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favvn · 4 months

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The Apple: The Cult of a Machine

An analysis of the Star Trek: TOS episode that examines how Vaal and Akuta are running a cult on the planet Gamma Trianguli VI and why Jim Kirk would interfere with the inhabitants' culture as a result.

This is long because I do not know brevity :) (4k words! Not counting the episode transcripts!) As a content warning, I do discuss religion and cults in very broad and synonymous terms. I realize this could be upsetting to some that I link the two together, so I am stating that upfront.

Some background information before I begin. First, I am aware of the criticism one can have towards this episode (i.e. Kirk falls into a white-savior trope, Kirk destroys an alien culture because it doesn't fit his human ideals, the Federation's desire to see societies advance is at odds with the idea of non-interference and they are colonizers at worst, etc. It goes on.), yet I am torn as to its merits. I feel like it is very easy for modern audiences to see the faults of this episode owing to changing perspectives and an increase in broader knowledge within the past 50 years and miss the forest for the trees as a result. In other words, I am baffled to browse the tags, read other analysis posts, and see no one mention the cult aspect. This post is my attempt to correct that gap.

As a refresher and something to contemplate before I dive in, the crux of the episode: the Gamma Triangulians have free will, yet they exist to serve a computer. Are they still free in this scenario? (Alternatively, is a prison no longer a prison if it has been chosen by its inmates?) Is Kirk helping the Gamma Triangulians by destroying Vaal, or is Kirk forcing his ideals on the inhabitants under the guise of freedom?

Akuta: Not Your Typical Leader

Akuta is not presented as your typical cult leader or leader in general. He has no weapons and nothing to show his position (jewelry, different clothing, or different tattoos, etc.) beyond the antennae at his ears. More importantly, he is shown first in a moment of vulnerability, crying after Kirk strikes him. Akuta is placed in a very innocent light as a native of the planet who has suffered from aggression, whereas Kirk is placed squarely as an aggressive interloper. This sets the tone for how the audience sees him versus Kirk, and, frankly, I'd argue it has worked given other critiques I have read that seemingly overlook any agency Akuta or the other inhabitants of Gamma Trianguli VI have.

It is also worth noting that Akuta does not try to hide or wipe his tears. He leaves them to mark his face. I point this out because big, emotional displays (especially rage or distress) can be used as a means to manipulate others. To cast oneself as a victim is a powerful tool of manipulation, one that cult leaders will use to control the emotional responses of their followers and their dependency on the cult. In other words, a cult leader will get obedience from a follower by claiming that the cult--and especially the leader themself--is persecuted by outsiders and that outsiders wish to destroy the leader and the cult. If a follower's obedience to the cult wavers, then they must not be a true believer but an outsider to be shunned and cast out into a cruel and wicked world. These assertions are wrapped into emotional appeals in order to create an emotional reaction rather than allow a rational, thought-out response. Even without the intent to manipulate, most people react more kindly and with more care to someone who is crying.

Akuta's initial language about his tribe is a tell right away. He calls them "the Feeders of Vaal" instead of "the Vaalians" or "the People of Vaal." Those phrases would highlight their existence as separate from their duty to Vaal and grant them more individuality and personhood. Instead, "feeders" is used by Akuta to introduce those he leads, a term that explicitly refers to their job. (If my point isn't clear, imagine introducing yourself occupation-first to strangers before ever giving your name. Feel dehumanized yet?)

Granted, Akuta will later refer to them as "people," so it's possible I am reading too much into word choice. However, it is telling that of all the ways to introduce those he is said to lead, Akuta's first choice of phrasing was "feeders." Word choice is the result of decisions unless one is to believe writers don't think about the tools of their craft. That being said, contrast this to how Kirk refers to them:

He heard the two phrases "Feeders of Vaal" and "People of Vaal" and went with the latter.

KIRK: They're not going to hurt you. I promise you. Akuta, Akuta, we come in peace. We would like to speak to this Vaal. AKUTA: Akuta alone speaks to Vaal. I am the eyes and the voice of Vaal. It is Vaal's wish. SPOCK: Captain, this is fascinating. If you will permit me, sir? (Akuta has metal wires sticking out behind from behind his ears.) KIRK: Antennae? AKUTA: They are my ears for Vaal. They were given to me in the Dim Time so the people could understand his commands and obey. KIRK: You speak of the People of Vaal. Are they nearby? AKUTA: We are close to Vaal so we may serve him. I shall take you there.

It is very important to note that Akuta speaks of a time before Vaal, "the Dim Time." This means the inhabitants could have had an entirely different culture before Vaal. The episode itself leaves their ages vague--they could be only decades or thousands of years old. Any past they may have had before Vaal could have been destroyed or forgotten with the passing of time and "replacements." It can be assumed that Akuta was the leader of the Gamma Triangulians before Vaal and that Vaal chose Akuta to be its eyes, ears, and mouth because the inhabitants already follow and trust Akuta.

Another note is the phrasing that Akuta uses for their relationship to Vaal. They need to "understand his commands and obey" and live close to Vaal "so we may serve him." Akuta himself holds his role because "it is Vaal's wish." Replace Vaal with God and capitalize Him and these could be sentences lifted from a copy of the Bible itself. Their relationship to Vaal is religious. Vaal is not a machine to them but a god worthy of a name and reverence.

It is important to note how Vaal acts as both the object of religious reverence and the leader of cultish obedience. At the risk of grossly summarizing a contentious issue within scholarly circles, those who study religion have long argued whether or not there is a line separating a cult from a religion or if the two words are merely synonyms for the same thing. When I say cult I do not refer to the esoteric worship of a deity within a pantheon (example: a cult of Dionysus; within Christianity there was a cult of Mary Worship), but the same cults that isolate followers from society in order to control their thoughts, their actions, their resources, and their skills for the leader's gain (example: Jonestown, Heaven's Gate, etc.) Both a cult and a religion have their own chosen people, those who know the truth compared to the nonbelievers and the outsiders. Both urge that outsiders and nonbelievers may persecute a believer for their faith. Both ask of their followers' time, resources, and skills. Dress codes, taboos for forbidden behavior/rules, and the like feature in both. Again, I am heavily summarizing an issue that is still debated in academic circles on the basis of my own memory, but the overlaps between a cult and a religion can not be overlooked, especially when discussing this episode. In my opinion, The Apple illustrates the similarities between cults and religions beautifully. (As an aside, it should go without saying why the linking of religions and cults as being the same thing is controversial. Anyone who follows a religion will hardly want their beliefs to be viewed as one in the same with the deadly manipulation of cults.)

AKUTA: These are the people of Vaal. (Everyone is grown up, with white hair and wearing a simple cotton sarong.) KIRK: Where are the others? AKUTA: There are no others. KIRK: The children. AKUTA: Children? You use unknown words to me. KIRK: Little ones like yourselves. They grow. AKUTA: Replacements. None are necessary. They are forbidden by Vaal. MARTHA: But when a man and woman fall in love, AKUTA: Love. Strange words. Children. Love. What is love? MARTHA: Love is when two people are (Chekov demonstrates by putting his arm around her waist.) AKUTA: Ah, yes. The holding, the touching. Vaal has forbidden this.

Akuta refers to "children" as "replacements," a term that distances the speaker from the relationship of an offspring to a parent and destroys the personhood of the inhabitants of Gamma Trianguli VI. In simpler terms, "replacement" is another dehumanizing word choice. Contrast this with Kirk's use of "little ones," which specifically links the offspring to the parent as a smaller version of themselves. Personhood is retained with this phrase. Kirk goes further and specifically says of the children that "they grow." After Bones conducts medical evaluations on the Gamma Triangulians, he declares them a stagnant group despite their long lifespans, ranging anywhere from their twenties to thousands of years old. They seemingly do not age or change from their exposure to their sun. They do not grow their food (from Akuta's words by the end of the episode, it is entirely possible that Vaal creates it as ripe and ready to eat), and it is possible they no longer create their homes, their tools, or their clothes (in other words, these things were made by the Gamma Triangulians but before Vaal, in the Dim Time. Now, with their lives so perfect not even the sun ages them, why should their homes need repairing or their bowls break?) What better way to stop a group from questioning their state of living than to deny them something that must change if it is to survive? To see a child grow every day would call their entire being into question. Vaal doesn't want self-awareness from its feeders. Vaal wants feeders who follow orders without question.

Another chilling tell for the cult is that Akuta does not understand the word "love." Love, of course, can take many forms according to the relationships it is found in (i.e. the love between a parent and child, the love between friends, the love between neighbors or coworkers, the love between a couple, etc.). Love does not necessitate sex or romance to be present in a relationship, but it does necessitate, at the very least, affection and care shared between two people. One hopes that the Gamma Triangulians hold some form of love for one another, but for their own leader to not know the word or offer a word of their own as its Gamma Triangulian counterpart is concerning.

Now, the episode links love to a strict romantic and sexual understanding owing to how it uses and subverts the Genesis creation story and, of course, the absence of children on Gamma Trianguli VI. It should go without saying that if sex is linked to reproduction, then sex is linked to children, so if love is linked to sex as this episode has it, break the first link and you have nothing else from the chain. This is supported by how Akuta goes so far as to call children "forbidden by Vaal" in addition to "the holding, the touching" of romantic and sexual relationships.

If something is forbidden by a society, there is a taboo attached to it, lest the society keeps engaging in what is forbidden and renders the distinction--and by extension, the rules governing the society--as useless. Usually, this involves some sort of punishment as enforcement in addition to the emotional response of doing wrong. Punishments can range from isolation from the group, imprisonment, or death. I will go into greater detail on this last point later. (For now, I need to dismantle a god.)

Vaal: An Unlikely God

Vaal is a stationary computer hidden in a serpent-shaped cave, not a god as the Gamma Triangulians believe. This appearance subverts what one expects from a cult leader as the computer could have been an android capable of walking, talking, and living among the Gamma Triangulians. An android would be in direct contact with the inhabitants without the need of someone like Akuta to aid it. A stationary computer, on the other hand, needs eyes, ears, a mouthpiece, and further aid to even have contact with the inhabitants. In other words, Vaal is beholden to Akuta's existence. Gods are supposed to be more powerful and more knowledgeable than those who worship them. Otherwise, there's nothing remarkable about them. This is why religion operates on a distinction between that which is sacred (the god, Vaal in this instance) and that which is profane (the Gamma Triangulians). Vaal, despite its ability to control the elements and grow food, is limited in its basic existence. Without Akuta, Vaal becomes an isolated computer within a cave that could be forgotten and ignored until its power supply dies.

Another sign that Vaal is an unusual god is that it requires food to keep living. Ritual offerings of food, animal or human sacrifice, and the like occur in religion, so the act of the Gamma Triangulians offering Vaal food as part of a feeding ritual isn't unusual in it of itself. It matches an established cultural practice. What is strange is that Vaal uses the food to stay alive much like any other biological being would, so the ritual is not an action of reverence but a necessity that has been made sacred. While it is hard to see in the episode, the inhabitants are shown offering rocks and stones as food for Vaal. These are objects that they could use themselves as materials for tools or buildings. Instead, they are given to sustain a god.

Vaal is beholden to reciprocity to keep living just as much as the Gamma Triangulians are, which acts as a way to ensure both Vaal and the inhabitants of Gamma Trianguli VI keep each other alive. It is a risk for Vaal should the inhabitants choose to stop the feeding ritual, but as it is revealed, Vaal ensures their perfect paradise. Their weather is stable, the sun does not burn them, and they are always fed without having to work for it. Fear and other strong emotions can be a good way for a cult leader to ensure control, but to ensure a perfect environment and steady food supply in tandem with the threat of fear is even better. ("Bread and circuses" is another way to phrase it. So long as people are fed, distracted, and happy, their freedoms can be chipped away in plain sight.) In other words, the Gamma Triangulians would have to give up paradise itself if they were to starve Vaal to death, not that Akuta would allow it.

But how can a computer that needs food to live still control the elements and plant life itself? How can such a thing even punish or harm other beings? Simple, like any other cult leader, Vaal has other aids beyond Akuta lest Akuta takes control for himself.

This is only a selection of the various v-shaped pieces of metal seen throughout Gamma Trianguli VI, but it is important to bring attention to them. They look like the fangs of a serpent, matching the serpent-shaped cave of Vaal, so it makes sense to assume these are extensions of Vaal scattered throughout the planet. The episode itself does not mention them beyond the scene where Akuta instructs the men to kill the strangers. However, if these objects act as antennae or, better yet, amplifiers, then these objects are the key to Vaal's powers over food, the weather, and especially the localized lightning strikes used on both invaders and those who do not follow Vaal's laws.

Therefore, death is the form of punishment for those who break Vaal's laws. This is how replacements are needed, how their culture is stagnant. Anyone who would challenge Vaal has simply been killed, although perhaps not right away. Vaal may warn them at first with the thunder, only for later transgressions to lead to their deaths. (This is further supported by the force field that protects Vaal from those who get too close without Vaal's permission.)

It is important to also note that these metal objects are the only instances of metal on the planet. It is possible for the inhabitants of Gamma Trianguli VI to have metal tools and metalwork, but Vaal seemingly does not allow them to have it.

It should go without saying, but the presence of metalwork denotes a more complex state of development for a society. Metal tools enable further technological developments and retain more longevity and strength than most plant-based materials. If Bones is correct that the Gamma Triangulians are thousands of years old, that's a long time to stay in such limited conditions despite the presence of technology that operates beyond their comprehension (Vaal, the computer). This is not to say the Gamma Triangulians are stupid, but they are being kept in the dark by an entity with more knowledge and power than they have. Cults operate on that ignorance and power imbalance.

The Cult in Action

The episode is kind enough to show how the cult operates in real time, how the Gamma Triangulians react to new knowledge, and how change is rejected by Vaal or if it is allowed.

When Makora and Sayana see see Chekov and Martha kissing, they are initially confused. It does not cause pain or anger, yet the act of kissing seemingly does nothing the two Gamma Triangulians can understand in their limited knowledge of love and relationships. Makora asks if anything can be gained from such an action and notes how it does not help gather food or serve Vaal. Their lives are strictly measured by their usefulness to Vaal. Love, kissing, and sex do not help Vaal, so these things are unknown and not permitted.

Makora and Sayana decide to try kissing anyways, their curiosity getting the better of their apprehension. Vaal manages to see this even before Akuta comes to correct them, letting out a warning of thunder as the couple embraces again. Akuta then reminds them of the law and asks, "Do you beg the lightning to strike?" Remember Kaplan? He didn't take cover fast enough during the first storm and was struck by Vaal's lightning, reduced instantaneously to a smoking pile of ash. This is the fate that awaits Makora and Sayana for embracing and kissing one another.

AKUTA: Vaal has spoken to me. His words are true. Hear them. We are to kill the strangers. MAKORA: Kill, Akuta? We do not understand. AKUTA: It is a thing to do, like, like feeding Vaal. Vaal explained it to me. I will show you. This (the melon) is the head of one of the strangers. Find a heavy stick. Come up from behind the stranger and do this. (He swings his stick and smashes the melon to pieces.) AKUTA: It is a simple thing. It is the word of Vaal. It will be done to all of them when the sun returns in the morning.

When Akuta gathers the men to instruct them to kill the strangers, Makora is confused. They have no concept of killing, which makes sense if they are dependent on Vaal for everything from their food to their longevity. There is no danger in their lives beyond disobeying Vaal. What is telling is that this new knowledge first comes from Vaal, delivered by Akuta. Akuta links the act of killing to the feeding ritual, something the Gamma Triangulians will understand. Yet to kill and to feed are not synonymous actions. One takes life, and the other supports life. Akuta links them together because, just as feeding Vaal is their duty, so is killing if Vaal wills it.

This is how the feeding ritual would have begun. Vaal would have told it to Akuta, who would have linked it to another ritual the Gamma Triangulians would have done. This way, the chain of leadership remains unchallenged and unbroken. The new behavior has a link to a current behavior, comes from their leader Akuta, comes from Vaal their god.

In what is the biggest tell of a cult, the Gamma Triangulians follow their orders to kill despite earlier questions and hesitations. They are like the civilians of Summerisle from The Wicker Man 1973, seemingly odd in their beliefs at first, only to gleefully participate in a ritualistic murder when told to do so. In a cult, anyone can be made to do the unconscionable. An individual's own ethics and morality fail to matter in the face of what the cult demands.

The Apple: Genesis Subverted

SPOCK: Captain, you are aware of the biblical story of Genesis. KIRK: Yes, of course I'm aware of it. Adam and Eve tasted the apple and, as a result, were driven out of paradise. SPOCK: Precisely, Captain, and in a manner of speaking, we have given the people of Vaal the apple, the knowledge of good and evil if you will, as a result of which they too have been driven out of paradise.

I mentioned it briefly earlier, but it is important to note at this time how The Apple recalls the Genesis creation story and turns it on its head. As a brief refresher, Adam and Eve live in the paradise of Eden. They want for nothing and desire nothing. They are perfectly cared for and perfectly content. The one thing they are told not to do is to eat from the Tree of Knowledge. Adam and Eve are tempted by the serpent to eat the Fruit of Knowledge (most commonly translated to be an apple), and they gain the knowledge of good and evil, the shame of wrongdoing, and self-awareness. God casts them out of Eden for disobeying, and the two are to live out a hard life of pain with a decreased lifespan. (I know my summary is not your typical Bible school lesson owing to my phrasing, bear with me. It's my summary and I am choosing my words for a reason.)

In The Apple, the inhabitants of Gamma Trianguli VI live in paradise. The sun does not burn them or age them. They do not have to struggle to grow food or hunt. Their needs are perfectly met by their god Vaal. All they must do in return is to perform the feeding ritual for Vaal and uphold Vaal's laws, meaning they are forbidden to kiss or have sex or have children. This is where Gamma Trianguli VI's similarities with Genesis.

Unlike the Genesis creation story, the god Vaal is hidden in a serpent-shaped cave and is actually a computer. The deity is linked to the deceiver, the symbol for Satan in the Genesis myth, the serpent. This serpent does not tempt the inhabitants of paradise with forbidden knowledge. Instead, Vaal keeps the Gamma Triangulians ignorant. Apples and other such fruit are not off-limits, nor do they enable one to gain forbidden knowledge. Therefore, when Kirk eats an apple during the crews' round table sex discussion, nothing new is gained. (The landing party already knows what sex is as it is not forbidden to them. The mystery is how humanoid beings are to reproduce without sex.) The landing party does, however, share their knowledge and encourage the Gamma Triangulians' curiosity either directly by openly questioning their culture as Kirk does when he asks about children, or indirectly as Chekov and Martha do when they are inadvertently seen kissing. This is why Spock later refers to Kirk as being Satan for tempting the Gamma Triangulians and leading them out of a comfortable paradise by destroying their god. (The reference is ruined, in my opinion, by Spock's pointed ears being made into a punchline joke about him appearing more like Satan than Kirk.)

So, why does our protagonist, Jim Kirk, interfere with an alien culture at the risk of destroying their culture, disobeying Starfleet Command, and ignoring the Prime Directive? For two reasons: The Dim Time and Tarsus IV.

1. "The Dim Time" Akuta's own words to describe the time before Vaal. Vaal may be everything to the Gamma Triangulians when Kirk and the crew arrive, but Vaal was not originally a part of their lives or culture in the beginning. If there was a time before Vaal, there could be a time after Vaal. If my previous posts about Jim Kirk do not make it clear enough, the man might take risks in doing his job and especially in protecting others, but they are always calculated risks. (The only thing Kirk does not care about is his own life.) Much like taking the risk of accelerating the war between Eminiar VII and Vendikar in order to force peace talks out of sheer terror, Kirk took stock of the situation and realized nothing would change unless an outsider did the drastic decision. (As one can assume, the refusal to arrive to one's appointed death on Eminiar VII might result in armed guards bringing the dissenter against their will to the disintegration chambers. However, the strong sense of duty that compels the people of Eminiar VII to follow the tradition of assigned deaths in their computerized war might make the use of force unnecessary.)

MEA: Don't you understand? Our duty KIRK: Your duty doesn't include stepping into a disintegrator and disappearing. MEA: I'm afraid mine does, Captain. I, too, have been declared a casualty. I must report to a disintegrator by noon tomorrow. KIRK: Is that all it means to you? To report and die? MEA: My life is as dear to me as yours is to you, Captain. KIRK: Then how can you stand MEA: Don't you see? If I refuse to report and others refuse, then Vendikar would have no choice but to launch real weapons. We would have to do the same to defend ourselves. More than people would die then. A whole civilization would be destroyed. Surely you can see that ours is a better way. KIRK: No, I don't see that at all. MEA: It's been our way for almost five hundred years. (A Taste of Armageddon)

2. Tarsus IV.

KARIDIAN: (reading) The revolution is successful, but survival depends on drastic measures. Your continued existence represents a threat to the well-being of society. (stops looking at the paper) Your lives mean slow death to the more valued members of the colony. Therefore, I have no alternative but to sentence you to death. Your execution is so ordered. Signed, Kodos, governor of Tarsus Four. KIRK: I remember the words. I wrote them down. (The Conscience of the King)

As the survivor of a famine, a revolution, and a massacre that he was selected to die in, of course Jim Kirk would immediately balk at the idea of humanoid beings living their lives in service to a machine and taking the machine's orders. If Kirk were one to follow orders and do as he is told, he would quite literally be dead.

Owing to Kirk's experiences and the ambition that seems to drive him forward, to prove that he survived for a reason, he values work and the striving towards a better future (ironic, perhaps, if one recalls Karidian's words before reading the death summons.) Thus, he does not see the loss of paradise as a thing to avoid or to mourn. For Kirk, work makes humankind what it is. Work speaks to the hope of another day (otherwise, why build, why create if there is no hope for a tomorrow?). To live in perfect contentment is not a life at all if every day stretches forward without any challenge or change, if one is to only follow orders and nothing else. Stagnation is the opposite of life.

MCCOY: Well, that's the second time man's been thrown out of paradise. KIRK: No, no, Bones. This time we walked out on our own. Maybe we weren't meant for paradise. Maybe we were meant to fight our way through. Struggle, claw our way up, scratch for every inch of the way. Maybe we can't stroll to the music of the lute. We must march to the sound of drums. (This Side of Paradise)

This is why, even when Akuta asks how the Gamma Triangulians are to live without Vaal, Kirk replies like so:

AKUTA: But it was Vaal who put the fruit on the trees, caused the rain to fall. Vaal cared for us. KIRK: You'll learn to care for yourselves, with our help. And there's no trick to putting fruit on trees. You might enjoy it. You'll learn to build for yourselves, think for yourselves, work for yourselves, and what you create is yours. That's what we call freedom. You'll like it, a lot. And you'll learn something about men and women, the way they're supposed to be. Caring for each other, being happy with each other, being good to each other. That's what we call love. You'll like that, too, a lot. You and your children.

Remember, Kirk was supposed to die on Tarsus IV. Star Trek TOS never reveals exactly what he did to escape Kodos and survive with the eight others until Starfleet came with aid. We can assume he and the others left the boundaries of the colony and took their chances--together--in the wilderness of Tarsus IV. I want to stress that last point: Kirk survived by the help of others and aided their survival in return. Hence, his words to the Gamma Triangulians, "You'll learn to build for yourselves, think for yourselves, work for yourselves, and what you create is yours. That's what we call freedom [...] And you'll learn something about men and women, the way they're supposed to be. Caring for each other, being happy with each other, being good to each other. That's what we call love." Kirk envisions a community living for their own selves, not for the whims of a despotic leader, regardless of if that leader is another human being or a machine disguising itself as a god.

#star trek tos #the apple #jim kirk #tarsus iv #trek meta #this side of paradise #the conscience of the king #a taste of armageddon #this is quite possibly the magnum opus of my meta posts #also if anyone wants to understand my insanity.... i typed this up. on my phone. HELL to do so.#also anyone wanna guess what i have a degree in 🤭 this post is one big tell #i am sorry that the ending of this is all text. 28 images out of a 30 image limit 😵‍#anyways my most heartfelt thanks to anyone who reads this long meta post in full 💛

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teaveetamer · 2 years

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The Ask Answerathon

Long post, but I'm just gonna bang out like 90% of these anons in one go because the thought of making 20 additional separate posts about this issue is, frankly, exhausting.

I always hate the argument that "Edelgard critics just hate 3H", ugh. I won't say its my favorite game in the series (not by a long shot) but I didn't develop a disdain for it until the fandom decided to act like this. And even then, I don't like Edelgard much but there are absolutely parts of 3H that I do enjoy, even if my opinion on the game started out kind of mediocre and it was all downhill from there.

I assume this is referring to the post I made about how liking characters who do bad things in games is not indicative of who you are as a person.

I mean, I don't particularly like her for her actions either, not to mention the sexist writing surrounding her that I've already discussed elsewhere. But her personality isn't particularly endearing to me either (I like the occasional "cold girl who melts for you" type of character, I just don't think it was done well here) and her stans didn't help. But I would never imply people who just happen to like Edelgard support stuff like genocide or imperialism... the problem is the people who claim liking Edelgard is this super moral awesome thing to do while also openly defending imperialism and genocide.

I still haven't played Live A Live!!!! I've been meaning to get to it, but honestly? I'm kind of feeling a nostalgia trip coming on so I might just go play My Sims after I'm done answering these asks, lol.

I will take your word for it since I am not familiar enough with whatever you're referencing to argue for or against it.

"That didn’t happen.

And if it did, it wasn’t that bad.

And if it was, that’s not a big deal. (That guy is Here)

And if it is, that’s not my fault.

And if it was, I didn’t mean it.

And if I did, you deserved it" (Though they occasionally dip into this one)

FORREAL. Like I won't claim Nilsh was flawless. I didn't follow him in part because I was kind of sick of the discourse when he really got going and because I didn't see much point in constantly responding to takes you don't agree with (which is what he did for a while). However, I think what has transpired after Nilsh's departure has just made it abundantly clear that their problem wasn't possibly someone coming into their space and interrupting their fun by disputing them. It was literally anyone disagreeing with them anywhere at all about literally anything. Even if you think Nilsh, or even BWIIDT (because they read Cap's fanfic) were ever out of line for what they did, that doesn't explain coming after the multitude of creators on this platform who have literally never done anything to you. And the response was far disproportionate to the actions done to them. It's like responding to a light slap by beating someone and their entire family and group of friends until they're all on life support in the hospital.

(I've been informed that referring to someone as a "Kevin" is a German thing. I personally associate it with that semi-infamous Reddit thread from a high school teacher)

Anyway I won't speculate on his mental state. I think the way he's been responding is incredibly troubling and indicative that he might need to step away from online discourse for a while, though.

I'll say to this that I'm definitely not a big fan of kink shaming. That said, it's very clear that this guy has not squared away the ways in which his kinks contrast with his espoused personal views, and I do think that could be a point of self-reflection for him.

I am of the opinion that kink does not necessarily contrast with social justice, because kinks (provided everything is both legal and consensual) are simply adults expressing power and control over their sexuality. Considering how stigmatized sexuality is, especially for the LGBTQ+ community, this can be an extremely valuable tool for helping people take back power from the prevailing, dominant, cishet sex-negative culture.

If those kinks do contrast something (e.g. an infantilization of women fetish naturally slotting into sexist mindsets) then it might be worthwhile to unpack... but also, I think saying "yeah I think it's hot, and also I think sexism should die in a fire and I would never play out this kink with someone who wasn't a fully consenting adult who is also completely into it" is a lot less skeevy to me than trying to hide or be ashamed of the kink.

But anyway, I think the way he has been treating the women of this community who disagree with him is a lot more telling about his stances toward women than his kinks or his favorite characters.

This behavior isn't exactly exclusive to men and feminism either, though obviously that's the most pertinent example. The most recent example I can think of was some Twitter thread where some (from what I understand) cisgender woman tried to make an "educational powerpoint" on how to "properly" treat gay men in fictional writing and in fandom. Which was littered with a bunch of weird stuff that had absolutely no basis in the actual gay community (I read it at the time, I recall it being a lot of really infantilizing "plz don't write things I don't like" type of points). And when gay men in fandom tried to call the OP out, OP blocked all of them and started complaining about how everyone was just so unnecessarily mean to them for no reason whatsoever before they eventually deleted the post for the backlash.

I couldn't tell you where it comes from. Some kind of audacity that comes with privilege that makes you believe you're allowed to speak for groups you don't belong to, I guess? There's admittedly a fine line to walk between being an ally and being a bulldozer, but I think your clearest indication that you are behaving like the latter should be people from the group you're trying to defend literally telling you that you're acting like a bulldozer and not listening to them.

I suppose it's appropriate for the month. I guess those people really need a spooky month boogeyman and Nilsh is always their go-to lmao.

I'd prefer if we don't resort to ad hominems in my ask box. I know I've probably been a little lenient on this, but now that I've had a few days away from the intensity of the situation it's not something I'd like to encourage on my platform. I'll also reiterate that I don't want anyone here to send the guy harassment. Keep any interaction constructive and/or calling out his actions.

Anyway, I can't say him not responding to anons that aren't completely positive to him is out of line with what I was expecting. The guy has never been interested in "debating" or "correcting misinformation" like he claims. It has always been about cultivating a certain image and trying to punish people who disagree with him. He wants to be the "hero" that saves the standom from the "evil Edelgard Criticals" and he doesn't look very righteous if he has a bunch of people telling him that they don't like him or think he deserves criticism for his actions.

Yep, this is an extremely common inroad to radicalization. If you position yourself as a victim, then the logic follows that there must be an oppressor for you to unite against. In some cases this is absolutely justified (like, when people are actually victimized by bigotry) though you should be careful people don't take advantage of that. Aaaaand in some cases, it is absolutely not justified (like, when someone else doesn't like your waifu and expresses that on the internet).

#Edelgard discourse #long post

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katherinesaysso · 2 years

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Despair is a pretty good way to describe it. I can’t find my smile. I’m so exhausted. Everything is out now. On Christmas, yet again, I was surprised by plans when Dj texted and said “need me to bring anything tonight?” I was genuinely surprised/confused. They were coming over for Christmas. We were good with food, etc. It took me a couple of minutes to realize he was talking about an overnight. I said “are we doing a sleepover?” Apparently Rob and Stephanie had discussed it, but in the melee of the day, Rob hadn’t had a chance to say anything to me. And you know the group chat that we’re all supposed to be using wasn’t well, used, so there’s me. Again. Out.

They came over and Stephanie is in a shit mood. The kids tried to get them to play some games and that died pretty fast. Pretty quickly they were all on their phones. She said maybe six words the entire night. Dj tried to make plans about Vegas. I didn’t really give any input because I’ve stopped. My plans are generally overruled as “my thing” or “too expensive” or “not something we’re into”. Or sometimes it’s more subtle than that. It’s just “well what about this instead”. So I’ve just stopped. Nevertheless, I finally said a hot spring that you would have to walk 3 miles round trip for. Immediately Steph was out. I said i would go alone but it was the one thing I wanted to do. Dj said he’d go with me (I think he could tell i was getting emotional). Stephanie and Rob were texting and then one of them suggested going to Keypers. It looked very much like they were texting each other, and not terribly subtly. They denied it. I started to say no to Keypers because of the crowd. I didn’t want to get banged into and get hurt. But again, I knew that conversation wasn’t going anywhere, so I said let’s go to keypers.

Keypers was just what I thought. Stupid crowded and John and Sarah hugging on me hard. I was in agony. I stayed for a while until i couldn’t take it anymore. I told Dj I was going home because my shoulder hurt. He was halfway through his drink and I thought he’d come with. He didn’t. So I said I’d see him at home. I went to get my coat and told Rob and Stephanie that I was leaving because my shoulder hurt. And I left. I’m not ashamed to say I cried a bit on the way home because Dj didn’t come with me, but whatever.

I got home, took ibuprofen, and snacked a bit. Then I curled up on the couch with Murphy and read. Sometime later, Rob came home. I said where’s Dj? He said he thought he was probably the best person to talk to me. I asked him about what. He said I seemed upset when I left. And that’s when it all came out.

I want out I can’t do it anymore. I want out of all of the relationships. I want me back. I’m tired of being shunted away. I’m tired of looking happy when I’m not. When I told Dj, his first response was “do you think this might have to do with your depression?” I offered to show him my journal going back to March. Therapy was not good for me. In fact, it was fucking traumatizing. It left me with the feeling that everything was my fault and I should absolutely sit back and say nothing. And that is not right.

But I get to claim who I am. And what I need. And if these relationships are right for me.

Stephanie’s first response was again, she’s always fearful of my response, which quite frankly, if utter bullshit at this point. There’s been no point that I’ve blown up at her. She has attacked me, so utter bullshit.

She also said she feels like I’m difficult to please. That might be true. I disrupt the status quo. It doesn’t feel good to me. And that’s the problem. That’s the exact problem.

There are bandaids for now. Rob is making a true effort to talk to me more throughout the day and be more afffectionate. Dj is separating the quad from us and talking more. He says he’ll be more pliable if I help him

Stephanie says she’ll work on communicating with me more now that she knows how Rob and I communicate throughout the day. She also said she’d pull together a jar where we each put in ideas for things to do.

But I’m skeptical. It’s incredibly hard to have faith in this. I’ve heard these things for four years and they just don’t stick. If they are happy, is it fair for me to ask them to change? what if I actually am just done and want out?

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myownprivatcidaho · 2 years

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ok these tags are atrocious but im sleep.deprived so dont mind me

#? hes been liking tweets in support of vasectomies which like yk lots of ppl have and one of them generally said that #its generally responsible to do ur part and get a vasectomy if youre sexually active #and he liked that and so initially i thougjt 'hah he might get a vasectomy and its funny cuz penis'#but he rtd sth in support of them and it hit like. oh SHIT #not that im saying he should or shouldnt . ud just jave to see him #objectively funny hed acknowledge and act on the fact he can sire offspring when he doesnt even have facial hair #if he does and goes fully committal hes gonna absolutely revel in rawdogging #like ripping off that protection like dufresnes shirt in theshawshank redemption and shooting blanks like theres no tomorrow #anyways good for him if thats the case ive heard nutting in pussy feels amazing. wish i knew the feeling :/.#god my brains deep fried i did two weeks of grueling childcare and had to take a covid test today.#i claim no responsibility for these words and frankly it is your fault for reading them #that one crush situation lol

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caffeineforbucky · 3 years

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As Time Goes By...(Chapter three)

A/N: This one took a while to write. I've just been so busy doing absolutely nothing all while procrastinating, so special thanks to that. No, but I really hope you like this, fellow reader. If you like the series, let me know if you want to be tagged!

(Side note: I've been playing RE8, thirsting over lady D, and dying over and over...it's going great! It's part of the procrastination...)

Also, has anyone seen the Bridgerton musical tiktoks? I swear I've had the 'burn for you' song in my head all last month and if you've been living under a rock...here's the link:

https://youtu.be/EwY9_m5qeow

Word Count: 2,299

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem! Reader

Warnings: I don't know....angst? As always, John Walker!?! AKA; Fake Cap. Umm...If I missed any let me know.

(A little PSA: I don't hate John Walker: or the actor. John is a well-written character. This is just strictly for the purpose of where my story is going. I'm more reiterating how Bucky treats him in the show. Thank you!!)

You groan, rolling from your left side to lay flatly on your back, arms spread out beside you. You inhale deeply, becoming aware of the moistened dirt and crushed wildflowers beneath you as they release their aromatics. Birds chirped around you, the busy sounds of traffic fading away while you lie still in the field, oxygen feeling heavy in your lungs.

"Y/N?!"

You barely heard the worrisome calls of Sam over the sound of your heart pounding in your ears. You lift your head, the view of icy mountains in the distance, blurry figures making their way towards you while you somehow managed to sit up. Your head was spinning, a sharp ache on the side of your thigh.

Your eyes flickered down, taking note of the small paring knife lodged in your thigh. You exhaled softly, nodding your head at the sight of it. "Okay," You grumble in agreement. With shaking hands, you wrap your fingers around the handle, bracing yourself by taking intervolved breaths before carefully pulling it from your thigh.

You worked fast, ignoring the crunch of rocks and dirt under the acknowledgeable footsteps of Sam and Bucky. Taking babochka, you cut off the end of your pant leg, wrapping the spandex around your wounded thigh before securing it with one of the holsters, tying the ends into a knot. You remain quiet, carefully pushing yourself up to your feet, transferring all of the weight to the opposite leg, eyes drifting up to meet the guys. "Are you guys okay?" You murmur, dusting off the clumps of dirt and dead leaves from your jacket.

"Are you?!" Sam exclaimed incredulously. "You're bleeding!" He points out, gesturing to the bright red staining the skin of your calf as it dripped down to your boot. The wrap might've held the wound shut, but that didn't mean blood wouldn't have soaked through.

"Oh, this?" You ask, glancing down at your leg, the wound throbbing in agony, but you did your best to avoid it. "I've had worse." That was true, from all those years fighting as an avenger. Getting shot, kicked, stabbed, beaten until you were purple, and undergoing mind control. This tiny stab was the least of your worries. It still hurt like hell, and you couldn't hide the discomfort in your features.

"Do you want a piggyback?" Bucky asks suddenly, slightly annoyed at your nonchalance and still concerned nonetheless. You weren't expecting it, the odd but kind offer, especially from the menace himself. Though you weren't one to pass up being carried. With a hesitant nod, you agree, watching Bucky crouch just a bit, allowing you to climb on his back.

The position was awkward for both of you. With his hands tightening on the back of your knees and your arms wrapped around his neck, neither of you could think straight. Yet, you were still thankful. The road to the airport was a long one, and you weren't sure if you could make it in your state. Bucky held you as if you weighed nothing, his super-soldier strength showing off while he carried you on his back, footsteps matching up with Sam. He didn't mind doing it, especially since he was the one who offered, and the proximity was just a bonus.

"Sorry about Redwing," Bucky muses, breaking the silence while the three of you sauntered down the empty road. There was nothing for miles, only empty plains of grass and dirt. Young trees scattered, lacking the greenery around them, evident of the cold weather in Munich.

"No, you're not," Sam remarks, narrowing his eyes to a pinprick at the winter soldier. "You've always hated Redwing."

"That doesn't mean I'm not sorry about it," Bucky grumbles, tightening his hold on you as he felt you slipping. You gasp at the sudden strength, clinging better to his shoulders as well. "How're you doin' up there?" He asks, jaw clenching from your touch.

"All things considering," You sigh, pushing aside the butterflies in your tummy at how close you were to Bucky. "I've been better. We've gotta find out where that super serum is coming from."

"Yeah," Sam chimed in, glancing at you. "-And how the hell after 80 years are there eight super-soldiers runnin' loose?"

Loud honks of a horn ring in your ears, tires treading on the gravel as an army jeep slows down beside the three of you. "So, that didn't go as planned, huh?" John chuckles, pushing the door open only for you to keep walking, paying no mind to the man in stars and stripes.

"Okay, keep going," John utters, signaling the driver to keep up as he pulls the door shut. "Look, at least we know what we're up against, huh? And I'm pretty sure it's one of the big three...so,"

"Aliens, androids, or wizards," Lemar comments as John nods his head in agreement.

"There's no such thing as wizards!" Bucky grunts, keeping his eyes forward, hands on the back of your knees.

"Fine, aliens or androids," John settles, sharing a look with his best friend beside him. "Look, it's 20 miles to the airport, and you guys need a ride. Gary, stop," He instructs, the wheels slowing down. John opens the door once again. "Get in," He sighs, motioning all of you inside the jeep as Bucky and Sam's footsteps came to a halt.

Bucky gently sets you down, taking note of the small whimpers falling from your lips. No matter how tough you appeared to be, you still carried so much vulnerability. "You okay?" He asks, eyes filled with so much concern it almost scared you. He hadn't looked at you like that in a while. "Do you want any help?"

With a soft nod, you oblige to Bucky's ask, needing more help than you anticipated. You didn't want to add any strain or force to your injury. You didn't even realize it happened, and that part of it was Sam's fault for swooping to grab you while you had a knife in hand, but you weren't going to start pointing fingers. You wrap your arm around Bucky's shoulder, using him as support while he boosts you up on the jeep after Sam climbs up first, helping you settle beside him.

"Woah!" John exclaims, almost rising to his feet at the sight of your thigh, your hands stained with blood. "Are you okay?"

With a curt nod, you adjust yourself to relieve some of the pressure while Bucky takes a seat on your left, leaving you to be right smack dab in the middle as he pulls the door shut. You blow out a breath, knowing damn well if it hadn't been for the mishap, you would've walked the damn 20 miles.

"Lemar, hand me the first aid kit," John instructs, pointing to the steel case beside his friend. You wanted to protest, but even you knew that the strap wasn't going to work. Mouthing a thank you, you take the case from Lemar's hand and clip it open.

"Okay, so we got eight super-soldiers on a bulk supply run," John continues, the jeep beginning to roll down the road. You hand the case to Sam, asking him to hold it while you searched for gauze, medical tape, and butterfly bandages, you were probably going to need stitches, but you'd worry about that later. "Why?" John asks, watching closely as you patched up your wound.

"They say their mission is to get things back to the way it was during the blip," Sam answers, handing you another strip of tape. "Maybe they're just tryna help."

"They had a funny way of showing it," Bucky adds, his eyes trained on you, a hiss slipping through your lips as you roll down the remaining spandex. You sigh in relief, the ache becoming dull as you shut the case, giving it back to Lemar.

"Better?" John asks, earning a single nod as a response. "I don't think we've properly met. John Walker," he smiles, offering a shake of his hand, but you didn't move, only staring at the outstretched palm in front of you. "Does she talk?" John mumbles suddenly, looking to Sam or Bucky for a reply.

Your eyes cast down, gaze hardening at the sight of the shield in his grasp. Flashes of Steve running through your mind, the many times he'd catch you trying to throw it like he would. Steve Rogers meant a lot to you, having joined him in not signing the Sokovian accords, being an outlaw, and helping to clear Bucky's name with Sam. So, seeing a man who wasn't Steve hold the shield awoke something in you. Something unkind and hateful.

"When she wants to," You claim, John squirms in his seat, sensing the tension as your eyes flicker to his. "And frankly has no desire to speak to you."

"You don't even know me," John defends, glancing at Bucky, a sly smirk on his lips, and Sam, who rendered quiet, his eyes looking elsewhere. John sets his attention back on you, lips razor thin.

You scoff, shaking your head softly as you fold your arms over your chest. "Jonathon F. Walker," You begin, leaning back in your seat, your eyes never leaving his. "Former Captain of the U.S Army's 75th Rangers Regiment. Graduated at the top of your class from the United States Military and the first person in American history to receive three medals of honor, ran RS-one missions in counterterrorism and hostage rescue."

John's tongue darts between his lips, a frown spreading throughout his forehead at the information you were giving him. Either you did research on him or, you just read his file, which you had done both. You were not one to go into a mission without potentially knowing who you were up against. It was better to be safe than sorry.

"So you saw the news?" John chuckles, the frown falling from his features while he shrugs. "Big deal, so did the entire world."

"Custer's Grove High school alumni."

John's smile falters.

"There you met, Lemar Hoskins and your current wife," You tilt your head in curiosity. "Olivia, right? Or am I getting it wrong?"

Clearing his throat softly, John broke eye contact with you. So you did know him, and you probably knew more than you led on. "Do they always just stare like that?" He gestures between you and Bucky, who had displayed the same distaste for him.

Sam glances beside him, observing the matched body language you shared with Bucky, its no wonder Bucky had taken a liking to you, even if he'd never admit it. "You get used to it," Sam smirks, turning his head back to Walker.

"Okay..." John drags, eyes flickering to the more sensible one of the trio, and that was Sam. "Look, that serum doesn't have the greatest track record, no offense," He waves his hand, dismissing the insult directed towards the only super-soldier in the car.

"We need to figure out where they're going. How'd you track 'em here?" Sam asks, "The flag smashers."

"Uh," Lemar murmurs, scratching the back of his head. "We didn't track them. We tracked you through Redwing."

"You hacked my tech!?" Sam gripes, straightening out his back as he sat up.

"Sorry," John laughs, "It's not exactly hacking. It's government property...kind of the government. Alright, you know things have gotten kind of..."

"Chaotic," Lemar adds.

"Yeah," John nods in agreement. "The GRC, they're doing their best to get things up and running smoothly post blip. If you guys teamed up with us-"

"No." Bucky interrupts. He couldn't let Walker finish that sentence.

"I've got mad respect for all of you," Lemar praises, looking between the trio before him. "But you were getting your asses kicked 'til we showed up."

"And who are you?" Bucky bemuses, cocking a brow at the man next to John.

"Lemar Hoskins," You mention, "I could've sworn we've been through this." You shake your head at the old man, for being 106, he couldn't hear a thing.

"I see a guy hanging out of a helicopter in tactical gear," Sam shrugs, "I'm gonna need a lot more than Lemar Hoskins."

"I'm Battlestar, John's partner."

"Battlestar?" Bucky repeats, narrowing his eyes at Lemar as he nods, confirming his alias. "Stop the car!" Bucky shouts suddenly, brakes screeching as the wheels come to a stop in the middle of the road. Bucky pulls open the handle, ducking, as to not rail his head on the bar-frame above him before hopping off the jeep.

"Look, I get it, okay?" John sighs, calling after Bucky. "I get the attitude, I do. You didn't think the shield was gonna end up here. I get it, Bucky. And I'm not trying to be Steve!"

"Good," You interject, rendering John to settle his eyes on you. "Because you will never be. And just because you're the one wielding it..." You grab the bar above your head, using it to pull yourself up. "It doesn't make you Captain America." And with that, you carefully jump off the jeep, following after the heated super-soldier.

Sighing in frustration, he rips his eyes away from your retreating figures. "I'm not trying to replace him either. I'm just trying to be the best Captain America I can be." He explains to Sam, hoping the falcon would cut him some slack. "-And it'd be a whole lot easier if I had Cap's wingman on my side."

Sam's eyes widen in surprise, his tongue darting between his lips. "It's always that last line," He scoffs, shaking his head as he jumped off the car, following you and Bucky.

John's lips thin out, face scrunching in a scowl. "Let's go," He instructs. The sound of the jeep leaving making its way to your ears.

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hihellogoodbyebruh · 4 years

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Stingy

Pairing: Ezekiel “EZ” Reyes x Black!OC

Summary: EZ has a problem sharing and his girl, Monique is quite over it.

Warning(s): Some angst with a fluff ending

Word count: 2,552

AN: Ahhhh my first EZ fic. Based on a request I received from the lovely @ly--canthrope with an assist coming from Ginuwine’s Stingy. Thank YOU so much for your patience and encouraging words. I hope you enjoy this xo

You can say I'm tripping but I'm stingy And I can't hide it Wanna keep you all to me I'm selfish, why try to fight it?

An abandoned episode of Girlfriends played on the tv in the background as a woman sat straddling EZ’s lap as the two made out. His hands were rubbing up and down her sides under her shirt and her hands were gripping his face. One of her favorite things to do was kiss her boyfriend. She loved that they could just get lost in each other and it was the perfect opener for the mindblowing sex that was coming.

The familiar ringtone and buzz from her phone’s vibration echoed against the coffee table as she received a text message. She pulled away from the kiss and turned her head, trying to see if she could read the message from her position. She felt EZ stiffen, his hands moving down her hips to grip her thigh.

“I swear to God, Monique.” EZ began, feeling himself become annoyed. He can’t even enjoy her company at home without being interrupted. He’s tried so hard to be understanding, but that selfish part of him was fed up. The opening of Galindo’s company really put into perspective how often he misses time with her.

As Miguel’s assistant she had a very big hand in putting the opening celebration together. She’d been Miguel’s assistant for a couple years now. Her mother was a close confidante to Dita before she passed away. Dita wanted to keep an eye on her so she asked Miguel to give her a job. She was fantastic at keeping things organized and she already knew about the other side of business.

Working for Miguel was great because though some would hate being an assistant, he actually gave her a lot of responsibility. She was often put in charge of events while making sure everything in his life runs smoothly, at least on the legal side of things.She was so proud of her work tonight but she hardly had time to celebrate until she saw her man walking through the door.

She’d been with EZ, Ezekiel as she liked to call him because she loved his full name, for a little over a year. It was the best relationship she’d ever been in. He was kind, honest, caring, and oh so very fine.

She ended her current conversation before strutting over to Ezekiel, her arms immediately going around his neck. “Hi baby. I’m so happy you’re here.” She kissed his lips.

EZ loved seeing his girl in her element. She was very much out of his league in his mind and he felt lucky every day he woke up to her. “Hey beautiful.” He greeted her, hands resting on her lower back and pulling her close to him. “I see all your hard work has paid off.”

“It really has. Things couldn’t be going better. Especially now that you’re here.” She grinned at him.

“Oh yeah? You’re happy to see me?” He teased, smiling back so she kissed him again.

The two of them engaged in some conversation and heavy flirting before they were interrupted by her boss.

“Monique, I need you for a second…” Miguel announced, no time for pleasantries. He was always about his business. She could respect it but it was also annoying because he could have greeted Ezekiel

“Oh hi Miguel. We weren’t having a conversation or anything.” She sarcastically replied, giving her boss a look.

“Reyes..” Miguel acknowledged her boyfriend with a barely noticeable head nod before bringing his attention back to her. “You’ve put in the most face time with the Castillos and the lovely matriarch has requested your presence. We don’t want to keep them waiting, verdant?”

EZ rolled his eyes at Miguel but didn’t say anything. He was used to Miguel’s shit and honestly he didn’t like him either so the less they communicated the better.

The Castillos were a very important family that have entered into an arrangement with Galindo enterprises both on the legitimate and illegitimate side of business. It was already fragile so she wanted to keep everything on the up and up.

She retreated from EZ’s arms without a second thought. “Is everything alright? When we went over the final documents she didn’t bring anything up.” She began walking alongside Miguel but stopped in her tracks.

“I’ll be right back.” She walked back over to EZ and planted a distracted kiss on his cheek.

He mustered up a slight smile and then she was gone.

She didn’t come back until the end of the night.

She sighed, pushing her way out of his lap and snatching up her phone once she stood up. “He’s my boss, Ezekiel. You have got to let this thing with Miguel go. Enough is enough.”

“He just does this to piss me off.” And it worked. He wanted to have her all to himself, but he couldn’t do that with Galindo constantly texting her and having her work long hours. At this point it felt she was the one singlehandedly keeping his businesses afloat.

“So stop letting it piss you off.” She replied, like it was the easiest thing and to her it was.

He shot up from his seat and exasperatedly asked, “Why do you always defend him?”

“Because you’re being ridiculous. You knew who I worked for when we started dating.” She was annoyed they were even having this argument. Her attention was focused on her phone as she replied to Miguel with the information he needed.

EZ grew even more irritated that even in an argument he couldn’t have her whole attention. “What could he possibly need from you at 2 in the morning? Hm?” He snatched the phone from her hand.

“Are you out of your mind? Give me my phone back!” She gasped, shocked at his audacity. She and Ezekiel had been together for awhile now and he’s never acted this way. He’s never lost his temper with her. “Things happen. Emergencies. I never say anything when you have an emergency with the MC.”

“Bishop doesn’t text all hours of the night. Bishop doesn’t hate you and try to disrespect our relationship at every turn. And quite frankly, Bishop isn’t a woman so it’s not the same at all.” Ez snapped, his voice getting louder.

“And just what the fuck are you implying, EZ?” There was a clear warning in her tone of voice as she matched his volume. Now they both were yelling at each other. She never called him EZ either. Always preferring to call him Ezekiel.

He knew he should have backed down and cooled off but he was beyond tired of this shit. The angry words slipped outta his mouth before he could stop them. “I’m just wondering what all the late nights are really about. If I’m dating Miguel’s side piece just tell me!”

That was a mistake. Yelling was a mistake. Saying those words was a mistake. He knew it the moment he saw tears form in her eyes.

“Excuse me?” She whispered, voice slightly cracking. How dare he call her a cheater! He officially has lost his mind.

Ezekiel felt his heart drop into his stomach when he heard the hurt in her voice. It went too far. “I didn’t mean it. I’m sorry, mariposa.” He started to walk closer to her, but she stepped back from him.

“This has nothing to do with me. Or us. This is you and Miguel continuing to have a dick measuring contest. Th-this all goes back to Emily.” The name rolled off her tongue with mild resentment. The two never had a bad run in with each other, but all the stories about Emily and EZ’s past relationship and how she was the love of his life always made Monique get defensive.

“That’s not true.” EZ refuted, but she interrupted him before he could further explain.

“Yes it is! And if somehow it’s not then we got some serious problems baby.” She just shook her head at him before demanding, “Get out.”

You're the only one, you're the only love That's strong enough to claim me So please forgive me I'm just stingy But how can you blame me?

It’s been two weeks since the fight with Ezekiel and Monique was really missing him. She was mad that he would be such a dumbass, but she still just wanted to be laying back on the couch with him watching tv.

Miguel watched as she pushed her salad around her plate, clearly not hungry. “Todo bien hermanita?” He asked, watching as she finally brought her eyes up to meet his. This was the quietest lunch the two ever had. Usually she was talking a mile a minute.

She smiled a little at the nickname. He only called her that when he was concerned or when he really wanted something. Truth is, the two had a sibling kind of relationship. She just wished EZ had seen and understood it. “I’m fine. Not really hungry.”

“Hmm.” He hummed, taking a sip of his drink. “Nestor and I had a meeting with the Mayans yesterday. Saw your novio and he looked like shit.” Miguel casually mentions and she tries to act nonchalant even as her heart races at the mention of a certain biker. “Imagine my surprise when he asked to pull me aside for a chat.”

“What!” She gasped loudly, jaw dropping.

“I’m sure you could guess what we spoke about.”

“Miguel…” She was ready to apologize to him for whatever accusations were thrown his way.

“I know I’m very demanding. It’s part of who I am. I demand a lot from myself and from those around me, especially those closest to me. That includes you, hermanita. But I don’t want to be the reason for your unhappiness. Even if it is with Reyes..” There was only mild disgust in his tone and she took that as an improvement.

“It’s not your fault he doesn’t trust me, hermano.” She sighed.

“He is crazy about you, you know that right?”

Monique went to answer, but Miguel stood up from his seat. He grabbed his suit jacket from the back of the chair and walked over to her, pushing down gently on her shoulders to keep her from getting up. He leans down and whispers “If in the end, you don’t want him and he won’t take the hint you let me know. He can visit my pew.”

She jerked her head back to give him a stern look, hating when he brought up that damn pew. He just kissed her head and walked away. She sat there dumbfounded for a second. “Wait, what-” She turned her head to call out to Miguel but her voice caught in her throat as she spotted Ezekiel right behind her. He walked over and took the seat Miguel was just in.

It was silent before she decided to break it. “You and Miguel working together? Hell must have frozen over.”

He cracks a grin at that. “Ha. Guess you could say we’ve called a truce. At least when it comes to a certain beautiful woman.”

“Calling a truce with my ‘side piece’? I’m sure Emily appreciates it.” She sarcastically replied, making him sigh in reply.

“I never should have said that. I was pissed off and being a sarcastic asshole. This never had anything to do with Emily. Yes we have history, but I don’t think about that anymore. I haven’t for a long time.” Monique looked down, wanting to believe him but having a hard time doing it. “I think about you. I think about you when we’re apart, I think about when I’ll see you again, I think about our future when you’re in my arms. You’re never not on my mind.”

His words make her want to smile, but she wasn’t done. “Then what’s been going on with us lately? Anytime I answer a call or text from Miguel you’re huffing and puffing. You sit there literally pouting like a 3 year old every time I have to do something for work. What’s the problem?”

“First, I don’t pout.” She started to disagree but he loudly continued, earning a playful glare from her. “SECONDLY, I know you’re an independent woman out here making it on your own and shit. I know it’s just been you and your job for a long time. But now you got me, mariposa. I’m here by your side and I like spending time with you. I like the quiet moments at home and our nights out. I want more of them. You work so much and you forget about everything else. Me included.”

“What do you mean I forget you? I don’t forget you.”

“Galindo Enterprises.”

“What are...Oh-” Her face completely dropped as she remembered the night. She got pulled away by Miguel and never went back to Ezekiel. She didn’t mean to, but she ended up checking on other things with the party and even though it hurts to admit she did forget about him. “Oh baby…” She held one of his hands that was on the table between both of hers.

“I’ve never been the one to cling and I don’t like to be needy but you’ve changed me. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me and I love being in your presence. Maybe I am kind of a baby, but I think wanting your attention is a good sign for a relationship. I’m not asking you to quit your job, but some boundaries would be nice. ”

She felt so bad. He was absolutely right. She had been alone for a long time. She wasn’t used to sharing her life with someone else. An adjustment was obviously needed. “I never meant to make you feel like I wanted anyone or anything more than you. Or that I cared about those things more. I promise that I will work on communicating more with you and not just doing what I want with no consideration for you.”

He nodded his head, but she had to add one more thing. “You do need to know that sometimes just like you can’t help getting called away the same goes for me. But I’ll talk with Miguel and we’ll work out something that works for us all. I can’t believe I didn’t realize. I’m so-”

Ezekiel cut her off before she could begin criticizing herself. “So amazing, captivating, elevating,” after every word, EZ placed a kiss on the palm of her hand. “Anyway you put it I’m happy to be your man.”

“I’m still salty at you insinuating I was sleeping with Miguel.” She declared, causing him to nod with a sad look on his face.

“How can I make it up to you, mariposa?”

“Hmm…” She pretended to think when she already knew what she wanted. She leaned forward and beckoned him closer with a wiggle of her finger. She whispered in his ear, “I wanna ride you with only your kutte on until you lose your mind.” She lightly bit his ear lobe.

She busted out laughing at how fast he scrambled out of his seat and took her hand, pulling her behind him as he hustled out of the restaurant.

#ez reyes #black!reader #black!oc #ezekiel reyes #hhgbyebruh fics #ez reyes x black!reader #stingy

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wisteria-lodge · 3 years

Text

bird primary (system in progress) + burnt badger secondary (really loud bird model)

Howdy! I’m still trying to figure out my own houses and was wondering if you could provide some insight. I haven’t exactly mastered the system so I don’t know how accurate/inaccurate my claims are, so bear with me.

The “why”/Primary: I am extremely motivated by knowledge. I want to know things, not just out of intrinsic curiosity (though that does play a role), but because knowing why things work helps me protect myself more effectively.

One of the trickiest things about this system is separating motivation from method. Because yeah, they are related, but they're also really different. Like this example: "I protect myself by learning things." That's a how, that's secondary stuff. (Bird secondary of course.)

A recent example is this— a group of my former friends all ditched me because I discussed a heavily stigmatized mental disorder that I show symptoms of. And my first response (other than bawling) was to ask them why. And when I got the answer, I was hurt, but I understood. I don’t say this for you to show me pity, but rather because it illustrates this model in action.

This is a really interesting example. Your friends acted in a way that emotionally hurt you. First you processed your feelings (which you talk about in a dismissive, lighthearted, jokey way) then you asked them for more information... which hurt you, but also made you more secure. This is very Bird primary. You feel feelings, but they're whatever. What actually bothers you is not having the data.

(I suspect you're going to end up being a Double Bird. And Double Birds are unique in that their morality and problem-solving are SO interconnected, that they think I'm crazy for saying that for most people, they are in fact two very different things.)

When I got the why and processed my emotions, I cut off ties and realized that their severe judgy-ness had hindered my life for 2 years. And now that I know the “why”, I won’t bring up said disorder again until I know it’s safe. It might never be, but I still have hope.

You updated your system, and you cut away the parts that aren't serving you anymore. Bird primary.

Morally-speaking, I am very sensitive to the views of others around me.

External primary.

I’m not proud of this. In fact, it’s a detriment.

A lot of Birds feel this way. It's a big part of why they tend to like Lion primaries. Lions are much more able to dismiss things with "sounds like that's a them problem."

I won’t go into details, but my parents are… bad. Not wholly, but they are bad. I’ve tried for years, and still do, to escape their opinions because I know it’ll influence mine.

Parents are sticky. They do that. I've been a happily UnBurnt Lion primary for a while now... but I still sometimes hear that voice in my head that sounds like my mother.

And, much like them, I tend to get over-passionate in what I stand for. Unlike them, I’m willing to change if evidence supports this change. I always, however, carry the burden of my former hatred. I always feel guilt over my old beliefs. Even if I’ve changed, the pain I’ve done can never be reversed. And this guilt eats me alive, this shame of being fundamentally wrong.

Okay. You got really emotional on me really quickly here. This could mean a couple things. Your parents sound like fairly toxic Idealists, either Exploded Lions or Exploded Birds (I'm sort of leaning Lion due to the more emotion-heavy words like "passion" and "hatred.") Birds can feel bad, feel guilt, feel shame when looking back at an older version of themselves that they now consider morally repugnant. (Birds are human.) Idealists struggle with the angst of worrying that they are fundamentally wrong about the world. So you could be a guilty Bird, especially if your emotions feel wrong or unhelpful somehow. But you could also be a very Burnt Lion modeling Bird - because Bird seems safer, and you don't want to be a Lion the way your parents are.

When the friend-event happened, I thought that I was in the wrong, and that I had once again fucked myself over because of my passion and sureness in what I have.

"I thought I was wrong because I was acting like an Exploded Lion primary." Yeah, I'm thinking there's some sort of outside influence here that needs to be unpacked.

It took a lot of convincing and evidence for me to see that they were the assholes (albeit I wasn’t pure either— I was their friend, after all).

I'm definitely leaning Bird for you. A bird surrounded by Lions maybe, who sometimes uses Lion terminology. But Bird.

I am a planner and system-lover at heart. I’m not proud of it, but it’s just part of me.

What's with all this negative language? Being a planner and a system-lover is a wonderful thing to be. There's some Burning here.

The caveat— I have autism, so I’m not sure if it’s due to that or not. Hence the shortness of this section. Take it as you will, regardless of if it’s evidence or not.

I have autism and I'm a Lion Badger. People are different. The only real pattern I've observed is the way nerodivergent people disproportionately build Bird secondaries as coping strategies.

Honesty is maybe not the best policy, it’s still an admirable one. I wish, frankly, that my moral system was more honest. I feel like I have no set morals. That it all comes from elsewhere. Lion primaries have this set, intrinsic morality that I envy. My friend is a lion primary, and while my views have radically changed, hers haven’t inched. She’s always been honest about herself and what she holds true.

I'm doubling down on Bird primary for you. This is the perspective of a Bird looking in on a Lion. Lion morality isn't set or intrinsic - it's built, and it changes, but it builds and changes differently than a Bird's does (more slowly, usually). But there really is a pattern of Birds seeing it as more moral/easier/better.

And I’m still trying to figure out what “truth” means to me. I mean, yes, I’m a dry and blunt asshole, but that’s not really the same as gut morality. Internal honesty is what I want, and external honesty is what I have to some extent.

It sounds that you are going though a lot of very intense shifts in your life right now. You've got a diagnosis that has you questioning your place in the world. You've followed your parent's system all you life, and are now deciding that you don't want that. But now comes deciding what you do want, and that's a lot harder (especially for a Bird, who has to build it from the ground up.) You like the way Lions do things, but Lion primaries do not feel accessible.

I’m very clear with who I like. I can admit their faults, and even get annoyed or angry at them, but not even betrayal can stop me from loving them. I’d compare myself to the Twelfth Doctor from “Doctor Who” and Ponyboy Curtis from The Outsiders in that regard.

So maybe you are building a system with very Snake values.

Loyalty is one of my weaknesses. I get overly-attached to people, and so if/when they leave me, it shatters my world. But my brand of loyalty is mostly to people, not philosophical ideas.

... but you're not *really* comfortable with Snake either, if you consider it to be a "weakness."

I would consider myself somewhat philosophical (well, as much as a fucking teenager can be)

Teenagers are *extremely* philosophical, stop being so down on yourself.

but I can be somewhat vague in my beliefs.

Because you're still building them, give yourself a *second.*

If I were to rate the likelihood of what primary I think I am, it’s something like this:

Bird: 9/10 probability (maybe burned)

Snake: 7/10 probability

Badger: 6/10 probability (maybe burned)

Lion: 2/10 probability

What is it with Birds and numbered lists?

The “how”: I feel like I change in order to fit in. I mean, to some extent, we all do, but it’s far more drastic for me. With the lion primary friend, I act as a “Jason Todd” to their Batman. I challenge them, egg them on, crack jokes and become violently passionate and act like a nerd, and she simply watches, usually adding her own comments but mostly sitting on the sidelines by choice. We also joke that I’m the Ferris Bueller to their Cameron Frye. But, with another friend, I’m a parent figure. I listen most of the time, and sometimes jump in with creative ideas and we talk for hours about it.

I'm guessing Actor Bird, both because you can specifically list out the qualities that you "act" out. And because you're invoking and basing your performance off specific [fictional] characters. Which is a HUGE Actor Bird thing.

I go with the flow of a given situation as best as I can (with the added caveat of being autistic, because that does affect how well I can read a room). However, that’s where the adaptation ends.

Huh. I'm hearing Burnt secondary language here. "I'd like to go with the flow and read the room - but I can't, because I'm autistic." You can definitely *learn* how to read a room. Why do you think I'm so interested in (and good at :) personality systems? This is how I learned to use my Courtier Badger. I used to model Bird secondary like crazy, and I kind of don't bother anymore. I don't need the training wheels.

Planning: like I stated before, I’m a planner. I try to learn the most about a situation before jumping in. Sometimes, however, I stall the inevitable and miss my chance, so I jump in and wind up nearly drowning. And this dichotomy repeats. I overcompensate for a lack of knowledge in a situation by micromanaging, or I wind up sitting bored when I’ve already done everything I need to do. And yes, stress and boredom are equally as destructive for me. I try so hard to plan to avoid both of these outcomes, but it only works half the time. So, I guess I’m a bit of a “planster” overall.

I want to learn about a situation... but sometimes I "stall" or "drown" (Burnt language.) But planning also leads to "micromanaging" and "getting bored" (model language.) I think you've got a really loud Bird secondary model... but there might be something else underneath.

Collecting things is fun. Postcards, candles, lighters, crystals, rocks, 1940s hats, knowledge, stories, music, (original) characters, the list goes on. I’m a collector of whatever I can get my hands on. Hell, by this point, I can’t tell what’s my special interest and what I just enjoy (again, autism).

Oh my goodness gracious 'my special interest' and 'what I enjoy' are not two different categories!

But my systems and collections are my coping.

Figured.

I can’t say, though, that they hold any weight outside of emotional release. There’s nothing practical about knowing how they shot The Outsiders movie, or how crows have a flat tail and ravens have two main sections on theirs. All of this knowledge almost feels useless to me. I mean, sure, I’m great at school, but what else? Nothing, it seems like. And being good at school and nothing else makes a person go crazy when they can’t achieve their academic goals. But that’s a bit besides the point— I’m a collector, but I’m unsure how well this really fits into a secondary beyond a model.

Bird secondary model.

I invest in others more than I care to admit.

Oh man, are you a Badger secondary like me?

I genuinely believe in the goodness in humans, no matter how impossible it becomes. Even those who I don’t see any good in aren’t wholly evil. My perception isn’t law.

^ That's primary stuff. Maybe a more Badger-flavored system is going to work better for you than a Snake-flavored one.

But some people trust me: with their secrets, with homework, with relationship issues, with their religious struggles. And I try to help. I might not be good with it, but I do try to help as best I can.

Kinda sounds like a Badger secondary.

I use my planning and my categorizing skills and my knowledge to benefit others. I show up, I do what I need to do, and I don’t usually expect much to come of it. It’s nice when something does, but it’s not expected. And sometimes, these investments into others' lives and grades and relationships do pay off. I make friends. Those friends stick by me, and I trust them. I continue to invest in others, because I am a lover even though I’m cynical.

I think you're a Badger secondary.

And when that trust is broken, like the example in the beginning, I go to people who won’t abandon me to get a second opinion. When I say that I love someone, I mean it. So it hurts when they leave. It always does.

Oh that's your friends leaving hit you so hard. It's not an abstract morality thing at all, it's practical. You're a Badger secondary, and they were your base of support.

I’ll be frank on this— I’m almost entirely sure that I’m not a lion secondary. I’m fiercely efficient and some people see me as a good leader, but that’s it.

Lion and Badger are the two Inspirational secondaries. They're the one who sort of manage to collect armies or families as a side effect of existing.

Even with the leader example, I prefer interpersonal relations or to be alone. I’m not a big fan of group settings.

That's fair. I am also a Badger who really, really likes my own company. Or small groups of interesting people.

If I were to rate the likelihood of what secondary I am, it’s like this:

Bird: 7/10 probability

Badger: 6/10 probability

Snake: 5/10 probability

Lion: 0/10 probability

Other systems for comparison: I’m aware that MBTI and enneagram are, at worst, pseudo-science, but I still enjoy them regardless. At best, they’re fun self-help tools, and that’s how I try to use them.

MBTI: INTJ (Ni-Te-Fi-Se)

Enneagram: 5w4, tritype 514

Sagittarius sun libra moon cancer rising in astrology

FLEV or LFEV in attitudinal psyche

sx/sp (sexual and self-preservation) in instinctual variants

MBTI, Enneagram, and astrology are all fun in their own ways. (I don't actually know the last two!) And I can talk about them on their own terms. But this system was the best, and the most useful, when I went looking for words to describe myself.

I hope this is enough information, and thank you again if you do happen to do this! If you don’t, that’s totally okay. Have a good day!

Thank you for writing in. That was a journey! Thanks @thesketchykid for the submission.

#sortinghatchats #sortme #wisteria sorts #bird badger #birdpri #badgersec #bird secondary model #badger secondary vs bird secondary #autism stuff

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alpacaparkaseok · 4 years

Text

Lost & Found - 3

Pairing: Park Jimin x soulmate (oc)

Warnings: Insecurity, anxiety, abandonment

Word Count: 3.4K

**read this first!**a/n: be sure to read the newspaper article at the end of Jimin’s POV, it’s important to the story! if you’re unable to see the words b/c they’re too small, please comment/let me know and I’ll fix it! If you’re on mobile, you should be able to click on it and flip it to horizontal. That should make it easier to read.

Chapter 3. Fake Smile

series masterlist

Jimin fiddles with a loose thread hanging off the end of his sleeve, minding his business as hushed staff members bustle around the room. He’s wearing a pristine white jacket over his button down shirt. It feels like it’s been years since he’s last dressed up for anything.

“Ok, we’re ready to go,” someone in the distance says. Jimin sits up a little straighter, trying his best to look overjoyed to be here. A familiar makeup artist rushes forward, dabbing at his face and giving him a warm look.

“Oh, let me get this for you,” she mumbles, noticing the loose thread that Jimin keeps twisting and pulling. Taking a pair of small scissors from the bag around her waist, she goes to cut the string.

Jimin tenses up, a strangled noise coming from his throat. “No, leave it,” he mumbles. The makeup artist doesn’t hear him, thinking he’s just being polite.

Suddenly Jimin jumps up, backing away as fast as he can. “Leave it be!” He sobs, bringing his hand close to his chest.

Everyone freezes, looking to the idol with a mixture of worry and confusion. The makeup artist from before is the first one to put two and two together, bowing low and profusely apologizing.

It takes a few minutes for Jimin to come back to his senses, finally going through some breathing exercises and assuring the worried staff that he’s fine. When he finally settles back on the stool, the same makeup artist hurries over, keeping her eyes averted as she hurriedly touches up his makeup.

The guilt hits Jimin like a brick wall. “I’m sorry,” he says, his eyes perfectly reflecting how horrible he feels for his outburst. “You just took me by surprise. Please, I’m so sorry.”

“No, it’s my fault,” the young woman mumbles. “I should have known better.”

Before Jimin can respond, the woman scurries away and it’s time for Jimin to film his short message to be shown at the concert.

Jimin has worn a few fake smiles in his lifetime, however as he lies straight to the camera, claiming that his muscle spasms have returned and that he’s working toward a speedy recovery, he can’t recall the lies ever hurting this much.

“Please wait for me,” Jimin says, his close-lipped smile hopefully countering the look in his eyes. “Enjoy the concert! Fighting!” He goes to raise his hand in a fist, but stops as he catches sight of his red thread in his peripheral.

Once the video is cut and Jimin is given the OK to head out, he slips out of the room immediately. A part of him would love to just go ahead and disappear into one of the empty rooms within the Bighit building, but he knows that he has to attend the meeting that Bang Sihyuk called for him and all the members.

By the time he makes it into the conference room everyone else is already there. He feels a bit more relieved when he enters the room and they don’t immediately halt in their conversation. Instead, Taehyung pulls Jimin to sit down beside him, giving him a boxy smile.

“Alright,” Bang Sihyuk sits at the head of the table with a soft look in his eye. “Are we ready?”

A round of agreement goes around the table, Jimin folding his hands on the table and doing his best to keep his eyes on the wall behind Hobi’s head. He definitely was aware of the line of red threads that trailed into the conference room, fighting the pang of hurt that was bound to arise.

The meeting starts off normally enough, going over a quick review of their upcoming schedule and making sure everything is prepared for their next concerts in Japan. The boys occasionally make comments or express concerns with the schedule, and everyone works together to resolve any issues that may arise.

For the first time all week, Jimin feels...normal.

That feeling comes crashing down when Bang Sihyuk’s voice rings out, calling Jimin’s name.

“We have a few options for how we can move forward,” he begins. “But I just want you to keep in mind that we’re in this together. No matter what.”

“Thank you,” Jimin mumbles.

Sitting back, Bang Sihyuk claps his hands. “That being said, we have a few options. I’m not sure what you would feel best about, so please weigh in with your opinion.”

With that being said the entire room begins to delve into the separate ideas. Of course the company sending out a statement is one of the first ideas to be discussed, however Jimin can’t shake the uneasy feeling that accompanies it.

“I know that we can’t just pretend that nothing happened,” Jimin states, sitting forward in his seat. “But isn’t there a way that we could just...I don’t know…” He trails off, unsure of what he was even trying to say in the first place.

Namjoon, who Jimin notices hasn’t even looked at him in the eye during this entire meeting, clears his throat. “We can always just take the ‘no comment’ route. I mean, there’s sure to be a lot of rumors that accompany that, but there’s going to be rumors no matter what.”

“No comment?”

Bang Sihyuk nods. “That’s basically just us refusing to ever shed light on the situation. Honestly...we might have to take that route anyway, because we really don’t know what happened. Instead of scrambling for some sort of explanation, we could just allow people to wonder. I’m not sure if Jimin would feel comfortable with-”

“Sounds great.”

All eyes turn to Jimin, who is sitting on the edge of his seat, fiddling with the severed thread.

“What?”

Jimin shrugs. “Like Namjoon said; there’s going to be rumors no matter what. Let them wonder. Frankly the idea of offering up some sort of patched together explanation every time people ask me about this,” he holds up his hand for emphasis, “sounds exhausting and never ending. Which, all of this will be, but I’d like to just keep this for myself.”

It’s quiet for a moment while everyone takes in this information, and Jimin waits with bated breath for the verdict. In the end, it’s Jungkook who ventures to speak first.

“I think you have a point,” he says, shooting his friend an understanding look. “People are going to be asking about it nonstop and spreading rumors, so I’d feel better if what we answer is on our terms. People can so easily twist our responses.”

After a couple more minutes of discussion and debate, they settle it. Deciding to take the ‘no comment’ route for now, Jimin feels a wave of relief come over him. Namjoon, too, appears to be relieved with this decision.

Once the meeting is over, Jimin doesn’t miss the way Namjoon practically hurtles out of the room.

“Where’s he headed to?” He asks the others. Jin shrugs.

“I think he said he had to meet with Chung-hei.”

There’s a pang of pain at the mention of Namjoon’s soulmate, but it doesn’t hurt as bad as it might have the day before. “Oh.” Before the others can dive in to make him feel better, Jimin changes the subject. “Have you guys already eaten?”

Taehyung’s eyes light up at the possibility of his best friend joining in on a meal with them. “Nope. Let’s go!”

The boys surround Jimin as they head down into the small cafeteria area, a few staff wandering around. The makeup artist from this morning keeps her head down, shooting Jimin a sheepish smile before scampering off. Jimin winces, recalling the events of the morning. How he’d lost complete control-

“Who even reads the paper anymore?” Jungkook asks aloud, grabbing an abandoned article from off a table. “I didn’t realize that they still delivered hard copies.”

Jimin wanders over, forcing a half-smile to his face. “Is it a real newspaper?” Before he can grab it, Jungkook drops the paper almost as though it burned his skin.

“Er, no,” he stutters out, earning a confused look from everyone around the table. “I think it’s a fake, I’ll just throw it away-”

Jimin reaches out and grabs the newspaper before Jungkook can do anything, eyes widening as they glance over the front page. Everyone else gathers around, falling eerily quiet. In the end, it’s Taehyung who breaks the silence.

“I’m sure it’s just some dumb misunderstanding,” he mumbles. “You know how reporters get.”

Jimin can hardly find it in himself to nod, rereading the article again and again.

For the first time in his life, Jimin wishes that the gossip column were true.

✂

Typically, the second I’m done with work, I do my best to not think of bread for the rest of the day. Today, however, is different.

My tiny apartment has been transformed, the kitchen dusted over with a thin layer of flour. On the counter sits an old wooden slab, a chunk of dough sitting atop it. And then there’s me.

Hands cracked to oblivion, hair pulled back in what can only be identified as a bird’s nest, panting as I flatten the dough again and again. It’s the same process that I’ve been doing for years, my shoulders hardly aching anymore with the constant practice.

Punch.

Press.

Repeat.

The sound of me beating the dough to a pulp is ringing in my ears, and when I finally step back with a huff, it takes me a moment to hear something scratching at the door. Shaking my head to rid myself of the ringing noise, I listen closer.

“Who’s there?”

A quick glance out the window shows my empty porch, however the scratching continues. Now that it’s steadily growing darker, I can’t tell if there’s anything out there.

Am I being haunted? Is this my punishment for cutting the thread?

Slowly, I open the door, wincing at the white mark I leave behind from my flour-heavy hands. “Hello?”

I get a meow in response.

Looking down, I meet eyes with a pristine white cat that sits on its back legs and looks up at me with unwavering annoyance.

“What?” I ask the cat, that simply blinks up at me. “What are you so annoyed about? You’re the one that knocked, not me.”

Nearly rolling its light colored eyes at me, the cat stretches before looking back up expectantly. From the white fur that doesn’t have a single spec of dirt, to the look it’s giving me, I feel like I just stumbled upon the queen’s cat.

“By all means, come in,” I croon, stepping aside and watching with no small amount of amusement as the cat leaps inside. It immediately heads toward the couch, jumping atop it. “Make yourself comfortable,” I mumble.

Ignoring my visitor for now, I go back to the counter and stare down at the dough. I’ve been kneading this for a while now, it’s flat enough that it might never rise. That’s not what I got it for, though. There’s already some bread baking in the oven.

Half-heartedly throwing one fist at it, I find that I’ve completely lost any energy. Instead I just stare down at the wooden slab, and wonder.

It’s the same thing that I’ve been wondering about all day. My thoughts go in endless circles, always coming back around to the same thing.

Park Jimin.

After Chung-hei appeared at the shop a couple of days ago, I’ve been unable to stop thinking about what I’ve done. When I told her my reasoning, recalling the awful experience she had and admitting that I was a coward and didn’t want to go through the same thing, Chung-hei looked at me with something akin to realization.

“Jolie,” she had muttered, stopping me from hitting the dough again. “You know that he would love you, right? You’re enough. More than enough.”

Which led me to this moment, pulling out the wooden slab and spending my entire evening beating some dough and trying to beat out my emotions as well. It still hasn’t worked.

“What’s your name?”

The cat’s ears twitch a little at my sudden question, however it just continues to stare at me like I might be insane. Judging from my recent actions, I’d say it isn’t wrong.

“Are you planning on staying the night, or…?”

A swish of its tail and the cat is sinking lower into the couch.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Finally abandoning the dough and washing my hands off, I meander over to my new roommate. “What should I call you? I have a feeling you won’t take kindly to just being called ‘cat’, right?”

The cat gives me a death glare, confirming my suspicions.

“That’s what I thought,” I say, raising my hands in innocence. Settling down beside the white cat, I admire its fur. “But I wonder why you’re here? You look like you’re well taken care of. And no collar?” Hesitantly reaching out, I double check that there is no collar hidden in its long fur. “Don’t think so. I’ll let you stay the night,” I concede. “But tomorrow you’ve got to find your way back home, ok?”

The cat swivels its head to look at me, looking offended that I would even say such a thing. It lets out a woeful mewl.

“You’re lost, aren’t you?” Another mewl. “Huh.”

Running my hands through its long fur, I lean my head against the wall, watching the evening turn darker and darker. The cat also joins me in my silent watch, never moving an inch as it emits a soft pur.

“I’m lost, too.” The words tumble from my mouth, a little broken. I keep my eyes ahead, watching the outside as though it will disappear at any given moment.

From the corner of my eye I see a bundle of white fur scooting toward me until the cat lumbers up into my lap. Chuckling through the unshed tears, I sniffle and adjust so we’re both comfortable.

“Should I call you ‘L’ for lost?” I ask abestmindely. I nearly jolt out of my skin when the cat hisses up at me. “Ok, ok. You’re a lady, I get it. What about ‘Elle’? You know, e-l-l-e. That’s like a princess name. Very pretty. We’ll be the only ones that know what it really means. ‘Elle’ for lost.”

I receive no further objections.

Snuggling down into the sofa, I keep my eyes open for as long as I can until they drift shut against my will.

✂

When I awake, the world is still dark. Not unusual, considering that I tend to wake up around this time everyday, but something is off-

“Elle!”

The cat in question jumps off my lap, bolting toward the door. Groaning, I rub at the back of my neck.

“Good morning. What time is it?” A quick peek at my phone that’s nearly dead has me groaning a second time. It’s already time to get up. Waddling toward the bathroom, a loud meow makes me pause.

“What?” Elle scratches a little at the door, giving me a withering gaze. “Oh. Right.” I hurry over to open the door. “Well, thanks for visiting, feel free- aaand she’s gone.”

Laughing quietly to myself, I head into the bathroom to get ready. Making sure to not even look at the mirror until I’ve scrubbed my face, I get straight to it.

I’m nearly running late when I finally leave my apartment, but thankfully the shop isn’t far from here. It allows me to walk there most mornings.

The world is still asleep as I walk down the street, admiring the dull grays and blues of the early morning. There’s a hint of a chill in the air, but it’s nothing that a brisk walk won’t take care of.

It’s in these moments of quiet that I feel like the world is pressing down on me so heavily. Unafraid of people gawking and seeing my cut thread, I let my hands hang out of my pockets.

There’s nothing to be afraid of this early in the morning. It’s only when the sun begins to rise is when trouble begins to stir up. So I take advantage of the peace that settles over me as I make my way to work. No doubt my shoulders will resent me a bit today as I spent all of my free time yesterday beating dough.

As the sleepy world continues in its quiet vigil, my thoughts return to the exchange I had with Chung-hei a couple of days ago.

“You told me you wouldn’t wish that upon anyone.”

Chung-hei sighs, suddenly looking utterly exhausted. “I was foolish. It sucked, of course it did. Suddenly I had a target on my back. But that’s not the point.”

“Then what-”

“The only way I was able to get through that and am still able to, is because of the people I have surrounding me. I have you! I have Namjoon! As far as I’m concerned, that’s all I really need. It was difficult, but I learned to quit worrying so much about what other people expected or wanted from me. I know who I love, and that’s all that matters.”

“Good morning sleepy-head.”

Nearly jumping into the street, I can’t help but yell a little as Chung-hei appears before me. She’s standing in front of the shop, a sly smile on her face.

“What are you doing here?” I ask, clutching my chest. “Why are you trying to scare me so much?”

My friend laughs. “It’s too fun, honestly. What? I can’t come to visit you at work anymore?”

“Weren’t you just here a couple of days ago?”

Chung-hei clears her throat. “Ah. Right.” She rubs at her arms. “Should we go inside, then? Fire up the oven? It’s chilly.”

Giving her a long look, I glance down at my thread. Despite being fully aware of my decision, it still shocks me a bit whenever I see the frayed end. Still a dull red, the thread looks so out of place now.

“Sure, I guess.” I grab my key out of my pocket, heading toward the front door. “Actually, I could use some help. I think I nearly beat the life out of some dough yesterday, I can hardly move my arms now.”

“Yeah. Namjoon can help.”

I stop with the door halfways open. “What do you-” Glancing over my shoulder, I nearly lose all ability to speak as I watch my friend rounding the corner of the building with none other than Kim Namjoon in tow.

He’s taller than I imagined.

And somehow able to make me what to run for the hills.

I stare at the man, forgetting all sort of courtesy or manners as he looks down at the ground sheepishly. Slowly, I turn to my friend.

“What.”

Chung-hei has the good sense to look a little apologetic. “I...you never got to meet him.”

I stare at her a moment longer, struggling to read whatever emotions are in her eyes. My heart catches in my throat. “He knows, doesn’t he.”

At this, Namjoon looks up with wide eyes. He opens his mouth, but I beat him to it.

“Don’t even try to lie,” I hiss out. “I’ve known your soulmate for much longer than you have, and I can tell when she’s trying to fix all my problems. Looks like she brought some help from the outside this time.”

Namjoon’s mouth snaps shut, but he doesn’t lower his gaze. I turn back to Chung-hei, who looks like she’s fighting against chewing me out for insulting her soulmate. Despite feeling a little bad for being so rude, I can’t help the anger that boils inside me.

My best friend, I realize, is no longer my confidant. It’s something I thought of before. Once we found our soulmates, it was only a matter of time before those roles shifted. However it doesn’t stop the pain that comes with seeing it firsthand.

The urge to turn and lock them out of the shop is overwhelming, but I stand still for a moment longer. The blue of the early morning is turning gray, almost matching the dark circles under Namjoon’s eyes. I see now just how much he must have gone through to get here.

Regardless of the circumstances, I still cherish my friendship with Chung-hei. Years of experiences and heartbreak can’t get washed away so easily.

“Can you work the dough?” I ask a little roughly, fighting against the lump in my throat. Namjoon blinks, looking shocked.

“Ah, see. I told you she’d come around.” Chung-hei drawls, grinning at me. I can’t quite find it in me to return her smile just yet. “I’ll help him,” she promises.

Sighing, I nod. “Come in, then. I hope you can talk and work at the same time. I have a feeling you prepared a speech.”

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itsclydebitches · 4 years

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RWBY Recaps: Volume 8 “Refuge”

Happy Saturday, everyone! Welcome to week two of… fourteen? Is that how many episodes we’ve got this Volume? Man, we’re going to be here for a while.

There’s a ton to unpack in “Refuge,” but as promised I want to delve into the opening first. Given the scattered, symbolic nature of our intro I think it’s easiest to just chuck out observations in list form. I’ll segue back into cohesive recapping in a moment.

So, what have we got?

The glitching between a happy, whole Atlas and the burning wreckage we’re now dealing with. That works well given both Atlas’ tech-focus culture and the ways that tech has led to some of our biggest tragedies (hijacked army, framing Penny, etc.)

Ruby looks scared and is standing behind the rest of her team, separated from them by the title. I’m not really feeling that theme so far though, given Yang’s incredibly weak challenge, Ruby’s immediate forgiveness (during her talk with Penny), and the fact that she’s still working with half the team who vocally support her, particularly Nora. Unless something drastic changes, the idea of Ruby being the outsider here is silly.

We get shots of the girls with their past selves superimposed over their bodies and weapons. I like the message here—they carry those versions of themselves with them—just not how it’s contrasted with Ironwood’s image of an earlier Atlas now burning. So that’s all he is now? Everyone gets to embody their growth except for him? His past is erased to focus solely on our current predicament? I’m not picking up any redemption flags here…

Robyn’s hand reaches down towards Clover’s badge, which then circles to show off the Ace Ops. The final image contrasts an angry Harriet with a defeated Qrow. At least, I hope they’re contrasts. It’s going to read as absurd if they somehow end up working together after Qrow helped get her leader killed.

This morphs into Qrow alone who sits, devastated, until Robyn offers him a hand up and they both smile. I’m not a fan of this symbolism after the prison scene we got this episode. It’s like Qrow might have thought about his choices until Robyn’s anger reminded him that, oh yeah, he can be angry at Ironwood instead. These two teaming up, when their last team-up led to a death, is worrisome to say the least.

We get our horrifying image of Salem looming over Oscar as he clutches his head. The group’s weapons fall. This makes sense given this episode’s kidnapping and the team’s sheer inability to do anything to stop it.

Jaune stands determined—also makes sense with his trend of giving “pep talks”—while Ren and Nora stand apart, facing opposite directions. Nora looks back though.

Paralleling them are Winter and Weiss who also face opposite directions. This is becoming a common visual theme: Harriet and Qrow, Nora and Ren, Winter and Weiss. Here though, Weiss looks determinedly ahead while Winter stares down at her feet, unsure. Ugh, I just know they’re going to have her betray Ironwood too.

We get a brief glimpse of Whitley and Willow, not a whole lot to go on. Then we see Salem turning her chess pieces into grimm—literally changing the game—while Ironwood’s white pieces are turned to dust. I could make a quip about how white is supposed to go first, but the initial move was made thousands of years before Ironwood existed and thus he never stood a chance, certainly not when his own allies are actively working against him… but I won’t lol

Watts is smiling at a terminal while at his back Pietro works at his. More opposites. Pietro’s reflection looks to Penny even as his body continues to work, his heart contrasting his head. Penny, in turn, looks upset as her reflection flinches at something off screen and the glass cracks. Watts hacking her, perhaps?

We see the new teams as a cherry blossom (I think?) floats across the screen. It melts in Ren’s hand while escaping Nora’s. Honestly, I’m not sure what to make of that just yet.

Ruby and Yang share a look—undermining their supposed conflict this volume. Couldn’t we have gotten sister unity over the last three years instead?—and a fight against grimm starts up. It freezes as Cinder walks through it, hopefully implying that the group’s attention is on the wrong threat. While they concern themselves with low-level grimm, Salem and her allies are walking free and wreaking havoc.

Then Cinder screams and clutches her grimm arm as things go up in flames. I hope that’s not a death flag given that we’ve teased her death twice already and we only just got a glimpse at her backstory. Also, I think it’s worth mentioning here that there’s a “Summer is the Hound” theory gaining traction which, frankly, I think is 100% unsubstantiated. It’s a fun crack theory, but not something I’m inclined to take seriously until we get some actual evidence behind it. There is, however, potential evidence for people becoming grimm in general: Salem falling into the pool and Cinder receiving that arm. That’s not much though. So while I’m far from convinced that the Hound was once human—let alone that it was Summer—there is something to the theory that Salem may be able to control Cinder via her arm like she controls other grimm. After all, she knew Cinder was alive despite everyone else thinking she’d perished. They seem to have some sort of connection that hasn’t been explained yet and now that Cinder has willingly walked back into Salem’s clutches, she may not be able to walk out.

There are shots of all our other villains, the Lamp and the Staff reflected in Salem’s eyes, and Jinn’s blue smoke, perhaps suggesting that we’ll see her again, or the entity residing in the Staff (if they exist).

Atlas glitches back to normal—a false victory?—before the ice breaks and Team RWBY falls into the darkness below. Volume 3 vibes all around. There’s light above them emanating from the Staff, but as Ruby reaches for it grimm arms circle and pull her deeper. I hope this means that the group will suffer the defeat we need to keep Salem as a legitimate threat, but we had very similar imagery back in Volume 6 and they made it out of that situation just fine, so.

“Happy Ever After” glitches into “Happy? Never Again.” Which isn’t ominous or anything. We finally end on the classic RWBY image of Crescent Rose buried in the snow underneath the shattered moon.

On the whole I think the opening is strong and I like a lot of the symbolism in it, though I do question how much will actually end up being relevant to the story. My only gripes are that there are too many different styles going on—it feels like three or four different Volume openings slammed together—and the fact that it also feels overly long. I don’t think it’s actually any longer than our Volume 7 opening, but it seems that way to me, perhaps because of those varying styles breaking things up.

So that’s what we’ll be watching for the next twelve weeks! Let’s move onto the actual episode.

We open on the image of Clover’s bloody badge in Qrow hand, the same one we got in the trailer. I theorized last recap that we’d be getting the rest of our trailer/promo material this week and I was almost entirely correct in that. This moment, retrieving the bikes, fighting off the grimm, Watts getting hit, Oscar carried away… all we’re missing are some eye closeups and Nora powering up her hammer. As said, it makes me nervous for what the rest of the Volume holds. I can’t decide whether the footage wasn’t ready to be included in promo materials that early, or if RT is just determined not to give us any information past the first two episodes…

Regardless, this is supposed to be a moment of grief and all I could focus on was Qrow’s hand. Specifically, the lack of detail in it. On the whole, I’ve been very happy with the engine upgrade and I quite like RWBY’s animation now, but a closeup here draws too much attention to how, sometimes, they’re just not animating their characters in a way that looks natural. Where is Qrow’s wrist? Why is his palm perfectly smooth? Stylistically that’s usually fine, but when given the chance to stare at it you realize how odd it looks.

Says the woman whose own drawing skills suck but, ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

But we’re talking about the important bits in this episode! Out of frame Robyn is heard yelling, “This is your fault. You realize that, don’t you?” We’re meant to think that she’s telling Qrow this, especially with how he’s bent guiltily over the badge, until we cut to reveal Jacques right next to them.

I wish Robyn was saying all that to Qrow. It would mean that she was ignoring her own responsibility in Clover’s death, but at least it would have started an arc where Qrow has to grapple with what he did. Not the awful moment that’s coming up.

Before that though, Jacques claims that he’s the “victim” here who was “duped.” His hands may not be clean, but “at least I’m not a murderer.” Look, I’m not here to absolve Jacques of anything. The guy is an absolute shit stain on the Remnant world. However, he’s right in his overall point even if his words are BS. Meaning, Jacques is not a victim and he is a murderer, but he is not the one responsible for Clover’s death. Robyn has plenty of things to be furious at him for, but this is not one of them. Ironically, here we have Jacques functioning as the kind of villain the show wants Ironwood to be. He is a murderer because the company he runs exploits faunus and forces them to work in dangerous conditions (see: the death of Ilia’s parents). He is culpable because he a) had control over these conditions and b) has full knowledge of their flaws. He’s a racist who cares more about money than lives. His informed choices then led directly to deaths. Ironwood? Not anywhere near the same thing. Overlooking the “Omg Salem is here and I have to do something about it” context, he did not try to arrest Robyn. He did not force Qrow to resist arrest, or Robyn to get involved, or Qrow to break Clover’s aura, or Tyrian to stab him in the chest. Ironwood had no control or knowledge of these events, so he is not responsible for Clover’s death in the way that Jacques is responsible for the faunus’. RWBY is giving the right arc to the wrong character.

Robyn then insists that Qrow didn’t kill anyone. He didn’t strike the blow, but he certainly helped! Look, Qrow is one of my favorites, but I’m not about to claim that he didn’t have a hand in getting his friend killed. I seriously can’t believe the show is ignoring this.

We then segue into some, uh, questionable dialogue choices. Jacques is a “snake with a mustache”? Sorry, I can’t take Robyn seriously at the best of times, but definitely not when she’s tossing out laugh worthy insults like that. Nevertheless, this “snake with a mustache” is guilty because he “helped that man tear us all apart.” That man being Watts.

…why are they all in what amounts to the same cell with barriers dividing them? I suppose we could make the argument that they’re being held in some secret facility, given that they’re in this dark, garage-esque space with no lights and no other prisoners. Some sort of maximum security setup that... doesn’t have any other inmates and no additional security? Hmm. Then again, the power is supposed to be out and I don’t really trust RWBY’s ability to craft consistent backgrounds. I feel like they’re packed together merely because that’s plot convenient, not because it makes any sense in world.

Watts looks pretty comfortable in there though and Jacques is likewise full of confidence. He says that by now Whitley will have already called their lawyers to get him out. Now, non-imprisoned people know that the apocalypse is currently underway, as Joanna will later put it. No one is lawyer-ing at the moment, but it will be crucial to see whether Whitley is trying to get Jacques out despite the chaos. How faithful is he to his abuser? Can Willow start undermining Jacques’ influence now that they’re alone?

Jacque’s confidence thoroughly pisses Robyn off and she screams, punching the barrier between them. Keep this in mind for a second.

A moment later two guards show up to take Watts somewhere and… oh no. Please don’t tell me Ironwood is going to team up with him now that Penny has written him off? I know the guy has (presumably) already killed someone, and he must assume he’s killed Oscar, so we’re definitely in full villain territory despite the stupidity of it… but please don’t start working with Salem’s henchmen too. You know what? I’m not going to assume the worst until I actually see it. RWBY gives me enough nonsense as it is lol.

What I really want to talk about is that hit.

I’m somewhat concerned by a lot of the fandom’s reaction to this moment in comparison to another. Who remembers Volume 6? That scene when Qrow punched Ozpin directly into a tree? Now, I’m not keeping track of who says what when—this is a generalized reaction—but I saw a lot of posts defending that action. There were numerous justifications for the punch, but the three big ones were: 1. These characters are fighters and they’re used to it, 2. These characters have aura so it’s not that bad, and 3. Ozpin totally deserved it. Now, the problems here are that 1a. I don’t think punching someone when they’re crying on their knees is justified, whether they’re a fighter or not, 1b. Qrow was likewise punching Oscar, a totally innocent kid, 2. We had established earlier that Oscar was having trouble remembering to activate his aura and didn’t seem to have it active then (no ripple effect, he’s rubbing his jaw afterwards), and 3. Ozpin’s crimes are, as explored on this blog, not nearly the horrific actions that the story and fandom would like to paint them as. The point is that despite all this, lots and lots of fans said it was totally okay to punch Ozpin&Oscar. What’s the big deal? they asked. Now, lots and lots of fans—mostly when the trailer first dropped—say it’s not okay to punch Watts. Despite the fact that he’s also a fighter. Despite the fact that his aura has broken. Despite the fact that he’s not currently a threat (seated on the bed/Ozpin on his knees). Despite the fact that he’s responsible for helping Salem try to take over the world. If we were to make a case for who deserves to get hit, Watts is a WAY stronger candidate in my opinion, yet he’s the one who a lot of fans are scrambling to defend. Why? I assume it’s because hitting him feeds into the generalized police state/dictator theme Ironwood has been thrown into. It helps villainize Ironwood for fans to go, “Poor Watts. He’s done horrific things but no one deserves to face police brutality.” I agree. The only problem is that a lot of those same fans seem to have gone, “Ozpin can get over it. He deserved to be hit! I would have done a whole lot worse to him…” So is the difference only that one attacker is a military professional and the other is… a huntsmen professional who soon after that scene starts working for the military? Yeah. The show continually ignores that the group aren’t the rogue heroes they pretend to be. They worked under Ironwood for weeks, if not months.

The show isn’t clear about its morals and neither are the fans, with both changing tactics whenever it helps blame the character they already don’t like. When Robyn punches the barrier, do we really think she wouldn’t have hit Jacques if given the chance? Why would it be heroic for her to hit the Evil Man but it’s not okay for the grunt minor character to hit the other Evil Man? These morals don’t change just because you like Robyn and don’t like Ironwood.

Jumping ahead for a moment, we get another example of this hypocrisy with Joanna. A reporter is informing the people that the military seems to have stopped evacuations and there is an unheard number of grimm hanging out overhead, both things that are objective facts. He’s reporting as he should, sticking to what’s known and provable, and thus is, notably, not some lackey of Ironwood’s who is hastily presented as evil. Yet Joanna treats him like he is. She snatches the microphone from him and, when he starts to protest, threatens him with her weapon. After she’s done hijacking the feed, she shoves him on her way out.

Look at how scared this guy is. These are our heroes? This back and forth doesn’t work. Prior to his random killing spree, Ironwood took his fear and frustration out on some furniture, yet the show acted as if he was hurting real people. The mere possibility that he might use violence and intimidation to achieve heroic goals—getting Amity up/escaping Salem—was enough to label him as an antagonist because the understanding was that you can’t act like that no matter what your intentions are. Yet our current heroes can use as much violence and intimidation as they want to achieve their own heroic goal of warning the people? Do we think the story will encourage us to be critical of the group if they start beating up a bunch of Atlas goons to reach the access point? Of course not. And it’s that flip-flopping that’s the problem. Your heroes have to function differently than the villains in order for them to be heroes. Under that logic, our heroes haven’t acted like heroes since mid-Volume 6 and it’s getting harder and harder to watch.

Especially when we take the scene before this into account. Yup, we’ve still got Qrow gunning for Ironwood. Robyn bemoans the fact that they can’t do anything, to which Qrow replies, “We can do something. We can kill the man who put us here.” I… feel like I shouldn’t start repeating myself given how long this recap is—we’ll be here for forever lol—BUT I hope everyone reading this understands precisely how little this makes sense. How god awful a choice it is. I mean c’mon. Robyn attacked Clover unprovoked, Qrow teamed up with Tyrian, he broke Clover’s aura, Tyrian murdered him, Salem is here, and now he’s sitting in a cell with Watts and Jacques… but Ironwood is the guy he wants to kill? REALLY, QROW? THAT’S WHO YOU’RE GOING TO GO AFTER? I really can’t with this show sometimes. RWBY, put your clown makeup on.

We get a cut to Ironwood’s image just so there’s no confusion about who Qrow wants to help kill next and Joanna threatens that reporter who, you know, is also a citizen in need of help and protection… Her “General Ironwood has abandoned you, but we have not” sounds absolutely ridiculous when we just watched her intimidating this guy to get what she wants. ‘You can trust us! Unless we randomly decide we don’t like you.’ I have other things to say about Yang calling out that racist woman later on, but she gets props for helping her regardless. Honestly, I don’t get that sense from the cast very often: that they’d help you even if they don’t agree with you. They certainly didn’t offer that to Ozpin, Ironwood, or the Ace Ops.

There’s a very long shot of a scared toddler staring out the window, just to hammer home how young and innocent Mantle is. Seriously, pay attention to our imagery: Mantle is scared children in homes, cute children fist-bumping Jaune, family photos lost in the street, a stuffed toy run over by hoverbikes. It’s meant to evoke a general sense of domesticity and, again, innocence. Meanwhile, Atlas is only shown via Ironwood and Jacques, the villains. Where are the families living up in the sky? The children? The humanizing details? Our racist woman is an outlier who is quickly silenced by Yang. The rest of Mantle is characterized as victims: scared women, worried fathers, the faunus huddling together in the slums, even another racist who, while an asshole, is supposed to have a point about things like the embargo. Which is all true. These characters are all of these things, it’s just that they’re not unique in this. All this exists above too—from those families, to the faunus slave labor, to the beloved objects that remind you of someone’s worth—but they’re ignored to provide a simplistic look at Atlas as the villain.

Throughout this entire episode the group tosses out snide remarks about how “They” don’t care about you and it’s just… they who? The other thousands of innocents who have nothing to do with Ironwood? The hundreds of Mantle citizens you already evacuated? The redeemable people like Winter and Whitley? The group fights alongside a Schnee who was one of the most vocal racists a year and a half ago, yet writes off the entirety of Atlas as the bad guys. What a mess.

As Joanna’s voiceover finishes, we cut to Yang’s group going after Pietro’s tech. I already covered this scene in our promo material, but to summarize here: horrible tone. Absolutely nonsensical given the situation. Salem is here and Yang is giggling over bikes. In fact, the tone is off for most of the episode (our end being the wonderful exception): Yang’s joy ride, antics with the Mantle citizens, Blake poking fun at Weiss, the tube scene… none of it fits the context of the series’ big bad here to kill everyone. Arguments along the lines of, “But it can’t be doom and gloom all the time” or “This is a brilliant parallel to Volume 3 with happy times heralding tragedy” don’t erase the fact that our cast isn’t taking this threat seriously. Last week Weiss’ “We’re never going to sleep again” moment worked because it’s humor in the context of how bad everything is. All of this? It’s just the group goofing off despite supposedly being in mortal danger. This?

This doesn’t read well. I’d argue this scene is even worse in context due to lines like “The others are definitely missing out.” In our promo material I assumed that the group just split for the sake of splitting and they were, in fact, just missing out on something cool. But we’ve since learned that they split due to a fundamental disagreement about how to help people, a split Ruby compared to Salem’s plans, a split that Yang started! Why is she now acting like their separation is a funny “missing out” moment? It’s like if half your friend group decided to go to the movies while the other half went to a party with an unexpectedly good DJ. The movie-goers are people who are “missing out,” not the group who went off to take over a military base and everyone left angry.

Keep in mind that Ozpin is also back. Every fun times scene with Oscar in it has the added problem of Ozpin hanging back, not saying anything, not acknowledged, still a secret.

The other issue I brought up weeks back was the lack of grimm. Why are the streets deserted? Shouldn’t the army be overrunning the city? Well, turns out that there’s no army because… Salem just hasn’t bothered to send it into the city yet? When Jaune and Ren take out the low-level grimm Oscar asks if they’ve “already pushed this far in,” to which Yang replies, “No, I think those are from last night.” A few minutes later, last night’s grimm change to new non-Salem grimm as Oscar observes, “It’s the negativity. Salem’s forces aren’t moving in, but it’s enough to attract the stragglers.” Later still, Joanna asks, “…grimm are circling out there. What are they waiting for?” GOOD QUESTION. We don’t know, but it’s real convenient, isn’t it? RWBY redeems itself a bit at the end of this episode with that Hound grimm, but I’m still calling it out for having Salem hold off long enough for the group to evacuate pretty much all of Mantle and infiltrate the base. That’s real nice of her. As the characters keep pointing out, it would be a staggeringly different situation if they were overrun with grimm right now, huh? Kind of like the situation Ironwood (rightfully) assumed they’d be dealing with.

Again, I’m so glad our Big Bad is kind enough to let the heroes do everything they need to before lifting a finger to attack them.

RWBY seems to be setting up a, “See! There was always time to evacuate the city!” accusation even though no one could have known that and it makes zero logical sense. Salem brings an army with her so she can not use the army against Atlas? Right…

This all segues directly into our other promo scene. My initial comments still stand: the tone doesn’t work, the lack of urgency doesn’t work (Jaune playing with the kid, Oscar politely knocking on doors), the low-level grimm are not a threat, that shield is useless against anything not driven by plot convenience, and it’s weird for Jaune to be yelling, “Heads up!” when there’s no one in front of him. As said, this moment really doesn’t sit well given everything that’s going on. I had hoped that it would read better when seen in the episode itself, but that’s sadly not the case.

After Ren one-shots the grimm Jaune suggests that they use his amplified semblance to get everyone to the crater safely. Ren seems less than pleased about this, but agrees. Right now, it’s easy to say that he’s in a bad mood because Nora is mad at him, but what about the Volume before? Where’s this underlying tension coming from? I can come up with lots of theories, but at some point the show needs to confirm something. The longer we go not explaining what’s wrong with Ren, the less faith I have that it will make sense when we get it.

We see the racist woman upset that they have to go live with the “animals in the slums” rather than going up to Atlas. As said, I like that Yang helps her despite clearly hating the woman, I also think her criticism holds up well (ignoring the simplified ‘They abandoned you’ narrative). The only thing that bugs me is RWBY continually presenting racism as a problem to throw a band-aid on and then pat yourself on the back for ‘solving.’ Racist drunk says shit? Toss him in the trash! Racist woman says shit? Remind her that her survival depends on you! It’s not that these responses aren’t earned, but that we’re given them instead of an actual arc that tackles the complexities of this issue. I mean, Blake has abandoned the White Fang and we’ve barely mentioned the faunus slave labor in Atlas. When they head to the dust facility it’s conveniently run by bots instead of faunus. Can you imagine if Weiss Schnee walked into a group of exploited minorities, hoping to use them to access a military base? But of course, there’s nothing like that. RWBY ignores the actual issues for these simple solutions. Heroes just attack/threaten racists and then it all goes away. Yay.

The other problem with this scene is that we learn the crater is the slums. Um… what? Hold on, Joanna made it sound like it’s a separate place, potentially inhabited by grimm, yet it’s the same area Oscar was in last episode? How is that area warmer? This makes no sense to me.

Also, ha, the crater below Atlas apparently houses all the “animals” that Team RWBYJNR is very protective of. I’m waiting for them to do something that messes with the Staff—Ruby reaching for it in the opening—Atlas crashes down on a whole city of exploited minorities, and then Ironwood is blamed for it somehow. Can’t wait for that episode.

So the group starts making their way there and hark! An Ozpin! I’m always thrilled to hear him, even if he’s treated just terribly by the show. Oscar is at the back of the group and comments that “It should not be this hard just getting people to cooperate.” Except… they are cooperating? Oscar, you are watching them cooperate right in front of you. That one woman might grumble a bit, but she hasn’t made a move or said a word about not doing what you say. Where did this complaint come from? Another example of RWBY insisting something is there when it simply isn’t. More importantly, Ozpin responds:

“And yet, it’s becoming something I’m increasingly concerned about.”

“You know, I really don’t need your additional comments right now.”

Then why did you comment out loud, Oscar? What, do you normally talk to yourself like that? You were clearly speaking to Ozpin! Don’t criticize him for responding. I hate traps like that.

Ozpin immediately says that Oscar has every right to be upset and apologizes for leaving… it’s not apologizing for his entire existence like I wrote on the bingo board, but it’s close. Who’s surprised that Ozpin is the first to offer (another) apology? Not me. Oscar corrects him with, “I’m upset you came back!”

Okay. Here’s the thing. I like the idea of Oscar rejecting Ozpin both because he’s taken over his life and because Oscar has suffered horribly due to Ozpin’s presence (punched, slammed into walls, kidnapping attempts, etc.) That makes sense, it’s actually morally complex, and it’s great groundwork for character growth. The only problem is… this came out of nowhere. Oscar was shown accepting this new life when he left the farm. Then again when he insisted on fighting Hazel. Then again all the times he’s been told he’s acting like Ozpin and seems to accept that just fine. He’s clearly pleased with this new badass self he’s got going on—he even says as much—yet doesn’t want to acknowledge Ozpin as the catalyst for all this positive change. Okay, that’s something we could still work through, but what about the group? Fans are already theorizing that this is why Oscar is keeping Ozpin a secret, because he’s scared of how the group will react, punishing him to get at Ozpin again, and though he 100% has reasons for thinking that will happen, Oscar hasn’t shown that fear before now. Qrow punches him? Bonding moment with Ruby. Jaune attacks him? I made you all dinner. They all smile over his inevitable death/disappearance? He smiles back. Yang is the most scream-y? Happy to have her using him as an armrest. The group continually ignores him and treats him with suspicion? Not a peep of protest. It’s horrifying that Oscar accepted how the group previously treated him, but he did accept it. Where did this fear come from if we haven’t seen it in response to the harm done towards him? Just as importantly, can’t we have an arc where Oscar is mad at the team some too? I’ll admit that the general premise of blaming Ozpin makes sense for the traumatized fourteen-year old, but after two years of blaming Ozpin for everything… aren’t we sick of this? His team has actively hurt him, outside of Ozpin’s ability to prevent, yet Ozpin is the one who takes all the heat for their behavior. “I felt like I was actually part of the team” should lead to the realization of, “Hey, Yang shouldn’t yell at both of us for things outside of our control” not, “Hey, you should stay away forever because others have decided they don’t like you.”

All of this following Ozpin saving Oscar’s life in the airship. Then saving his life again after Ironwood shot him. Our heroes are real grateful, huh. I hate that RWBY is taking another fave and doing them dirty, though I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised.

Ozpin also mentions his magic—would be nice if Oscar brought that up with the team!—and that he is now “recollecting my longest held memories.” He…is? When? Don’t you think that’s something important to show us? We keep being told that “the merge” is occurring but not shown what that actually means. Seriously, when did Oscar get slammed with that many memories??

Please just use the aura machine and give Ozpin a robot body. RT doesn’t have the chops for writing this situation.

As they continue on towards the crater Ren snaps at Jaune about not needing a “pep talk.” Jaune looks annoyed at the attitude which, fair. It says a lot about the writing the last few years that Jaune is the character I’m least frustrated with lol. Likely because they haven’t had him do anything lately which, given that he’s not one of the title characters and our cast is bloated enough as it is, I’m still totally fine with.

Ozpin concludes the scene with, “We need to find a way to work together. Not just the two of us, all of us” with the camera panning up to look at Atlas. I’m glad someone isn’t ready to throw Ironwood under the bus. Given how the group reacted to him sparing Lionheart’s name though, I don’t think they’ll follow Ozpin in his forgiveness. If anything, I expect this perspective to just be more hate fuel.

We move to Ruby’s group which now includes May. Woohoo! She still hasn’t gotten half the screen time as Joanna, but I’m really glad she’s here. In fact, between a useful semblance and that adorable courtesy, I love her already. Despite, you know, helping the team break into the base and all that. Everyone has their flaws lol.

She also frames the Amity plan as getting the world “talking again.” Why is everything presented like a fun romp rather than avoiding death via Salem? Absolutely terrible tone this episode.

The group hilariously waltzes past a sign labeled AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY and enters the dust facility with the bots I mentioned earlier. This I do like. My hypothetical scenario incorporating the racism issue aside, I like that Weiss is using her knowledge and connections to further the mission, rather than something conveniently dropping into the group’s lap. Like Amity suddenly being ready for launch…So yeah, it makes sense that Weiss would know of a potential way in.

Sending someone up through the tubes though? Ehhh… I know they have aura and everything—and that Zwei was once mailed—but are we sure this is safe?? Doesn’t matter because Nora sends Weiss through with a misplaced button press. Good thing that was the tube heading to the base. Too bad Weiss is heading to a guarded military base alone. It should have been May going first with her semblance activated, but no. Chuck this onto the ever increasing ‘Bad Tone’ pile. There should not be giggles over Weiss being in that level of danger, especially with everything else going on. Ruby’s expression is the only one on point.

Before Weiss is yeeted off though, Penny and Ruby have a talk wherein Ruby lies her ass off. Penny says, “I do not like it when friends fight” and when Ruby starts talking about Yang she corrects her, revealing that she’s actually thinking about Winter and Ironwood. “They were our friends.”

I was ready to sing Penny’s praises and really, she still gets credit for being the only one who has acknowledged this, but her opinion is (once again) overridden by Ruby’s. Penny goes, “but then the Ace Ops attacked you” which Ruby doesn’t bother to correct. How would Penny know otherwise? The only information she has about that battle is what Ruby has told her, but Ruby is lying via omission here. The Ace Ops never attacked her. They very explicitly refused to start a fight. Ruby attacked them. Then when Penny is upset that Ironwood said “people were going to die because of me,” Ruby takes her by the shoulders and angrily insists, “That was a lie and he was only saying it to hurt you.”

Ruby… you’re the one lying. You know damn well Ironwood didn’t just say that to hurt Penny. Oh yeah, the general trying to keep a kingdom alive from an immortal witch is preoccupied with hurting Penny’s feelings for no reason other than being evil. That makes sense. More importantly, Ironwood is right. Look, I’m by no means blaming Penny for anything. She fought off Cinder, took the power when there was no other choice, and has now gotten caught up in Ruby’s plans which include incredibly misleading information that Penny has no reason to question. She’s doing her best and deserves that hug. But that doesn’t mean she lacks responsibility here. Ironwood needs Penny to evacuate. Penny—listening to Ruby—won’t help him. Ergo, if something happens to the people up in Atlas Penny will be partly responsible. If I have the key to a door with lots of people trapped behind it as a fire rages, and I refuse to open that door, I have indeed allowed a lot of people to die. As Penny says, she didn’t want this responsibility… but she has it. She has to deal with it. Too bad she’s with Ruby who encourages her to ignore it instead, insisting that nothing bad that happens after their choices could in any way be connected to them. Kind of like Qrow ignoring his own actions against Clover.

Because that’s the takeaway from this scene. Penny had empathy for their friends and then Ruby talked her out of it. She never even acknowledges that those were indeed seven friends that she betrayed. That’s horrible.

What happened to Ruby? I used to love this girl.

Continuing our tone issue, Nora is watching this show like her favorite soap is on. Okay then.

Weiss goes up the tube and then we cut to Fiona saying that… the Mantle police are helping them evacuate? So the military is bad, but the police are good? I need to stop trying to make sense of RWBY’s allegory.

When Yang and the others return Fiona makes an innocent comment about being worried about how they’d fare without the rest of their team. Yang is pissed.

Ah, so we’re back to her giving allies attitude for random observations. Remember the anger at Marrow for suggesting she and Blake try different team-ups? Now here Yang is, in a different team-up, doing quite well. Funny how we never acknowledge who first suggested that. Now, Fiona reveals a totally logical worry that losing four fighters might make a difference when fending off grimm, but Yang is poised to be angry at everyone, about everything, all the time. Which I get is something that a lot of fans like. I’ve already seen a couple of posts praising RT for letting Robyn and Yang be angry without consequences because women often can’t do that and, fair. That is indeed one way to read it. My problem is that their anger is actually irrational, not just called as much because we women are ~emotional~. Their anger isn’t justified: Robyn because she had a significant hand in all this nonsense (that she’s ignoring) and Yang because it’s clear Fiona means no harm here. This is anger that needs to be called out, not ignored because yay women expressing emotion. That kind of defense is reserved for a woman’s justified anger that needs to be expressed without criticism, especially in a narrative that tries to undermine her perspective. But what has Fiona done to Yang? Nothing. More importantly, the show has yet to teach Yang a better coping mechanism than lashing out at people, be it with her fists, words, or angry glares. Yang has been through the ringer and it makes sense that she’s angry, but that doesn’t mean she gets a lifelong pass to treat those around her badly.

Anyway, Joanna says they have a lot of people to keep warm even though the crater was supposed to be warmer? And they’re stealing dust? So what are they using it for it not heat? We’re not seeing any difference here and frankly all the civilians should be dead by now. Or at least entering hypothermia. (Give me that conflict: how do you keep people safe when they’re not all conveniently up for walking all the way to the slums?) Joanna also says that they’re trying to get the “Old mine shafts into a livable condition” which would take how long exactly? In fact, I’d say our timeline is already wonky. We’ve watched Yang hide the Ace Ops last Volume, fly to Winter and Penny, find the Happy Huntresses, wait around for Oscar to show up, ran off on her own at some point to scout, went to get bikes, evacuated all those people to the (far away) slums, then went back out to fight off the grimm. That had to have taken up a good chunk of the night, though it’s impossible to tell the time with Atlas’ snowy sky. I’m leaning towards a bingo mark though…

The faunus who I thought was a badger or something is… a bear I guess? He has a bear-like paw, but his nails seem too long… I honestly don’t know. But he’s Fiona’s uncle! Cute. She's off to deal with a fight that’s starting while the group goes to fight more grimm. Finally, the episode gets good.

The teamwork to take out the dragon grimm was nice, always glad to see it, but the real fight starts when two more grunts show up and then immediately run away. What could have scared them off?

The Hound. (I’m sorry, all I can think of is Game of Thrones when I write that, but it seems to be the name the fandom is adopting, so…) Remember how I said it was unlikely to be a threat on its own? I WAS WRONG. Holy shit this thing is terrifying. It snatches Oscar and in some wonderfully quick animation absolutely obliterates the kid. Oscar is thrown around like a chew toy, desperately trying to rabbit kick at this thing and it does [checks notes] absolutely nothing. I’d normally say something about our farm boy always getting the shit kicked out of him, but this scene was too good for my salt.

Then it changes shape, growing arms, and starts using Oscar as a shield. Yang can’t pull back in time and is snagged by her head, the Hound tossing her into the wall hard enough to break the stone. She’s still conscious though and warns the others about its strategy.

“But grimm aren’t that smart,” Jaune says. Maybe if you kids (Fiona keeps calling them kids) had stayed in school you would have learned that grimm get smarter with age! Oobleck knew that. Or, just as likely, this is a special Salem grimm. Hard to say at this point.

The point though is that the group is helpless in the face of this monster. I do want to emphasize this. I’ve seen a few people criticizing them for not doing enough to save Oscar and it’s like, what did you want them to do? Yang tried to attack and the grimm nearly had her hitting Oscar instead. Ren tried to attack and the grimm changed so fast his weapon was useless. Factor in that morphing—which the group has never seen before—the horror of Oscar hanging there limp, and the general fighter response of, ‘I can’t just keep attacking head on because that thing might kill me,’ and you realize the group was screwed from the start. They can’t stand up against this thing, not without a good strategy anyway, which there’s no time to think up. For the first time in years, ever since Tyrian, Salem actually made the right, villainous call.

Ren screams, “Give him back!”—which was just lovely in an angsty way—and the grimm creepily cuddles Oscar against his chest. Then he responds, “No.” Yeah, they’ve never seen that before either. Can you blame them for their shock? I’m impressed that they were on their bikes just seconds later, managing to keep the grimm in sight. That speaks to their combat experience. Not the ability to power through a situation where they’re clearly outmatched, but their ability to pick themselves back up and try again.

... Ah, so that’s why Pietro was oh so randomly making them bikes. The plot needed a way for them to keep up with a flying grimm. Got it.

My takeaway? RT should be writing horror. They’re far better at it. The animation, sound effects, voice acting, the grimm’s speech and protective instincts, that splatter of goo on Oscar’s cheek…

... stellar all around. Like the Apathy, this is the best I think RWBY has been since the lore episode of Volume 6. Granted, action sequences like this aren’t required to grapple with any of the messy morals and character consistency of other scenes, but still. If RWBY had just given me a lighthearted ‘Girls fight cartoon monsters’ show or a horror fueled ‘Girls fight monster abominations’ show, I’d have been happy. This? This is the only redeeming part of the episode. And it’s indeed one hell of a redemption. Look at this thing!

I’m not going to say it erases all the bad we got—it doesn’t—or that it likewise erases problems like Salem not using the rest of her army, but it’s a notable step in the right direction. This grimm is a threat. This grimm is a mountain the cast has to overcome. If this is the minion its master should be Everest. I still think this Volume is going down the tubes fast (it’s going the way of Weiss lol), but if it can give me more scenes like this? It might not be a total loss.

Last thing to acknowledge: What about Ozpin? I’ll admit it doesn’t look good. Given how fast he takes control he should have been able to override Oscar’s will and at least fight back a little with that spectacular magic we saw during the finale. So why didn’t he? I hope we get an in-world explanation: it happened so fast even Ozpin couldn’t do anything (shaky, but I’ll take it in a pinch), now that the merge is farther along he can no longer take control—something. Because I can easily imagine how quickly the fandom, and even the cast, will turn on him for not playing deus ex machina here. In reality, I think Ozpin didn’t take control simply because the plot needed him not to. The writers needed Oscar kidnapped so any potential out from that is conveniently forgotten… which is another knock against their writing, despite how great the scene otherwise was. The point is to take all these potential pushbacks and find a satisfying way to circumvent them, not pretend they don’t exist. RT can still save themselves here by providing that explanation later, so I hope they’re smart enough to do that. Ozpin has been blamed for everything at this point. His own kidnapping doesn’t need to be added to the list.

Also, still no word on Schrödinger's councilman. We’ve got to wait another week to see whether he’s dead or not.

Finally, let’s update the bingo card!

I’m crossing off “Ruby gives an ‘inspiring’ speech built on ignoring facts she doesn’t like” for that conversation with Penny. Yeah, it’s a speech to her alone about her worth, but Ruby mischaracterized the situation so badly I’m mad at her lol

I never thought the story would straight up just not have the grimm army attacking, so I think I’ll hold off on “Army of grimm conveniently doesn’t kill any civilians” until we see if/when it gets involved.

I’ll likewise hold off on the timeline slot until we see how bad things get…

Maria is on thin ice given that we have no idea what she’s supposedly doing while the group is off on their missions. Stay tuned.

Today we’re crossing off “Deadly cold conveniently doesn’t kill any civilians.” They should all be dropping like flies by now.

A friend pointed out that Cinder’s Cinderella flashback counts as an “Overly obvious fairy tale allusion.” In fact, I talked about how much of a shorthand that is, so that’s getting a mark.

From last week I’ve also decided to include Amity for “Retconning previous lore.” Now that the group is fully underway with their plan it reads as even more egregious that we were told it wasn’t ready.

I’ll hold off on Ozpin’s space for a while. See if he apologizes to the whole group and, if so, exactly what for.

“Oscar is finally kidnapped”—check!

Well, that’s a whole lot of headway this week. Can’t wait to see where the next episode takes us... Here’s hoping we spend a lot of time with that Hound. MVP of the episode.

Until next time! 💜

[Ko-Fi]

#rwby #rwby spoilers #rwby volume 8 #mymetas #rwby recaps

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themonkeycabal · 4 years

Text

WandaVision Ep 4 SPOILERS

Yes, spoilers,

Wherein I watch and say stuff that might or might not be worth reading.

After a little bit of a lackluster start, there was good story progress last week. An escalation of weird, which I appreciated. I'll probably have to relive it, because Disney doesn't want to let me skip the previously. Ever. Why are you the way you are, Disney?

Geraldine/Monica is made of whispery voices and swirling dust and such. Weird. She's sitting in a chair, sleeping, and apparently being reconstituted. She wakes to a hospital room but outside is chaos. Lots of yelling and people running about. There's like swirling dust or human confetti everywhere, and other people are being reconstituted left and right. Seems unusual. Not the sort of thing that normally happens in hospitals. Oh, are they being un-snapped? The great un-snappening. The un-snapapalooza. The fall of the snappocalypse. I'll stop. I guess we're in a flashback of sorts.

Dudes, Monica just like full on hip checked some dude into the boards. She didn't mean it, but, damn, that guy went flying. Nobody knows what's going on, it's madness. A doctor recognizes her and asks where she went and Monica's all "uh, what? I took a nap?" Napping and then snapping and then popping back into existence. Ain't that just the way? Oh, sad, her mom died while she was missing for five years. :(

Sentient Weapon Observation Response Division — please nobody expect me to remember that. They have a Cape Canaveral looking compound with multiple launch pads and a very large hanger smack in the middle. Gee how neat for them that they get to operate out in the open, Phil Coulson says (in my head) with a whole lot of sarcasm.

Oh, right, they called it the Blip. The Great Un-Blippening. That doesn't sound as good. What on earth with the massive monitors in the main lobby. Nobody likes watching the news that much. Monica is trying to brazenly walk through the front doors with a badge that doesn't work and wow, security guy is kind of a dick. Oh, she belongs there. Captain Monica Rambeau. Captain, good for her.

And now security dick is revealed to be even more dickish, since this is just after the Blip and she's trying to go back to work. Like, SWORD couldn't put out a memo "Be on the lookout for recently unblipped personnel. Don't be massive dicks to them when their security badges don't work, because of how they got blipped and all"? Also maybe a reorientation packet, or like a desk out front "Back from the Blip? Talk to Lt. Mandy Smith in HR about your reactivation options today!" I'm just spitballing here. I get it was chaotic, but that's no reason to let the unblipped get a rude welcome. It wasn't their fault Thanos was critically dumb.

Blip no longer sounds like a word.

Anyway, the acting director is fortunately there to meet her before she could drop her gloves and punch the security dick in the dick. Aww, Maria Rambeau is on the Wall of Valor, or whatever they call it at SWORD.

Things aren't going well at SWORD. The Blip put the hurt on the division. Their remaining astronaut trainees have chickened out. Oh, what if there was like crew up in orbit that got blipped and then when they unblipped five years later … yikes. Well, I'll allow the 'lost their nerve' may have a solid basis in horribleness that probably occurred around the Blip. I retract the 'chickened out' comment.

This is a very long walk-and-talk. Maria Rambeau built SWORD "from the ground up". Bless.

The Director has grounded Monica. Well, actually, her mom grounded her, making protocols in case vanished personnel one day returned. Lol. Though, I mean, I'd guess she'd know, what with Carol and all. "I know it's a raw deal, but there is one positive takeaway. She believed you'd come back." Awww

So, she's off to deal with some sort of missing persons case in New Jersey overseeing the loan of one of their drones for the FBI. I guess Wanda will be the missing person. Yep, she's off to Westview. Which has seen better days.

Hey! It's Agent Woo! I like you Agent Woo! Did I know he was in this? I don't remember. Randall Park's great. A happy surprise.

Hmm, he has a missing witness. So, not Wanda, then. Hmm again. Agent Woo contacted known associates, family, friends — none of them have ever heard of the witness. A mystery!

Oh and there's another wrinkle.

"Pardon me Sheriff, would you mind repeating your claim about Westview to my colleague here?"

"No such place," he says, standing next to the 'Welcome to Westview" sign.

Hmmm, puzzling. Jimmy Woo can't reach anybody listed as living in town. So, wait, the town doesn't exist, except it does, but, nobody thinks it does, so where did he get the phone records for residents? The phone company was just like "here's your records for the imaginary city of Westview, all 3,000+ residents that never existed, and yet we have the numbers and we're just not going to question that". Weird.

"So you can't reach anyone inside and everyone on the outside has some sort of selective amnesia?" That does seem to be the case, Monica. Super odd. Agent Woo is very sanguine about the whole thing. He dealt with Scott Lang, I guess after that everything else is like, 'meh'.

"Why haven't' you gone inside to investigate?" A fine question, Captain.

"Because it doesn't want me to." That's just creepy, Agent Woo. "You can feel it, too, can't you? Nobody's supposed to go in." I guess this is where the drone will come in handy. Oh, it's the little helicopter that Wanda found in the bushes in the second episode. I'm going to pretend that super advanced SWORD drones would totally look like cheap RC toy helicopters. I guess that's a disguise?

Monica wants to know why she and Agent Woo are aware that Westview exists and nobody else is. Does that mean the Sheriff was standing next to the Welcome to Westview sign and just did not see it at all? He was just hanging out in the middle of nowhere with a weirdly laconic FBI agent who kept asking about the town that very clearly wasn't just right behind them? That's a little more than amnesia.

Also, Agent Woo's hero was Elliot Ness. Of course it was.

Oh no, the drone vanished as it crossed the town line! There's an energy field around the town that looks like what happens when you push your fingers against an old monitor and get the weird pixelly rainbow. Agent Woo's all "please no touch" and Monica's all "yes, I think I'll stick my whole hand in there." And she got sucked in. Agent Woo's gotta be like "WHY DOESN'T ANYBODY EVER LISTEN TO ME?"

24 hours later. Darcy! Some sort of transport van. A trio of other suits in the back, plus Darcy. She tries to talk to one of the dudes and he's all "we're not supposed to talk to each other!" "Boy Scout leader, got it." Relax, uptight guy. Pfft, what sort of team is that? The rest give up their specialty. Aww, bless, she went into astrophysics. "We've got the full clown car." heh.

Boy Scout leader finally caving to peer pressure: "I'm a chemical engineer." Darcy: "No one cares." lol. Missed you, girlfriend!

And in 24 hours SWORD/FBI whoever have set up a little military camp. Oh a "response base". How banally euphemistic. There's like a whole bunch of agencies there, as well as Army and Air Force.

Dr. Lewis. Oh, I'm so proud. I bet Jane was over the moon. Saved from poli-sci!

Elsewhere another drone vanishes. Darcy darcys a lot at an uptight uniform who is breathing down her neck "make your assessment" and it's delightful. Darcy notices some high levels of cosmic background radiation and also something weird layered over the top of that. Hmm, she needs a tv. "An old one, like not flat." One with vacuum tubes, perhaps?

In another part of the camp, they send in a guy in a hazmat suit, down into the sewers, looking for Monica. I guess he'll be the beekeper Wanda tosses in ep 2. Jimmy Woo is not optimistic about that plan. He tells the SWORD Director all about it.

"Someone must really miss you back at Quantico." "No, sir, softball season is over." Lol.

All their high tech scanning is turning up nothing.

Uhoh, screaming. Oh, nevermind, it's the laughtrack. While everybody else was dicking around with the LIDAR, Darcy has tracked down the last tube tv in New Jersey and has tuned into the Wanda Dimension. Episode one is playing.

Darcy is understandably particularly baffled by Vision. "Look, I know it's been a crazy few years on this planet, but he's dead right? Not blipped. Dead." Poor Vision. Alas.

Director wants to know if the broadcast is realtime or a recording. Or what? Darcy's like "how tf should I know?"

Jimmy asks the good question "So you're saying the universe created a sitcom staring two Avengers?" "It's a working theory."

Now SWORD fans out! And collects every ye olde TV on the eastern seaboard. Who doesn't love a good sitcom, amiright? (Me. Me do not love sitcoms). The Director storms off to wherever for whatever reason. I don't know, don't care. Jimmy and Darcy are on the case.

Darcy is IDing the other "characters" in the sitcom, who appear to be real people with NJ driver's liscenses, while Jimmy is wondering why the force field is hexagonal. You've got me there. And now we're montaging.

Jimmy ponders the big board of 'characters' and Darcy drops her cup o' noodles when she spots Monica in the second episode. He and Darcy discuss and he's like "is it an alternate reality, time travel, some cockamamie social experiment?" Darcy's all "it's a sitcom." A pure mystery.

Darcy comes up with the idea to reach out to Wanda via the radio in her kitchen. "Next time she's washing dishes — which by my count happens about once an episode, barf." heh. She tech babbles some and I'm very proud.

A minion agent runs up with the latest intel from the most recent episode, it's a picture of the SWORD drone that looks more retro (frankly it looks better than the 'real world' one.) Hmmm, such a puzzler. Why did it change, they wonder.

Darcy Lewis and Jimmy Woo are a partnership I can totally get behind. Jimmy was the voice trying to reach Wanda. Darcy's watching the show while Jimmy's trying the radio thing. It's the second episode where Wanda's talking to Emma Caulfield and things go weird. Good. I'm glad they jumped us to the outside world by ep four. While I thought the first two eps were slow, I think maybe they'll work better once we can watch the whole thing at a go.

Dude is still crawling through the sewers. I completely forgot he was down there. And the field extends below ground and he just crawled through it and became a beekeeper, and his safety rope snapped and … became a jumprope?

And then Wanda wishes him to the cornfield. (I guess? We don't see what happens to him.)

SWORD is watching episode three.

"1950s, 1960s, and now 70s. Why does it keep switching time periods. It can't be purely for my enjoyment can it?" Guys, it's so good to see Darcy. "I can't believe Wanda and Vision are having a baby." No really, Jimmy and Darcy, BFFS 4EVAH! They're eating chips and watching the episode. Delightful. Just delightful.

"Twins. What a twist." Jimmy gives Darcy a look. "I'm invested!"

Monica mentions Ultron and Jimmy and Darcy are like "Whoa!".

They notice the screen sort of glitches and then Monica is gone and it's the end credits. Like when Bee guy vanished. Darcy and Jimmy are confused. "Someone is censoring the broadcast." Yeah, Wanda. She's gone to the scary place, friends.

Alarms go off and they run off. But, we go into Wanda World the aspect ratio changes from 4:3 to 16:9 and it's a new angle on when Wanda went all scary at Monica, demanding to know who she is. And then, of course, she gets kicked out of Wanda World.

"Wanda, I'm just your neighbor." "Then how could you know about Ultron?"

Wanda brings up the glowy hands of scary. "You are a stranger and an outsider and right now you are trespassing here. And I want you to leave." And then she zooms Monica out through the walls and fences and fields and that looked like it probably hurt.

Oh gross. Wanda turns around and sees Dead Vision. The big hole in his head and his face all, you know, dead looking. She looks away and then he's normal when she looks back. Well, now this has turned all sad, you guys. "We can go wherever we want." "No, we can't." Sad. Poor Wanda. The aspect ratio goes back to 4:3. I’m sure Editorial was like “oh god, again?”

"Don't worry darling, I have everything under control."

I don't think so, Wanda.

Good ep! My only real takeaway is that none of this is going to end particularly happily.

So … Darcy and Jimmy, BFFS 4EVAH!

#wandavision #wandavision spoilers #darcy lewis #jimmy woo #wandavision liveblog

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lady-divine-writes · 4 years

Text

Teaser for “A Demon on his Knees”

So, I’ve decided to unleash the floodgates of all the BDSM fantasies I have yet to write for these two and focus on a vast array of scenes and situations. This is the first thousand words of one of them (not to be confused with A Dalton Boy on his Knees for anyone reading that. I hope to have this done and up soon ;) )

***

Tell me about your dirtiest sexual fantasy.

Crowley reads the text message and laughs out loud.

Two months.

Aziraphale has only consented to using his new cell phone for two months. To top it off, it’s probably the hundredth phone Crowley has gotten him. But seeing as they’re on lockdown and his landline has been less than reliable (through no fault of Crowley’s, he assures him), Aziraphale finally relented when the latest iPhone popped up on his desk out of thin air, activated and ready for use.

Two months is how long it took Aziraphale to discover sexting.

Either that, or now that the Nope-ageddon is over and they have time to explore the 6,000-year-old friendship Aziraphale claimed they don’t have, Crowley has become a worse influence on him than ever.

Are you serious? Crowley texts. Why would you, a principality, want to know that?

Aren’t you the one always telling me to broaden my horizons? Get a little more daring? Besides, it’s just sex, Crowley. It’s not that big a deal.

Crowley’s eyes pop open wide at that, genuinely trying to remember when that conversation could have come up. Since he can’t, he can only conclude that yes, he is becoming a bad influence, without even realizing it.

How do you know I even have a dirty fantasy? Sex is a human indulgence. I may tempt them to it, but it’s not something I bother myself with.

Crowley presses send and waits - as in, he stands completely still in one spot and stares at the screen until he gets a response back. And when it does come through, he selects it so quickly, he nearly cracks his screen in the process.

Because I know you, my dear. You are an extremely curious demon. Even if you haven’t indulged in said fantasy, you probably have one.

Crowley grimaces at his phone. Smart ass angel. Fine. Maybe I do have one. Why do you want to know what it is?

Crowley waits again, a little longer this time. Gripping his phone in his hand, he feels a long, troubled sigh fill his body - Aziraphale’s sigh from miles away.

Because I’m a curious angel. And it’s been far too long since you and I have seen one another in the flesh.

In that instant, Crowley softens.

Alright, alright. Just … give me a second.

Take all the time you need, my dear. A warmth shoots up his arm - the warmth of Aziraphale’s smile, the one that comes with that fetching little wiggle he does when he gets his way.

Crowley crosses through rooms from his living room to his office and sits down on his throne. The bed would probably be more apropos for this conversation, but not conducive to coherent thought.

Not when his knees are already buckling and his face flushed.

I do have one fantasy, Crowley texts. But you have to swear that if I tell you, you promise not to judge me.

Why on Earth would I judge you?

Because that’s what angels do. And whether or not you want to admit it, I know you, too.

A substantial pause, and then - You have my word. Now, please. Go ahead.

Fine. Crowley clears his throat, even though he’s not actually speaking. I’m in a room somewhere …

Somewhere? Nowhere in specific?

No. Nowhere in specific. Crowley swallows hard. He makes a few mistakes typing the next few words, and it annoys him to realize his hands are shaking. Eyes closed, hands tied behind my back, and I’m waiting with the door cracked open. Someone walks in – I don’t know who (which is a huge and blatant lie because he does know. He’s known for thousands of years. There’s only one he trusts to do this … only one he wants to do this …) and frankly, I don’t care. I don’t have a relationship with him. I’m not paying him to be there, not tempting him either. But I am expecting him … or someone. Basically, I’m offering myself up for grabs to anyone walking by.

Crowley pauses a second, mouth dry, heart racing in his chest. It’s his biggest fantasy, but it would also be punishment. Punishment for things that he’s done in Hell’s name.

Punishment for not having the courage to go after the things he wants.

How horrible would it be to have some random human wreck him instead of the one he wants so much, he’s ready to claw his skin clean off his body?

And then?

Crowley grins, for a brief moment thrilled that he’s lured Aziraphale in to his secret erotic dream.

He fucks me, entirely unconcerned with who I am or what I want. I’m just there for his use, his pleasure.

And that doesn’t frighten you? Surrendering control? Being at his mercy?

Seeing those words makes Crowley’s heart beat faster. That’s exactly what he wants.

He wants to surrender control …

… but only to Aziraphale.

But how does he let that nugget of information slip without being too obvious?

Yes and no. I’d like to believe that whoever he is, he’s not interested in ending my existence, not showing up with a bucket of holy water to dunk on me. He’s just there to use me. He fucks me, he comes, he leaves, and that’s pretty much where the fantasy ends.

Crowley’s cock has gotten hard while he’s been texting. He squashes his erection with the palm of his hand, staring at the end of his last message, waiting for a reply.

And you’d give that kind of power to a human?

Crowley’s thumbs hover while he tries to find an answer to that question, one that won’t reveal his hand. I’m not saying that necessarily …

That seems rather reckless of you, my dear.

Crowley’s heart sinks as he types back - Yeah. Well, that’s part of the point.

And it’s not a temptation? Not to reap souls for Satan? Just something you want?

If I manage to kill two birds with one stone, I imagine that’s good for me in the end. But no. It’s just something I want. For me.

And you’ve never done this before?

No Crowley texts, holding his breath, wondering what Aziraphale is getting at. Not once.

The message he gets back speeds his heart into oblivion.

Do you feel like making that fantasy a reality?

Crowley raises an eyebrow. What do you mean?

I mean it’s been two months, Crowley. And I miss you terribly.

You would do that? Crowley asks, almost incredulous. You would come to my flat right now, after months of protesting that it would be setting a bad example, to engage in what you admit is reckless behaviour?

Crowley hits send before he has a chance to consider the tone of his message. It sounds cruel when he reads it back, unfair to berate Aziraphale when the realization of this fantasy is all he’s ever wanted. He expects Aziraphale’s next message will be him backpedaling with a Silly me. You’re right. I apologize. I’ll talk to you later. But the message Aziraphale sends is a single word that makes Crowley’s heart clench in his chest.

Please?

There are several auto-responses waiting in a row underneath Aziraphale’s plea, and without having to think (which he hasn’t been doing much of anyway) Crowley hits one.

It doesn’t even require him to hit send, ergo no second thoughts.

Yes.

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #ineffable husbands #ineffable lovers #aziraphale #Crowley #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale

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slightlyaggressiveaffirmations · 4 years

Note

Can I request some advice and affirmations on how to communicate to people that I need specific information (due to how my brain works due to two disabilities I have) instead of vague information?

Hi Anon!

I’m so sorry it’s taken me a while on this one! Every time I go to do affirmations, I spy it on the list and think “I need to help that person!” but as it happens, I’ve really been struggling to communicate lately. I’m in the down part of my bipolar cycle, and my communication skills suffer. So - YES, I actually am equipped to give you some advice.

I have some cognitive processing problems, and they often affect my memory, reading comprehension and verbal communication skills - especially when I’m tired or anxious - and so I’ve developed a whole lot of strategies I can share with you.

First of all:

YOU ARE NOT “STUPID” AND YOU ARE NOT “SLOW”!!!

I don’t believe in “stupid”, first of all. It’s not a thing. But even if it was, you still would not be it. And even someone like me, whose mouth can be a little bit slow to catch up to their brain is not “slow” - because that’s a mean insult and it’s intended to make us feel bad about ourselves because we don’t always act the way others do. Well, so fucking what, Anon!? All that means is we’re getting by in the same world as everyone else, but with things just that little bit harder. And that makes us METAL AS FUCK!!!

Now, some Hot Tips!

1. The simplest explanation is the best. You don’t need to go into detail about what your disabilities are or why you need information communicated in a certain way. It’s OK just to say you need it. Something like “Just so you know, I have a disability that causes some issues with my comprehension. I need you to give me very specific, exact instructions. If I need more information, I will have to ask you questions.” Some people might ask you what your disability is. But they don’t actually need to know - the fact you have one and it causes this problem (and this is the solution) is all that’s relevant. So...

2. Know your rights. Find out what the law about discrimination is, as well as the policies of your workplace or school, or wherever else is relevant. My university, for example, has a policy that I must be registered with the disability services centre with medical documentation and they give me an advocate who then applies for the assistance I need. The school’s policy is that the teaching staff have to comply with my assistance arrangements and are not entitled to know what my disability is. Very often, I choose to tell them anyway, because I find it helps if they understand the problem. But it is useful to be aware that if someone says to me “I’m not going to give you these notes unless you explain why you need them”, I have the right to say - “No. You MUST give them to me, and I can call my advocate.”

You might find you’ve got a boss demanding to know your disability and the HR rules say you actually do have to tell them. Which sucks, but at least you’d know and knowledge is power. You can go into a conversation prepared and not get blindsided.

3. Scripts are good. Scripts get some shit. That’s some neurotypical ableist Non Sense. Scripts are fucking great. Here’s one of mine for the first time I attend a staff meeting in a new workplace:

“I just want to let you know that I have a disability that causes some problems with my cognitive processing, so sometimes I struggle to take in a lot of verbal information all at once. So, if you see me closing my eyes, I’m not falling asleep - I’m just shutting out the visual stimuli so my brain has more space to take in what people are saying. I’m not rude, I promise!”

I have it memorised - I don’t always 100% use the exact same words, but it always goes in that basic structure. I’ve learned it, and now I can be sure I get out all the information that is needed. This is good for other people (they don’t think the new girl is an asshole falling asleep in her first meeting) and it’s good for me (I don’t go in feeling anxious af). Scripts reduce anxiety, and if communicating your needs is harder when you’re anxious - scripts are IDEAL for you.

4. Be prepared. You know what the problem is, what the solution is and how you can best be helped. In your case, you could have something written down that you can give people. Write a guide (get someone to help if you need). Make a thing that says: “DON’T give me instructions like this” and “DO give me instructions like this”. Then no one can claim you didn’t tell them or weren’t upfront about your needs.

I have it built into my employment contracts - upfront at that early stage I ask them to put in a clause that says that if I’m not given an instruction in writing, I can’t be held responsible. It’s written in whatever language suits the employer, but basically, I tell them “My memory is shit. I don’t know what I’m told, so you have to write it down, or it doesn’t get done.” And no employer has ever objected to this - they’ve all found it to be a reasonable clause. I am honest and unapologetic and I ask with confidence because:

5. YOU’RE A FUCKING LEGEND! This isn’t your fault. There’s no shame here. You are just as capable as anyone else of doing the thing - you just need to be given the instructions in a particular way. If someone won’t do that, THEY are not helping you to do your best work. That makes them shit at the thing - because how are you supposed to be your hella competent, excellent rad as fuck career cobra/study snake/achievement alligator if they aren’t going to take a minute to give you instructions in the proper fucking way you asked them to? Frankly, they’re letting everyone down. Including you.

I hope that some of this is helpful to you, Anon. Stay rad as fuck, and please enjoy this very safe, socially distanced, retro, cyberspace solidarity fistbump!

- The Slightly Aggressive Affirmer

#slightly aggressive advice #chronic illness saas #Anonymous

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summer-jay · 4 years

Text

Forfeit (Tommy/Alfie fic)

Ao3 Link

Summary: “What do you want, Alfie?”

The only reason Alfie glances at Tommy’s mouth that moment is because he brings the cigarette up again and wraps his lips around it, hollowing his cheeks as he takes the final deep drag. He probably lingers a second too long, because Tommy’s eyes snap down momentarily, and when they land on Alfie again, it’s a completely different expression Tommy’s wearing.

In which Tommy has to deal with his men's fuck-up and discovers many things about himself in the process. At some point, Alfie thinks it's about bloody time.

Rating: Explicit

A/N: For some reason, I’m really struggling with this one, but all the rewriting seems to be paying off. First chapter’s finally up!

Chapter 1: Speak (3028 words)

The warehouse is in fucking shambles.

It’s charred from ground to ceiling—what’s left of it, at least—oozing the sickly concoction of foam, water and ash from every crack. Nasty fucking view to have, this early in the morning. On the far side, the roof was blown to shreds, and the newly formed gaping hole lets the bleak London sun illuminate the space with sinister greyness and spiky shadows of the jagged remnants of the carcass. It could be almost nice, this exterior. Spiritual and apocalyptic in a way. But now the damp blackened wood sucks any redeeming qualities right out of the building and leaves it cold, dead and hopeless.

Alfie takes one last look at it and grimaces, getting in the car.

“Back to the office, boss?” Ishmael asks, to which Alfie responds with a little more repetition and emphasis than strictly necessary.

He actually preferred the sight when it was all jolly and alight mere hours ago. There was a serene pocket of time then, while the firemen worked to preserve the area around more than the warehouse itself, since Alfie could do nothing but observe the chaotic nature of the world make yet another demonstration. He didn’t know a thing back then. But he does now. And it leaves the same taste in his mouth as the stale scent of rotting wood and smoke.

It’s barely past seven when he instructs Ollie to make the call. Tommy must’ve been up and about for some time now, because he picks up immediately, and Alfie tries his hardest not to get any more pissed off at the whole situation than he already is. He’ll have to fucking deal with it now then. Fucking brilliant.

“He said he’s on his way,” Ollie appears in the door, and Alfie tears his eyes away from the record book that he isn’t reading.

“Hm. Alright then. Go kick those brainless fuckers back into our world in an hour. Ollie-” he calls when Ollie starts to turn “-leave ‘em intact for now, yeah? And tell David whatever I see on them, before Tommy Shelby arrives, yeah, I paint right back on his fucking face. With my own hands.”

Ollie furrows his brow but nods. Smart lad when he wants to be.

The door closes, and Alfie throws the record book on the table and falls back on the chair, stroking his beard absently and watching the sun rise higher and higher in the small window. Wrong day in every fucking regard, except, it shouldn’t be. Some months ago, he would’ve sunk his teeth into such a glaring opportunity to squeeze something more out of Tommy, just to see how far he could bend him without breaking. It’s a goddamn mystery why things have changed, although Alfie’s not quite delusional enough to claim he doesn’t know what exactly has changed.

He decides to wait and see. There have not been many fuck-ups on Tommy’s part in the past—none, in fact—and it makes him curious, despite the simmering irritation, to see what Tommy will offer.

. . .

For all Alfie’s tendencies to run his mouth like hell, he’s quite good at giving instructions, and, even more importantly, he’s competent enough to get them obeyed. He reaps the fruits of this ability now, when Tommy strolls into his office, fuming with irritation and knowing absolutely bloody nothing.

“So. Where’s the fucking fire?” Tommy asks as a way of greeting, letting the frustration into his voice, and it’s not that he can’t keep it locked away—he chooses to let Alfie see exactly where the fault with such scandalous disruptions of his morning routine lies.

Yes, that was definitely the right call to forbid Ollie to tell him anything over the phone.

Alfie looks up from the document he’s been staring at, taking in the sight.

Despite the pointed lack of urgency in his movements and the spilling annoyance, Tommy came. He’s sitting in Alfie’s chair now, guarded and so utterly stripped of control it sends a rush down Alfie’s spine. It suits him, this vulnerability. Makes him all sharp and volatile, and Alfie couldn’t deny himself this even if he tried—he wants just another moment of it to roll in.

He holds up a finger, taking his sweet time marking completely random figures on the paper with the air of undivided concentration, and Tommy predictably huffs, taking out his cigarette pack.

It takes a few minutes of silence before Tommy’s irritation starts threatening to break out, another minute he takes to wrench it under control. Alfie feels an infuriating urge to grin. Yeah, that’s Tommy Shelby alright, from head to toe, and it was a rather long time going about without him; so long, in fact, that something angry and hot curls in Alfie’s stomach at the necessity to deal with this ridiculous fucking situation right now instead of talking with Tommy like civilized people over a nice set of tea. Not that they’ve ever done that. Not that they will.

Right. Time for fucking business.

Alfie gives the paper one last dramatic swipe of the pen and looks up, propping his elbows on the tabletop and lacing his fingers under his chin.

“Chalton Street, actually,” he says easily, and Tommy’s hand pauses briefly halfway between the armrest and his lips. Alfie nods. “Yeah yeah, ‘s funny you should ask, mate, right, all that unsettling gypo foresight. You should’ve been a bookmaker or something.”

“I prefer not to tempt fate,” Tommy deadpans.

Alfie realizes a tad too late his gaze still lingers on Tommy’s mouth and jerks it up. “Mm, gentlemanly of you. Well, it seems to me, right, that she’d been tempted long before your intervention, mate. Cause she’s supposed to watch over fools, don't she.”

Tommy exhales the smoke slowly. “That’d be God.”

There’s the thing about Tommy—he bounces Alfie’s bullshit right back at him. Alfie feels dangerously close to getting lost in the banter. Which, as an absolute and extremely vital rule, never happens to him. It doesn’t help that Tommy’s bristling demeanour is now gone and forgotten, switching the gears in his mind to prying, negotiating and doing all other kinds of wonderful things that Tommy manages all at once when he smells fire.

Fucking bloody hopeless, Alfie thinks with marginal disappointment directed at his very self and cuts to the chase.

“Right, those new arrivals you sent, yeah, two of ‘em, they blew up my fucking warehouse tonight, mate.” It sits in the air between them for a second, Tommy still and blank as a sheet. Technically, no explosion took place, but it’s the result that matters in these things, innit.

“They got drunk,” Alfie continues, punctuating every word, probably more to himself than to Tommy, and fixes Tommy with a gaze he calmly returns. “On duty. On their shift. And decided to ease the inexpressible burden of sitting on your arse doing nothing, right, by playing with matches like little boys.”

“Was there anyone else with them?” Tommy asks without missing a beat.

“No,” Alfie lies. “Who knew they needed fucking grownups for supervision, fuckin’ hell, Tommy.”

It’s almost cruel, this satisfaction, when Tommy’s face hardens momentarily. He isn’t buying a word of it, and frankly, Alfie’d be fucking insulted if he did, but there is suddenly an infuriating void of retorts at his disposal, that is if he doesn’t want to dig this hole deeper. Tommy knows this. And he looks at Alfie in a way that very clearly conveys that he knows.

Alfie watches him flick his thumb across the edge of the cigarette for a while. Probably contemplating if he should push, if he has any leverage and, if he does, what it would cost him to use it.

“The insurance-” he starts saying after a moment, and that won’t do at all, that is not where Alfie wants the balance to reside for now.

“Fuck the insurance,” he scoffs. “It’s just un-fucking-acceptable. You send me men, right, Tom, and I put them to work, right,” he gestures helpfully, “and now I’ll need to attach my man to each your man like some fucking queer Russian doll, is that it?”

Tommy quirks an eyebrow. “Your men are not without vices.”

“My men, mate, those I find logistically more difficult to lay off.”

It’s an empty threat that Alfie half-heartedly expects to elicit a response. It doesn’t. Tommy blinks at the wall, unaffected and unimpressed to the whole world, except for how he clenches his teeth. It makes his jawline even more acute, and that, well, that might set Alfie on edge a little. How others fall for Tommy’s submissive charade is a goddamn mystery, because he seems utterly incapable of doing a thing with that cold piercing gaze that now ventures back to Alfie, not exactly shooting daggers but cutting alright. Alfie’s tempted to scold him a little more, figures that’s what drives him up the wall the most, just to draw a reaction. To see that fire spill over. He’s tempted to do many fucking things.

“Well, mate, what I tell you? No man is without vices, yeah.” He brings his hands back on the table, watching Tommy’s eyes track the motion automatically. It’s somehow getting the wrong sort of heated, this little domestic drama. Alfie resolves to ignore it for now. Needs to get to the fucking point. “Now, mate, can’t say I understand a thing about your lot in that town, batshit crazy stuff you do, yeah. But for the sake of our shared human nature, right, flawed and all, I might be inclined to let it rest, so to speak, in the ashes.”

“How fucking kind of you,” Tommy says evenly. He resolutely maintains eye contact, and fucking hell, if that’s his negotiations look, Alfie will blow his own bakery and find early retirement somewhere on the seaside.

That’s a kiss-with-a-blade-under-your-chin kind of look. It’s as if Tommy knows Alfie’s provoking him and absolutely can’t help it anyway.

Alfie realizes he got a little sidetracked and stopped talking altogether only when Tommy speaks up, on the exhale, a couple of long seconds later.

“What do you want, Alfie?”

The only reason Alfie glances at Tommy’s mouth that moment is because he brings the cigarette up again and wraps his lips around it, hollowing his cheeks as he takes the final deep drag.

It’d be a fleeting look, if it were any other fucking day under the sun. But now Alfie finds himself strangely fixated on the picture. He probably lingers a second too long, because Tommy’s eyes snap down momentarily, and when they land on Alfie again, it’s a completely different expression Tommy’s wearing.

Confusion. Inhale. Decision.

Then Tommy leans back on the chair and tips his head back slightly, suddenly almost bored.

Alfie normally prides himself on being a professional reader of men’s minds—never women’s but who the fuck is—and it still takes his powers a second to comprehend the sudden shift in the air.

“Well?” Tommy says, voice going lower than the intonation dictates, and deposits the cigarette stub on the edge of Alfie’s desk. “Let’s get it done.”

Let’s get what done, Alfie wonders, what the hell has Tommy got into his head this time, until, in a blazing, surreal moment, it hits him.

He realizes two things, to be precise, which would be three things if he chose to lie to himself about being oblivious to the very first one all this time.

He wants Tommy Shelby. He’s wanted Tommy fucking Shelby for a rather inconveniently long time, rather desperately at that, and he’s getting hard just sitting across the table from the arrogant fucker, because Tommy’s irritated, Alfie’s no better, and this whole thing suddenly looks much more appealing when he imagines it culminating in fucking rather than shooting. It’s not a problem worth freaking out over, in Alfie’s mind.

But the fucking, though, Tommy here thinks it to be the payment. That is the second thing.

What do you want, Alfie?

Alfie starts moving before reasoning manages to stop him—and not like it’s a rare occurrence. He circles the table, led by a sudden angry impulse to push, see if Tommy would actually go through with it, cause that, right, that wasn’t what Alfie meant by that fucking stray gaze at all. But it’s burning right through him, now that it’s on the table.

Tommy looks up at him through his long dark lashes and stays just like he is, open and tense. Tenser still as Alfie shuffles into his space, squeezes between him and the table, legs touching. For a second, he’s so stiff it feels like he’ll shatter, like a fucking ice statue, from the mere touch.

But Tommy doesn’t move. He blinks slowly and breathes heavily in the sudden silence, solidifying Alfie’s third insight.

Tommy Shelby would let him.

Alfie’s heart is pumping molten lead through his veins, and it’s simultaneously heavy and unconscious when he brings his hand down and strokes Tommy’s cheek, taking a hold of his jaw to tip his head even further back.

To shock him out of this glazed state he seems to be sinking into. To touch him. To push him until he does break, because this is just a stupid fucking assumption to make that Tommy would whore himself out for business, not to another man.

But Tommy doesn’t move at all. He seems to be falling in the precise opposite direction of Alfie’s whirling thoughts, going more wide eyed and responsive, and, by the looks of it, almost fucking surprised. At what exactly, Alfie can’t begin to contemplate.

Tommy lets him maneuver his head up and stares back, unblinking, pupils blown like spilled gunpowder against the bright blue. Alfie swipes a finger along his cheekbone. Tommy doesn’t bolt. Alfie steps closer, kicking Tommy’s knees apart, watching every muscle twitch on his face, waiting, nearly fucking snapping-

But Tommy doesn’t bolt.

He draws a shaky breath instead and says, with what sounds miles away from cold indifference, “I don’t have all day. Get a fucking move on.”

Alfie barely holds himself back from slapping him, because what in all circles of hell does that boy think of him. Tommy’s not a complete fucking idiot, after all. He must understand Alfie, among all the things that he is, is not that kind of a man. But here they are.

Alfie suddenly becomes acutely aware of his fingers on Tommy’s skin. Funny how this particular setting—Tommy under his hands, under him, with eyes burning and lips parted so prettily—would put him in a much less conflicted and a much more aroused state just a day ago. Just a fucking hour ago.

Which is not to say he’s not aroused. He’s fucking aching. But Tommy doesn’t want it now, except as a retribution for the cock-up Alfie can’t even clearly recall at the moment.

Alfie drops his hand so quickly, Tommy’s head bounces slightly before he catches himself. More confusion. Darting eyes, calculating what he’s done wrong. It’s not particularly difficult to return behind the desk, although Alfie’s body is screaming at him to come back, pull Tommy to his feet, tear that coat off and make Tommy come so hard he’ll be only able to see complete fucking darkness for minutes.

But as Alfie sinks into the chair, the picture of the guarded, enduring void in Tommy’s eyes makes him shudder with disgust.

Jesus Christ.

“What-” Tommy begins and stops when his voice fails him. He clears his throat, miles and miles away, composed and distant once again, and Alfie doesn’t even want to look at him now, isn’t sure it won’t shower from his eyes or something.

“Reckon a bakery in Birmingham would be fine,” he blurts out, inevitably turning to watch Tommy as he draws his eyebrows together. “Fine location, innit, secluded, far from any semblance of law or morality, yeah?”

“A bakery.” Tommy swallows, clearly trying to be inconspicuous about it and failing.

“Right, a small one, from your pocket and all. Would serve your men well, to learn some bloody discipline. Could relocate those two excuses for workforce of yours there, spare us all the necessity to behold their fucking faces.”

Alfie doesn’t need a bakery in Birmingham. Hell, of all the things he hoped to get out of this whole ordeal, this wasn’t even remotely close to the list.

He fumbles with his rings absently while Tommy gets busy picking himself up and straightening his coat.

He considers saying something. Easy and dismissive, something along the lines of ‘nah, you misread it, mate,’ which would be simple enough and also absolutely fucking ballistic, because admitting anything out loud at this point feels like a death sentence in neat handwriting—very tiny and very lethal.

By the mortified look gliding across Tommy’s face for a second as he swipes a hand over his face, he knows damn well he misread it.

“Right,” Alfie mutters to himself and then repeats, loudly enough to shake the whole damn building, “Right. So it’s settled then, yeah, no hard feelings. With the bakery, that is.”

“Right,” Tommy echoes. He sounds strange, almost lost, although it would’ve been impossible to notice if Alfie’d known him any less.

When Tommy goes to leave, Alfie doesn’t stop him, although the impulse, for some fucking reason, is there.

He slumps down in the chair, draws a long, deep breath and tries to process what has just transpired. In particular, what that look on Tommy was, right before he gracefully stormed out of his own fucking shipwreck.

Alfie can’t seem to find a place for his hands; he keeps shifting around, the persistent sensation of rough stubbled skin under his fingertips unchanging despite the position, until he jolts upright and grabs the cigarette that witnessed all this chaos with dead silence.

Alfie’s powers are suddenly kicking back in to tell him the fucking look was one of disappointment. Which is complete and impossible bloody horseshit. Unless, of course, it isn’t. And in that case, opening a bakery in Birmingham is a bad, bad idea.

#peaky blinders fanfiction #tommy x alfie #tofie #sholomons #tommy shelby #alfie solomons #peaky blinders #it's something rather new to me so we'll see how it goes

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mooncleo · 4 years

Text

and we recover slowly, my love, but surely

Fandom: Harry Potter

Main Pairing: Ron Weasley/Hermione Granger/Harry Potter

Description: Ron, Harry, and Hermione live together after the war. It seems like the logical choice, and the next step into comfortable domesticity seems logical as well. They learn and they love and they heal and cope and live and it’s beautiful and painful and perfect.

Words: 6,893

Edited: Literally not at all sorry guys

Author’s Note: Good morning to everyone who did not ask!!! I’m gonna double post my fic for all of my two followers, whom I love and cherish very much 🥰🥰

I honestly was not expecting this fic to end up being ot3, that kinda took me by surprise. So did my 2k turning into almost 7k, that was a little bit of fun.

I’m going to try to put in a read more, if I fail PLEASE tell me I don’t want anyone to have to scroll through everything.

Read it on Ao3 here.

…

It was the cool quiet of the evenings that kept him from even entertaining the thought of returning to London. Nights at the Dursley’s had never been this calm, always filled with Aunt Petunia or Vernon’s yelling, Dudley’s taunts, or the rumbling of an empty stomach, sent to bed without a bite of the dinner that he helped to cook.

He never went to bed hungry anymore. It was one of his triggers, they found out one night when he’d spent all day working on one of his projects and forgotten to eat- laying in the dark with his stomach beginning to knaw on itself in protest had sent him spiralling nearly into a fully blown panic attack. The Dursley’s had fucked him up, for sure.

It was not long that they’d been living together in their little cottage that Harry made a joke about cupboards and beds. It was bound to come up eventually, but he had hoped, somehow, to put the ensuing conversation off forever.

Before they had even gotten into details, Hermione’s eyes had started to water in a way that made him, quite frankly, uncomfortable. “All these years, and we never even knew? You’ve gone home to them every summer! I knew they didn’t feed you very well, but God, Harry. I didn’t think it was this bad."

He could tell that Ron felt the same way, but he’d never been particularly good at expressing it. Instead, Harry got twice the usual serving at dinner, and Ron’s grip was tight around him when they settled down to watch a movie later.

The next day at breakfast, Hermione brought it up again. She’d started by trying to convince him to file a court case against them.

"It’s a serious case of child abuse, Harry. They were horrible to you, and they shouldn’t be able to get away with it.” That argument had not gone down well, as Harry had first denied that there was any child abuse involved, however horrible they’d been, and then added on that he had no idea where they’d ended up after the war. He also didn’t really ever want to see them again, though he left that part out. He had a feeling it might not help his case.

“Well, you should at least go to therapy. It might help you process what they put you through.” She held up a finger when she saw him going to argue and said, “Listen, even if you don’t think the Dursley’s abused you, I still think you should go to therapy. Don’t pretend you haven’t stopped sleeping because of the nightmares, Harry Potter, so help me God. I know what you look like when you’re well-rested and this isn’t it. Those bags under your eyes could carry our groceries. Actually, I think we should all go. It’s not as though you’re the only one who went through a year on the run in addition to all the other fun trauma that comes with war."

Ron was a little confused about what therapy was until they explained the concept to him and he shouted out, "Mind healers! Oh! Yeah, we have those.” This, thankfully, saved them from the ordeal of finding an either muggleborn or squib therapist so that they could talk about magic without being declared properly insane.

Harry had been apprehensive about going to anyone who could claim to fix his mental issues- in part because he was half in denial about those mental issues to begin with. Yes, he had trouble sleeping most nights because of nightmares. Yes, he felt guilty about every single death that had happened during the war. Yes, the Dursley’s had treated him horribly for all of his life. But everyone had nightmares because of the war, those deaths really were his fault because they were all fighting for him, and the Dursley’s just hadn’t liked him that much on account of his parents. The hate was mutual, after all.

It only took one session with his mind healer, Gertha, for him to begin to open up to the idea that maybe he was a little bit misguided. Gertha was an 80 year old witch with gray hair just beginning to pepper her bun, and she took no shit. Her age had given her the grace of being willing to properly fight him when he started to go into a spiral, and she had a dry wit that he appreciated. Halfway through the first time they met, he’d started talking about the war and how it was his fault. Her eagle-eyed stare had stopped him in his tracks, and he’d asked, “What?"

"Boy, you are taking on far too much responsibility here. You think all those people died just for you? You think the war wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t been around? No! Voldemort was coming back, with or without you- he would have found a way. And just because you were the face of the war, that does not make you the war. A rallying point does not control those who gather around it, it simply exists as a marker, a way to say ‘we are here.’ Those people did not die just for you, you hear me? They were going to fight either way. People don’t like to lay down and give up when their loves and lives are threatened."

At the time, he hadn’t believed a word she’d said, but he liked the way she said it. It wasn’t quite scolding, more disbelieving than anything else. She also had said that Voldemort was coming back with or without him, even without knowing about the horcruxes. He liked her wit and the easy way she had handled his self-pity. She reminded him a bit of Professor McGonagall, and that in and of itself was a recommendation to him.

He went back the next week, because she had told him to and he liked her. He felt lucky that he found someone he liked right away, because both Ron and Hermione didn’t like the first Healers they talked to. Hermione had not liked the bright, peppy young witch who was apparently entirely too optimistic. "Her office was covered in little paper flowers, as though she didn’t deal with grown adults. As soon as I mentioned the war she started patronising about how she felt there surely must have been a better option than fighting, like maybe talking. First of all, did she do literally any research before I walked into the room? Honestly, what if I had been just a mite more fragile? Or Harry?"

"Hey! I resemble that remark!” A pillow found its way through the air in the direction of his face.

“Don’t interrupt me when I’m ranting. Anyway, she was absolutely insane. 'Why did they have to fight?’ Because when another wizard throws a curse at you, you aren’t gonna just fucking stand there and take it! Good God, woman. I don’t know where she was during the war, but she clearly wasn’t paying any kind of attention to Britain. How did she even get her Healer’s license? Ridiculous.” Hermione took an angry sip of her tea and she and Harry both looked to Ron.

“Yeah, mine wasn’t as bad as all that. I just didn’t really think he had the type of vibe I’m looking for. Kinda reminded me of my dad, actually. Not really what I wanted.” After sympathetic nods from the other two, Ron turned towards the TV. “What are we planning on tonight?"

"Right! I forgot completely. The Princess Bride! The librarian was raving about it when I was checking it out, so hopefully it’ll be good.” As Ron was raised in a wizarding household, Harry hadn’t really had much of a childhood by way of movies, and Hermione’s parents had been very strict, the three of them had decided to work their way through iconic muggle films that they’d missed over the years. They’d all liked The Breakfast Club the week before, though they were postponing Star Wars from two weeks ago until they could get through the fight scenes without having semi-simultaneous panic attacks.

The Princess Bride was a hit, and Hermione liked it enough that she put the VHS on her to-buy list. They wanted to build up their own collection of movies that they liked for rewatching purposes. Hermione had argued that going to the Blockbuster and renting a movie was much more cost effective that just buying all of them outright, since they were trying to get through at least a movie a week. The boys had decided not to argue, as she tended to be right about most things (and was also managing their finances).

Three weeks later, Ron had found a mind healer he liked, and Hermione was still stuck. Ron never said much about the therapy sessions he went to, while Hermione preferred to rant after hers. “God, it’s like he wasn’t even listening! There has to be at least one healer out there that I can actually talk to with a modicum of intelligence."

Ron and Harry traded glances. Harry’s look was quizzical, Ron’s was certain. It seemed that Harry would be the one to say it, then. ”'Mione, do you think that there’s a chance that maybe you’re having trouble finding a therapist because you don’t want to give any of them the chance to help?“

She was quiet for a moment. "I mean. I had considered it, but. Well. None of them- well. I suppose I may not have been entirely fair with all them. Although I stand by everything I’ve said."

"Everything you’ve said? Your main complaint about the last one was that she wore a cardigan instead of doing warming charms on herself. You may want to rethink that, love.” Ron’s tone was gentle and amused. It was a good thing, because Harry was fairly certain she’d have bitten his head off if it’d been anything but.

“Oh. Yes, well. Maybe a tad.” She coloured as she admitted it, and then added, “It was a truly hideous cardigan, though."

"And warming charms are a rather simple.” Harry mimicked the arch way that Hermione said things of people she looked down on, a voice that only those close to her ever really got to hear. She never mocked people in polite company, but both Ron and Harry knew that she could be properly vicious when she felt like putting in effort. Ron laughed, and then Hermione did too, a second later. They descended into giggles for a few moments before subsiding.

“Really, though. Your main complaints about her were her clothing, and not the soundness of her advice. Maybe try a second session with her, and see if it was a one off? If the only thing you could come up with was an ugly sweater then she must have been rather on the nose about everything else."

"Hmmm. Maybe. She did seem reasonably intelligent, actually."

The matter was concluded for the night, and they all went off to bed. After a night of rest, Hermione felt comfortable admitting that, looking back, it was rather obvious that she had been searching for faults as an excuse not to have to be vulnerable around people she didn’t know very well.

The solution to this, according to her mind healer, would be to get to know each other before starting. Hermione raved about how intelligent the woman was when she got home, and Ron and Harry once again traded glances. They didn’t say anything, but they were glad to have been able to help her find someone she actually liked. Neither was surprised that she was happy so quickly. It had been clear to them, before, that she was searching for faults.

Their lives went on. Tuesdays became therapy days, and they’d all go out for ice cream afterwards. Eventually, Harry and Hermione ended up back in the workforce. Ron decided to stay home and take care of the house. (He referred to the two of them as his sugar parents, an idea that deeply offended Hermione. Harry thought it was hilarious.)

Harry had toyed with the idea of going on to become an auror like he’d thought he wanted when he was 15. It did not take him very long to decide that he’d only really come up with the idea in the first place because he’d supposed that his life’s purpose was fighting Voldemort, and the aurors could have given him a leg up in that. With as long as it had taken him to accept that his life had meaning beyond fighting and defeating a dark lord, he wasn’t going to give that up now.

They ended up spending the entire evening brainstorming when he brought up wanting to get a job. Even if he was never going to be an auror, he was still starting to get restless with all the free time they’d accrued living off the map together.

"You could be a- a- um, fuck, what’re they called. Bus driver!! That’s a job.” Hermione, rather drunk on her fourth glass of wine, had taken to suggesting whatever came to mind.

“I don’t drive, I’m gay."

"Mmmm, you’re just as bi as the rest of us, darling. I bet we could figure it out. Actually, you know what, we should probably get a car.” She was starting to light up the way she did when she had a goal, and Ron groaned loudly.

“God, I forgot we never even learned to drive. Do we have to? I can apparate half-decently, and so can Harry. We could just practice and then not drive."

At Hermione’s put-out look, Harry interjected. "I’ll put bus driver on the list, but I don’t know that we need to drive. Where are we going? Half the shit we eat we grow ourselves."

"That’s right! It’s sus- sustains- no, oh my god, I’m drunk- sustainsabilities. Fuck, I can’t speak. Sustainabilities. Yup, it’s sustainable! We’re helping the environment.” Hermione had, at some point during their conversation, migrated sideways so that she was leaning almost entirely on Harry.

“'Mione, you have to move. You gotta- lean on Ron, I have to pee.” She snorted and nuzzled slightly further into his chest.

“Hmmm, you do that."

A few seconds later, there were snores coming from her frame, and Harry looked over at Ron, who was shaking with silent laughter. "Don’t laugh, I have to pee! Help me move her."

Harry pushed at Hermione’s shoulder, and she flopped a little bit onto the back of the couch. Ron doubled over in another round of giggles, and Harry hissed, "Ron, I swear to god- if I start laughing I’m gonna piss! You gotta- oh my god- help!"

At this point, Harry had started laughing and tried to slip out from under his girlfriend. Instead of quietly moving her without waking her, she fell and glanced her head off the arm of the couch. A brief moment of panic ensued, in which Harry and Ron both tried to check on her at once, and only succeeded in bonking their heads together.

Ron was gasping through peals of laughter as he grabbed onto Harry to avoid falling off the couch. "Oh- oh shit, oh fuck, oh my god. Is- is she- fuck- is she okay? Harry, you fucking idiot, check her head."

"She’s fine, dipshit. Fuck, that could have been so bad, shit.” Harry had sobered for the moment that it took to remember the diagnostic spell to make sure that Hermione was actually okay, and upon confirmation he sank back into the humor of the situation.

“Goddamnit, I can’t believe that happened. Good god.” He wiped his eyes and then got up to actually use the bathroom.

“Don’t get a concussion in there, Harry, the last thing we need is two of them.” Ron called after him, and he responded with a one fingered salute in the general direction of his boyfriend. He heard Ron’s collapse against the couch as he closed the bathroom door.

It was as he was staring at the green tiling on the bathroom floor that he found himself reflecting on the fact that if that had happened a few months ago, it would have gone much worse. Any injuries sustained by the three of them were largely blind territory that brought back horrible memories for the worst of the months after the war. It was remarkable that they could laugh through it, now.

When he came out to stick his still slightly damp hands under Ron’s jumper, he found Ron and Hermione curled up together, softly snoring. He smiled and climbed onto their couch next to them, levitating a blanket over the three of them as he went. It was a good night.

The next morning, he woke up first. They’d ended up tangled closer together in sleep, but he was still on the edge and managed to slip out to start breakfast and find the paracetamol for the three of them.

Breakfast was quieter than usual, with lots of gestures and grunts when someone wanted something. Wine hangovers were no joke. Later in the day, they went out to the garden together to weed, and Hermione suggested gardening as a potential profession. Harry vetoed, with the reasoning that he got to do it enough at home.

Ron bounced off that logic to suggest Quidditch, and they had the first of what would end up as their two final options. The other was working as a professor, which Harry took a full week to warm up to the idea of.

“I don’t know, becoming a professor seems like kind of a big deal. First of all, you’re shaping students’ whole lives, and second of all wouldn’t I need, like, higher education?"

"Oooh, good point, actually. I believe you would need to get a mastery in the subject that you want to teach, which you can obtain by apprenticing under an expert in the field. I think that was in Hogwarts: A History? It might have come from somewhere else, I’m not sure. As for the other thing, I’ve seen you with kids, Harry. You’re brilliant. I don’t know that you even really need to worry about that quarter."

"Mate, it might be good for you to get a mastery, actually. They usually discuss them with seventh years at Hogwarts, so I don’t really know much about them. Charlie’s was how he got started in Romania, actually."

"Huh. That makes a lot of sense, actually. I always wondered if wizards had an equivalent to college, but I was a bit busy worrying about the dark wizard trying to kill me for most of my life, so I never got the chance to look it up.” Harry had actually considered asking McGonagall about it during his consultation on his future, but they’d started talking about Defense Against the Dark Arts exams before he could mention it.

“Harry, you should write McGonagall about it. She’s always looking for new teachers, and even if you don’t end up wanting to do it, she can give you advice on how to start looking for a mastery, which you’ll pretty much need for most jobs, anyway."

With that, they’d settled the matter. He wrote to McGonagall, and she replied promptly with an invitation to her office to discuss it in person.

McGonagall had taken Dumbldore’s old office. Harry had known that she would, as Headmistress, but it still shocked him a little to see the space decorated so differently. Minerva McGonagall was a practical woman, and as such had no need for random devices scattered about the room. He walls were lined with shelves full of books of many kinds, and her fire was roaring. She and Harry sat across from each other in matching armchairs that Harry swore must have had some kind of charm on them, because they were the most comfortable chairs he’d ever sat in.

"Professor-” Harry started, and then stopped. He wasn’t quite certain how to go about this meeting, on unfamiliar territory. She wasn’t quite his teacher anymore, and he didn’t know how to approach that.

“You can call me Minerva, Harry. You are no longer my student.” The way she said it was not unkind, but he still felt lightly chastised. “I believe you wanted to discuss how to proceed in finding a career in the wizarding world?"

"Um. Yes. Well. Minerva- hmmm, yeah that tastes strange. Minerva, I’ve been thinking that it would be a good idea to get myself back out into the world, starting with a job. Ron, Hermione, and I have been fine in our cottage, but sometimes it- I just feel like it’s time. I’m getting a bit restless, I think."

Minerva looked amused at his rambling. "I know how that feels. Did you know that after Elphinstone and I got married, I took a break from teaching?"

"Really?” Harry was genuinely surprised, because he couldn’t really imagine Minerva as a house wife.

“Yes, really. I took a year off to take care of our home and try my hand at being a stay at home wife. A year was about all I could stand, honestly. I ended up going back to teaching the following September, I was lucky enough that Albus had been unable to fill my position beyond a temporary professor. I loved our house and I loved spending time with my husband, but I found it difficult to be alone all day and trying to productively fill my days. I also missed my students with no small amount of fierceness."

"I definitely know how that feels. We have plenty of things to do but it’s so easy to get distracted without the structure of school."

"Hmm. Speaking of which, how much do you know about masteries, Harry? I know that you and your peers all missed our usual talks about them, but you are also living with one Hermione Granger, who I am sure knows a fair amount about them through the pure virtue of planning three years ahead at least at all times."

Minerva said it with humor and fondness in her voice, and Harry chuckled. "You’re not wrong. I know that it’s a bit like muggle college, and that it’s essentially an apprenticeship? I am a little bit confused about what one would do if they got to their mastery and found out that they’d picked something that they actually don’t like as much as they thought they did- for muggles they would just change their major, but if you’re working with one specific person because of their expertise in the subject that you’ve chosen, what do you do?"

"That’s a good point. Most students have at least an idea of what they want to do based on what classes they liked while they were in school, but many don’t. Towards the end of seventh year, we allow students to start trying out different concentrations. Many will start to work with teachers in subjects that they like to see if they like the subject as much as they think they do. If we don’t have anyone specializing in the subject that they are thinking of, we can, more often than not, find someone who is willing to allow them to tail their work for a week or so to see if that’s something they like. We encourage students to look into at least three different masteries so that they can fully explore their options. This helps most students decide where they’ll end up, but even if you get to where you want to be and then decide that it actually isn’t for you, it’s not nearly as difficult to try something new as it would seem."

"Good lord, that it a lot of information.” Minerva tilted her head slightly in acknowledgement. “So, if I start where I am now, without any weeks of tailing anyone and a bit beyond graduation, what do I do?"

"Well, I might suggest taking remedial courses for the year that you missed, to start. It might help some with the boredom that you were talking about earlier, and you are a bright young man. I have no doubt that you will find you can complete the courses in far less time than it would take you to complete a full school year. We thought about offering students an option to complete an extra 'eighth’ year, but ultimately decided to keep Hogwarts at its usual seven years, and instead look into alternate options for them to finish. That September, most of our older students weren’t ready to return to the school anyway. War takes its tolls."

"Isn’t that just ridiculously true? We were all wrecks for months, rather a bit. In the end Hermione pushed us to start going to therapy, and that helped loads. As for the completing the courses, I think that’s a good idea- I could probably do them with Hermione and Ron, Hermione’s been trying to figure out the logistics of finishing seventh year since it occurred to her that we never did, nevermind the fact that she’s performing spells of that level since fifth year."

"I’ve been trying to remember that that is a letter I need to send out to everyone, though I keep forgetting. Even this far down the line, we’re still working through castle repairs and damages. There is always so much to do… well, that’s no excuse for slacking, regardless. I’ll have to add it to the list."

She pulled out a piece of parchment from seemingly nowhere, and began to write on it with a quill also pulled from the ether.

Harry was deservedly very impressed. "That was awesome, professor- what spell was that?"

"I am no longer your professor, Harry. That is a useful little spell Filius taught me… "

Their visit went on, with Minerva imparting far too much wisdom for Harry to ever be able to remember it all. They discussed a wide variety of topics, and McGonagall seriously considered all of the options that he had looked into, and was a particular fan of the quidditch idea. "Even if you don’t end up doing it as a career, it’s an excellent way to stay in shape. Far too many of my students simply stop playing when they decide on an office job, such a shame, and so much wasted potential as well."

That particular comment sparked a long discussion about the merits of playing quidditch recreationally, which led to them talking about the professor’s league at the school. Harry was shocked that he hadn’t known about it as a student, had never heard it mentioned, and Minerva laughed at him for it. Apparently there were many secrets of the staff and school that students didn’t know about.

When he left with several biscuits tucked away in a container for travel to bring to Ron and Hermione, he felt better. He was almost entirely decided on what to do for his apprenticeship, and he had a solid plan for his next few years. After the uncertainty of being on the run for a year combined with the certainty that he wouldn’t live past 17, it felt good to know what he was going to do, and additionally know that it had nothing to do with dark wizards. It was rare for him to be anything resembling normal.

Ron and Hermione listened animatedly to his recollection of the meeting. Hermione was especially delighted to find that they’d have a way to complete their schooling, while Ron was relieved that it was from home. "Gotta be honest, I don’t want to go back to Hogwarts. It’s lovely, and in a special way it will always be home, but I think there are a tad too many memories lurking around corners for me to be completely comfortable there ever again."

Harry nodded, though he wasn’t entirely certain he agreed. It was something he’d not considered, the memories contained within the school’s walls. Hogwarts was his home, and it likely would always be in his mind, the first place that he ever truly felt comfortable. But with how bad his PTSD had been, and still was on occasion, would he be able to live there? Walk its halls the way he had as a child? He wasn’t sure.

They started their schooling a month, later, when it became widely available. The three of them were in some of the same core classes, as they’d always been, but they were all taking different paths and therefore most of the time they spent with papers spread out around them at the dinner table that they never ate at were for actual working, not talking.

Ron was taking only what interested him, just enough courses to be able to get his degree. He tended to finish his work before the other three, and would go kiss the top of their heads as he got up to go start dinner. Hermione had taken as many courses as she could fit, as always. It was almost worse than third year, because the courses weren’t held in person. She had taken that to mean that if she could find the time for it in her personal schedule, she could fit it in.

Ron and Harry had talked her down from taking all available courses. She’d ended up with a fairly large courseload regardless, but that was to be expected.

Harry was, as ever, in the middle. He found himself with a courseload he was happy with, a few extra classes that he thought could be interesting, but not so many that he was constantly doing work. That worked out well for him, because he’d taken an herbology elective having to do with the growing of potions ingredients in the wild. It turned out that understanding the ingredients in a deeper sense than just their names was immensely helpful for potions. He’d never been doing better in a potions class without cheating, and he’d also begun to actually understand some of the notes Snape had left in the margins of the stolen book.

They got through their class work and watched movies and made tea and went for walks and before they knew it, the holiday season was upon them. Their classes all had breaks for Christmas, and they took full advantage of that time.

"What d'you think we should get Molly this year?” Harry through the question out from his position on the couch, draped across Ron and Hermione’s laps.

“That’s gotta be some sign of adulthood, having to give your parents Christmas gifts.” Ron’s fingers paused their carding through his hair as he digested the question, and then he resumed. “I bet she’d like some of that cleaner we saw the other day, the one that changes scent."

"Oooooh, good point. I was thinking maybe some new knitting patterns, actually- I found a bunch in the clearance section in the bookshop we went to the other day.” Hermione started diligently scribbling on the parchment in front of her under the “parents” section of her well-organized christmas shopping/gift ideas list. She turned to her boys to say something more, but as she opened her mouth the tinny sound o a timer going off filled the room “That;s your turn done then, Harry. Scoot."

"Awww, but I’m so comfortable, 'Mione.” Harry pleaded to Hermione’s uncaring eyes as he heaved himself upwards out of Ron’s lap. Ron scooted down the couch to take Hermione’s place as she laid down to replace Harry.

“Mhmmm. Well, it’s my turn to be comfortable.” Harry’s fingers found their way to her hair as her quill and parchment floated in the air by her head. “Alright, where was I? Okay. Ummmm, right! Under Molly, I want: "knitting needles, pattern books, and scent changing cleaning spray."

The quill started scratching across the page as Hermione explained, "The other day over tea she mentioned to me that she hadn’t a good way to organize her needles, and usually has so many projects going that half the time she doesn’t know which ones are already in use and which aren’t. I think we should get her a new set so that she can have doubles AND an organizing system. I’m sure if we look hard enough we can find a case that has an extension charm on it, or we can do one ourselves."

Ron looked down at Hermione with a smile on his face. "Brilliant. Alright, who’s next?"

Harry glanced at the parchment hanging in the air to see which space was blank. "Looks like we don’t have anything for Ginny, which should be easy enough. She was complaining about her broom the other day, but I know she likes the model too well to want a new one. I was thinking a broom servicing kit?”

The evening went on like that, and they eventually had at least a rough sketch of what they would be looking for when they went out to do Christmas shopping. They found a fair amount of the things actually on the list, and were able to get suitable substitutes where they couldn’t.

Their Christmas plans were this: they spent Christmas Eve at Hermione’s aunt’s house. She explained to them that her mother’s siblings had a rotation going, and that next year the three of them would likely be required to come to her parents’ aid with hosting. Her family was surprisingly large, and she told them that they tended not to gather for anything other than holidays. She never talked about them because there weren’t any other wizards in the family.

They found out that this was not actually true on Christmas Eve, when Ron walked in on one of the cousins changing her kid’s diaper with a spell. It was a rather awkward conversation, while Ron tried to explain that he was a wizard and she tried to obliviate him. Eventually, the truth came out: her cousins were American, and hadn’t been particularly affected by the war. They, in all honesty, had been remarking to each other all night that Harry looked oddly familiar to them, but had been unable to parse out exactly what it was.

They ended up setting up a lunch date for all of them for later that week before they apparated back to Minnesota. The cousins were very excited to find that there was another wizard in the family, and Hermione was similarly vibrating.

“I can’t believe, all this time, and I didn’t even know! I knew it would make sense that some of my relatives would be magical, but I didn’t think it would actually happen. I obviously wasn’t going to sniff around and risk them finding out just to see if they really were muggles or not. Oh my goodness, this is amazing. I wonder what schooling looks like in America? I mean, I know the basic principles, of course, but I would love specifics. It’s such a big country, and Ilvermorny is the main school that we hear of, but I’m certain they wouldn’t have travelled that far just for school, that doesn’t make sense, does it?"

”'Mione, we’re having lunch with them later this week. I’m sure they’ll be happy enough to answer your questions. We certainly don’t know the answers.“

Ron nodded as he hoisted the backpack holding their gifts in it higher on his shoulders. They were walking to the closest apparition point. According to Harry, who was using google maps, they were about 5 minutes away.

"Turn left here. For tonight we should just focus on trying to get ourselves home, I think. Did we end up finishing the wrapping for tomorrow?"

"Oh shit, I forgot, actually. We ran out of wrapping paper. We only have a few left, but still. Should we find a Tesco and stop in? It’s not too late, is it?"

"They’re open til 10.” Ron stopped walking for a moment to consult his watch on the time, which read out 9:37 p.m.

“Alright, let’s go then."

The tesco had one roll of wrapping paper with lumberjack Santa Claus’s dancing across it with axes. They were not literally dancing of course- there was a Tesco in London with a wizard section where they might have found something similar, but they hadn’t the time to go to it.

The next day, George refolded his "hot santa claus” wrapping paper into a hat and wore it all through dinner. Molly was too happy that he was smiling to scold him about it, although she did have to excuse herself at one point. When Harry came in to check on her, she was crying lightly into a handkerchief.

“Oh, don’t worry about me, dear. I’ll be alright- he just- oh, for the love of- he looks very much like his brother.” She blew her nose and took a deep breath. A weak smile graced her face as she looked up at Harry. “It’s hard, still. It’s been getting better, but- well, I didn’t think they could even survive without each other. I used to look at the two of them, always together, always finishing each other’s sentences, and think, god, they’re just like my brother’s, and oh, thank goodness they’ll never have to be apart. I just- I just wish I’d been right.” Her voice broke a little bit on the last word, and she started dabbing at her eyes again.

“I know. I remember in school, they were always together. No one thought they should ever be apart, but. I don’t know. George is doing- not well, but- he’s surviving. That’s all we can ask of him. That’s all we can ask of any of us, really. I think he’s being happy in Fred’s memory, instead of in spite of it, you know?"

"Oh, I know, dear, I know. It’s just difficult. I’ll get over myself, I just needed a moment. I love seeing him smile again, it’s like Fred’s back, just for a little. Fetch me a glass of water?"

Harry nodded and swiftly vacated the room. Even after all his therapy, he was still shit with emotions. He found Arthur and informed him of the situation, sending him back to his wife with the water she requested. He knew that was the right decision when he saw Molly again, tears dried, laughing at something Arthur was saying. Her arm was laced through his, a glass of wine in her hand as she leaned against him on the couch.

He took a minute to reflect that he rarely saw Molly so relaxed, and especially not since the war. He was glad that they’d healed enough at this point that they could, at the very least, enjoy Christmas. His musing were interrupted when Ron came up to him from behind and hugged him. "We’re going to play pick-up, you’re on my team. Ginny’s pissed about it, come on."

He turned into his boyfriend with a smile on his face and give him a peck. "Excellent, let’s go crush her."

Ginny, who was training to be a professional quidditch player, soundly kicked their asses. George and Bill helped too.

As punishment for losing, Ron, Harry, and Charlie went skinny dipping into the pond on the property, but ended up just getting everyone else wet until they all went swimming together, whooping and laughing.

It was a good night, and Harry woke up sandwiched between Ron and Hermione. He was content to lay there and wait for them to wake up, listening to their breathing and looking at the rise and fall of their chests. They were here, and they’d made it through- he hadn’t thought they would. In the deepest recesses of his mind, he’d done out the math and he had been so certain that they wouldn’t make it through the war all together- something would have to give. Thank god he was wrong, pseudo death or no. He wanted to be nowhere else than where he was, listening to the Weasley household wake up on a Christmas morning.

They all got up eventually, slowly stumbling their way into the kitchen as the lure of coffee and sausages called to them. Mrs. Weasley seemed happy to have all of her birds back in the nest. Percy kissed her cheek as he left for work, the only one who hadn’t been able to get the day off. The rest of them sat down to eat.

Overall, it was one of the best Christmases he’d had in a long time, one of the few that he’d truly been able to enjoy. It was reminiscent of some of his first Christmases at Hogwarts, the first ones that he’d ever known what it was like to get presents that weren’t hand-me-downs or worthless garbage.

He thought about that feeling of being new to a world of literal magic, and the fact that the most magical part of it all had been that he’d had an out, that he’d been able to get far away from the Dursleys for 9 months. He liked this feeling better. Contentedly settled into his skin, with a wide and bright future set out in front of him. He couldn’t help but think that just maybe, there was nowhere better to be.

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