-shut down. Google+’s big selling point was “Circles” for sharing to different groups of people. But with both, user found it too boring and confusing to make a bunch of different lists they could share to or view feeds from. Snapchat launched its own Groups feature two months ago, but it’s easy to forget who’s in which list and they’re designed around group chat. Most users just end up trying their best to reject, unfollow, or mute people they didn’t want to see or share with.

Now after almost 15 years of Facebook, 12 years of Twitter, 8 years of Instagram, and 7 years of Snapchat, that strategy has failed for many, leading to noisy feeds and a fear of sharing to too many. “People get friend requests and they feel pressure to accept” Stein explains. “The curve is actually that your sharing goes up and as you add more people initially, as more people can respond to you. But then there’s a point where it reduces sharing over time.”

So Instagram chose to build Close Friends as just a single list in hopes that you won’t lose track of who’s part of it. As the feature rolls out today, there’ll be an explainer Story from Instagram about it in your tray, you’ll get walked through when you hit the Close Friends button on the Story composer, and there’ll be a call out on your profile to configure Close Friends in the settings menu. You’ll be able to search for your close friends or quickly add them from a list of suggestions based on who you interact with most. You can add or remove as many people as you want without them knowing, they just will or won’t see your green circled Close Friends story. “We’re protecting you and your right to share or not share to certain people. It gives you air cover” Stein tells me

From then on, you can use the Close Friends shortcut in the Stories composer to share it with just those people, who’ll see a green “Close Friends” label on the story to let them know they’re special. Instagram will use the signal of who you add to help rank and order your Stories tray, but it won’t automatically pop Close Friends Stories to the front. When asked if Facebook would use that data for personalization too, Stein told me “We’re the same company” but said using it to improve Facebook is “not something that we’re actively working on.”

Robby Stein (Instagram) debuts a new feature called Close Friends that allows users to share Stories with a small group of friends #TCDisrupt pic.twitter.com/ontdA7CQU0

— TechCrunch (@TechCrunch) November 30, 2018

There’s no screenshot alerts, similar to the rest of Instagram Stories, but you won’t be able to DM anyone someone else’s Close Friends Story. That’s it. “We haven’t invented any new design affordances or things you need to know” Stein beams. For now it’s meant for user profiles, but publishers, social media celebrities, and brands would probably love ways to build fan clubs through the feature. Perhaps Instagram would even allow creators to charge users to be admitted to Close Friends. If not, some savvy influencers will probably do it anyways as they try to make Instagram more like Patreon.

Instagram’s Robby Stein (left) tells TechCrunch’s Josh Constine about Close Friends at Disrupt Berlin

The one concern here is that Close Friends could create little bunkers in which people can share objectionable content without consequence. It’d be sad to see it harbor racism, sexism, or other stuff that doesn’t belong anywhere on Instagram. Stein says that because you’re talking with friends instead of strangers on a Reddit, “it self regulates what it’s used for. We haven’t seen a lot of that usage in the testing that we’ve done. It’s still a broadcast channel and it doesn’t generate this group discussion. It doesn’t spiral.”

Overall, I think Close Friends will be a hit. When it started testing a prototype called Favorites in June 2017 it worked with feed posts too, but Instagram decided the off the cuff posts wouldn’t fit right next to your more widely broadcasted highlights. But confined to Stories, it feels like a natural and much-needed extension of what Instagram was always supposed to be but that’s gotten lost in our swelling social networks: giving the people you love a window into your life.

from iraidajzsmmwtv https://ift.tt/2zwRWiZ via IFTTT

[technicalsolutions88]

No one wants to post silly, racy, or vulnerable Stories if they’re worried their boss, parents, and distant acquaintances are watching. So to get people sharing more, and more authentically, Instagram will let you share to fewer people. Today after 17 months of testing, Instagram is globally launching Close Friends on iOS and Android over the next two days. It lets you build a single private list of your best buddies on Instagram through suggestions or search, and then share Stories just to them. They’ll see a green circle around your profile pic in the existing Story tray to let them know this is Close Friends-only content, but no one gets notified if they’re added or removed from your list that only you can view.

“As you add more and more people [on any social network], you start not to know them. That’s obviously going to change the things that you’re sharing and it makes it even harder to form every deep connections with your closest friends because you’re basically curating for the largest possible distribution,” said Instagram director of product Robby Stein, who announced the news onstage at TechCrunch Disrupt Berlin. “To really be yourself and connect and be connected to your best friends, you need your own place.”

I spent the last few days demoing Close Friends and it’s remarkably smooth, intuitive, and useful. Suddenly there was a place to post what I might otherwise consider too random or embarrassing to share. Teens already invented the idea of “Finstagrams,” or fake Instagram accounts, to share feed posts to just their favorite people without the pressure to look cool. Now Instagram is formalizing that idea into “Finstastories” through Close Friends.

The feature is a wise way to counteract the natural social graph creep that occurs as people accept social networking requests out of a sense of obligatory courtesy from people they aren’t close to, which then causes them to only share blander content. Helping people express their wild side as must-see content for their Close Friends could drive up time spent on the app. But there’s also the risk that the launch creates private echo sphere havens for offensive content beyond the eyes of those who’d rightfully report it.

“No one has ever mastered a close friends graph and made it easy for people to understand” Stein notes. The path to variable sharing privacy winds through a cemetery. Facebook’s “Lists” product struggled to find traction for a decade before being half-shut down. Google+’s big selling point was “Circles” for sharing to different groups of people. But with both, user found it too boring and confusing to make a bunch of different lists they could share to or view feeds from. Snapchat launched its own Groups feature two months ago, but it’s easy to forget who’s in which list and they’re designed around group chat. Most users just end up trying their best to reject, unfollow, or mute people they didn’t want to see or share with.

Now after almost 15 years of Facebook, 12 years of Twitter, 8 years of Instagram, and 7 years of Snapchat, that strategy has failed for many, leading to noisy feeds and a fear of sharing to too many. “People get friend requests and they feel pressure to accept” Stein explains. “The curve is actually that your sharing goes up and as you add more people initially, as more people can respond to you. But then there’s a point where it reduces sharing over time.”

So Instagram chose to build Close Friends as just a single list in hopes that you won’t lose track of who’s part of it. As the feature rolls out today, there’ll be an explainer Story from Instagram about it in your tray, you’ll get walked through when you hit the Close Friends button on the Story composer, and there’ll be a call out on your profile to configure Close Friends in the settings menu. You’ll be able to search for your close friends or quickly add them from a list of suggestions based on who you interact with most. You can add or remove as many people as you want without them knowing, they just will or won’t see your green circled Close Friends story. “We’re protecting you and your right to share or not share to certain people. It gives you air cover” Stein tells me

From then on, you can use the Close Friends shortcut in the Stories composer to share it with just those people, who’ll see a green “Close Friends” label on the story to let them know they’re special. Instagram will use the signal of who you add to help rank and order your Stories tray, but it won’t automatically pop Close Friends Stories to the front. When asked if Facebook would use that data for personalization too, Stein told me “We’re the same company” but said using it to improve Facebook is “not something that we’re actively working on.”

There’s no screenshot alerts, similar to the rest of Instagram Stories, but you won’t be able to DM anyone someone else’s Close Friends Story. That’s it. “We haven’t invented any new design affordances or things you need to know” Stein beams. For now it’s meant for user profiles, but publishers, social media celebrities, and brands would probably love ways to build fan clubs through the feature. Perhaps Instagram would even allow creators to charge users to be admitted to Close Friends. If not, some savvy influencers will probably do it anyways as they try to make Instagram more like Patreon.

Instagram’s Robby Stein (left) tells TechCrunch’s Josh Constine about Close Friends at Disrupt Berlin

The one concern here is that Close Friends could create little bunkers in which people can share objectionable content without consequence. It’d be sad to see it harbor racism, sexism, or other stuff that doesn’t belong anywhere on Instagram. Stein says that because you’re talking with friends instead of strangers on a Reddit, “it self regulates what it’s used for. We haven’t seen a lot of that usage in the testing that we’ve done. It’s still a broadcast channel and it doesn’t generate this group discussion. It doesn’t spiral.”

Overall, I think Close Friends will be a hit. When it started testing a prototype called Favorites in June 2017 it worked with feed posts too, but Instagram decided the off the cuff posts wouldn’t fit right next to your more widely broadcasted highlights. But confined to Stories, it feels like a natural and much-needed extension of what Instagram was always supposed to be but that’s gotten lost in our swelling social networks: giving the people you love a window into your life.

Robby Stein (Instagram) debuts a new feature called Close Friends that allows users to share Stories with a small group of friends #TCDisrupt pic.twitter.com/ontdA7CQU0

— TechCrunch (@TechCrunch) November 30, 2018

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