#i had 3 different writing stumps but by god i worked through them

[bluberimufim]

*deep inhale*

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA 🎉🎉🎉🎉

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go hug all my cats and drown myself in tasty little reward treats

Taglist: @wildswrites @little-mouse-gardens

[solomanta]

Ways to strengthen your devotion

(Warning: This post is somewhat geared towards Satanists but is intended for all spiritual people. If you do not follow Satan then simply ignore the specifics of any reference to him and focus on the general message.)

I have struggled with my faith, religion, and devotion to my spirituality and my craft before. It would fluctuate between my being completely devoted and loyal one day to unmotivated and tired the next. I always find that there are certain things I can do that help reaffirm my devotion to my craft and spiritual practices. I thought I should share them with you guys.

Especially for those who also follow Satan. I feel losing interest and determination really wrecks with our heads as it’s strictly against the general philosophy and teachings of our Dark Lord. I hope this helps you all :-)

1. Thoughts

The easiest way I get back into the swing of things is by simply thinking about things. You can focus on experiences you’ve had such as prayers and spells that left you feeling alive and strong.

It could be about all the things you’ve done to build up your craft and religious knowledge, or it could be about the tools and objects you’ve worked on and used. Anything that fans the flame within you. This is usually my first step towards regaining my devotion.

2. Ambitions

Another way of thinking that really gets me going is creating goals. This can be as simple as promising to yourself, the Dark Lord, or whatever spirits and gods you work with that you’re going to make an altar in a shoebox.

Maybe even carving a wand, or collecting leaves and plants for mixtures and ritual decoration. It could be as ambitious and extreme as promising to whomever you feel that you’re going to plan a fantastical ritual out in the woods for the upcoming full moon where you dance naked and have everything organised. As long as you make the promise and focus on keeping it.

3. Create + Admire

One of the most creative and inspiring ways to get back into your faith and craft is to create things or to admire creations focusing on your specific religious and spiritual practices. Whenever I feel like it, I go on Pinterest and I look at Satanic art and altars and books and everything related to it.

The imagery, the photography, the symbolism, the passion, the creativity. It all gets me revved up and inspires me. I also love creating things. Specifically tools. I worked on creating my current grimoire for roughly 2-3 months.

I have yet to fully write anything in it but that’s because I’ve been busy with other things and I haven’t had the time to do any research or write in any of my spells and prayers. What I have done though, is made a beautiful opening page which illustrates a Baphomet-like being behind a coloured pentacle with the phrase “In the Devil I trust” written above it. I also sewed the book together by hand, created the cover and put it all together. Throughout the whole creation process I felt inspired and powerful. I felt like I could do anything and I had such a great passion burning through me, and that’s why my favourite thing to do is to create and admire artwork and tools designed for my path.

4. Practice

A few short months ago I felt stumped. I was completely unmotivated and felt like I was going nowhere with my craft. I asked the Dark Lord what to do and every time I asked the question, the answer I would receive always translated to “Just Practise!”. Not practise as in “Practice Makes Perfect” where I should do things over and over to become Perfect™, but practise my craft. You can do tarot, you can write spells, you can read and research different topics, you can write prayers and petitions, you can simply talk to your spirits and the Dark Lord. Whatever you want to do that incorporates your power, do it. You’re a witch, so act like it.

5. Plan

I know that some of you might be assuming that this is just a repeat of the “Ambition” part of this post, but it is somewhat different. Making goals is thinking of something you want to do and figuring out how to go about it. It’s focusing on the end result of achieving it. Planning is focusing on the development of whatever you’re working on. I really like the idea of writing for money and even as a full time career. I’ve read about freelance work and I’ve done some research. I’ve always been told I’m a great writer or that I have potential, and I love writing. I feel like it’s something I could do.

I kept seeing everywhere that one of the best ways to improve your writing was to create a blog. This made me think about the 1, maybe 2(?) blogs I’ve seen on Satanism and Satanic witchcraft. I felt inspired to start my own blog to share my knowledge, experiences and ideas with others like me.

So I immediately started planning how to do it. What would I talk about? What would it look like? How would I make it? This is the difference between a goal and a plan. I have the goal to make a blog, and I focus on the end result and working on it once it’s made, but I’m also planning my blog. I’m learning new things, I’m working on my ideas and refining the blueprint I’ve laid out so far. This has inspired me and the idea of making my own blog makes me feel passionate about it. If you decide on a goal such as a witchcraft related blog, or a business selling divination and spell-work, or making a tarot deck, or writing a book. Anything! Then Plan It!

If you leave something so big as just a goal that’s in the same place in your head as the shoebox altar, or the flower picking, then you’ll never be able to accomplish it. Put the work in and you will feel a fire in you. You’ll feel devoted, successful and powerful. Take you’re craft, take your spirituality, take your dream and your desire, and Make It Happen!

I hope that this helps those of you out there who feel stuck and down in the dumps. It isn’t the end of the world if you feel a little disconnected. Especially to my fellow Satanists out there, I want you to know this. The Dark Lord loves you no matter what you do or how you act. As long as you stay devoted in your mind and soul, it doesn’t matter. To everyone else, I hope that you find inspiration and are able to work past the devotional-blockage that you’re dealing with.

----

Source: A Deleted Tumblr Blog (dubh-linn-lad)

[fang-natic]

Sing, Nightingale (part 1) - keigo tamaki x top!reader

You needed to know what he knew, but he wasn't going to give it up without a fight. Not that that matters. You know exactly what kind of fight to give him.

cw: kidnapping, noncon, bondage, mild knifeplay, orgasm denial, bdsm elements, humiliation, blackmail, drugging, needles, overstimulation, wing kink (is that what we're calling it)

an: i said i'd do it so i did. i dont know why i did it. or why it's so fucking long (gdocs says it's 1.3k, what the fuck). but i read some oneshots and did some limited browsing of the wiki so here you go. if you see something that doesn't make sense with the canon, no you don't <3

now i need to write a part 2 for this where you actually get to fuck him stupid. part 2 will probably establish reader to be amab, but you can read this part one as gn!reader

"So, who are you working with?" Hawk asks, cheeks still pink from where you'd ripped the duct tape off. "The Liberation Front? Some evil-League-offshoot? Or are you rogue?"

God, he's talkative. His wings are depleted to ragged, feathery stumps and ropes are criss-crossed over his arms and torso. He's on his knees right now, legs spread with shins bound to his thighs, and a bruise forming nicely on his cheek. Despite that, he still has the gall to mouth off.

You respond with another sharp backhand, this time across the other cheek, sending him careening to the side. "That's none of your concern," You drawl. "You're simply here to tell me what you know, and I'm here to learn it. However long that takes is up to you."

He slowly draws himself back up, shaking his head. He spits some blood onto the floor - "Damn, bit my cheek," he mutters - and looks up at you again. Still no fear in those golden eyes. A lazy grin on his abused face. "You get right to the point, huh? Damn, I like you a lot better than the other villains already."

"Then I take it that you'll be cooperative?"

"Ha, fuck no."

You kick him this time. Not hard enough to break his neck, but you catch him upside the chin, and hear the sharp clack of his teeth snapping together. His head almost droops to the floor in pain before he catches himself. "Almost felt that one."

"You're insufferable." You debate kicking him again, but you need his jaw intact so he can actually give you the info you need.

"That's what they all tell me," He laughs around the blood in his mouth. "Don't flatter yourself by thinking you're the first one to catch me. Plenty of other villains have tried the same thing, and none of them have actually made me sing. You're not gonna be very different."

"I wouldn't be so sure."

You crouch down with a knife in hand, and start the process of cutting away his clothes. He shivers as you make quick work of his shirt, and you can feel his heartbeat peak against his skin, though that doesn't actually stop the cocky lilt of his voice.

"Ah, classic, classic. The ol 'strip-and-whip' method. Most people buy me dinner first, but you're hot so I can make the exception-" He stutters a bit as you grab the waistband of his pants, jerking it upwards so you can drag the blade down the seams. "Phew, you're thorough, huh? Though I can't blame you, my ass is to die for-"

"You're rambling," You chide him. He's now entirely naked, save for his underwear and the shreds of his clothes that are still pinned do this body by the ropes. "Are you nervous, Keigo?"

"Hey now," He protests. "We're not on a first name basis. And this isn't my first rodeo, so..." He trails off as you pull at the elastic of his underwear so harshly it rips. "Whoa, okay, buy me dinner first." He laughs, but it's pitched a little higher.

"I know the kind of villains you've dealt with, Keigo." You touch the knife under his chin and tilt him up to meet his eyes. Finally, some reaction - his pupils have gone small with poorly-concealed fear. "The ones that use electricity and knives to try and make you talk. But you're a spy, aren't you? You're trained to deal with pain. I could cut you up bloody and you still wouldn't sing."

Your other hand squeezes his thigh, traveling up to his hip, tracing along the curve of his hipbone. "But I'm not like those other villains," You say, voice low and murmured right into his ear, as you press your palm against his cock, feeling it twitch as he yelps. "You're going to wish I was."

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

You have him blindfolded now, and still kneeling in the middle of the cold, concrete room. His cock is stiff and drooling against his abdomen, leashed by a ring at the base. Vibrators hum from where they're clipped to his nipples, and stuffed deep into his ass.

His spine jerks as you play idly with the remote, a whine breaking out behind his clenched teeth. You've been at this for a while now, and he'd been mouthy at first, telling you how this was 'a normal Saturday night for him', and 'I don't need a safeword, don't worry' and 'can I call you daddy or is that off the table.' He'd shut up at the half-hour mark when he realized he was wasting his breath, and that you weren't kidding when you said you had no time limit.

Even so, he was handling things impressively. His bottom lip was bitten raw from where he'd tried to keep quiet, and not once has he begged or pleaded. You were going to need to step things up.

You turn the vibrations down, and he relaxes for an instant, before tensing up the moment he hears your footsteps approach. "What, bored already?" He rasps, making a grin that was more like a snarl. "And here I thought I was putting on a good show."

"I'm about to make it a better one, no worries." You pull the ring off his cock in one quick motion, and it bobbles obscenely. When you lift up a corner of the blindfold, a golden, watery eye blinks back. In your other hand, you hold a syringe, courtesy of Dr. Garaki himself (or pilfered from his laboratory, more like), and he darts between looking at you and it, eying the little needle nervously. "Don't worry, little bird. This isn't a Quirk-eraser or anything like that. It's just going to make you feel things." You pause. "Feel everything, in fact."

"Get away from me," He hisses, facade cracking as you bring the needle down near his neck. You fist your hand in his hair and force his head back, exposing the smooth contour of his throat. "Don't you fucking dare-"

"Whoops," You hum, as you inject him. "Too late."

His entire body shudders, and his eyes goes wide, pupil shrinking to a thin slit, and his mouth drops open in a shaky gasp. Garaki really outdid himself with this one, because the moment you release the hero he's curling in on himself, skin already flushing brightly in the cool air.

"What did-" He groans, throat working in a dry swallow. "What did you fucking do?!"

"It's terrible, isn't it?" You watch as he writhes, trying to position himself in a way that won't make him feel the ropes that are cutting into his skin, or the grit on the floor beneath his knees. "Everything that touches you is now amplified. Like so-" And you demonstrate and dragging one finger along the base of his wing, and he shakes like a leaf, a helpless whimper falling out of his throat. "Isn't that overwhelming?"

He growls, and flaps pathetically. "Don't you fucking touch them."

Ah, that's right. You remember he'd mentioned something about that. In some talk show or another; how he could feel things through his feathers, but only the ones at the base, and how he'd sometimes spend his free time combing through them.

You reach out now and grab one of his wings, squeezing and twisting, feeling all those little feathers tickle at your palm. Keigo, on the other hand, screams as if you shot him, and-

He cums just like that. Splatters white across the gray cement and onto his own stomach. His thighs shaking with the force of it, getting rubbed pink and stinging against the floor, and the blindfold darkens around his eyes with tears. He's gasping for breath like he just finished a race.

You can't help but laugh - one rough touch, and he was undone. You reach down and squeeze his softening cock, and he spasms, shaking his head. "Wai wait wait no, too much it hurts I can't-"

"Sure you can," You twist your hand, and he chokes on air. "Or do you want to be a good boy and finally tell me what I want to know?"

His jaw clamps shut at that, and you sigh. "Guess not." You shrug, and you squeeze a little tighter to watch him cry out.

[innuendostudios]

Thoughts on... some funny games

[no spoilers to speak of]

Thoughts on Lair of the Clockwork God

The wisdom of the gaming cognoscenti insists that comedy is hard to do in video games. Having grown up with Monkey Island and Zork, I've never found this convincing. But one true thing is this: it's hard to write about comedic games. The ineffability of humor is hard enough to describe in less-interactive media; I can't even explain to my partner why Gretchen saying "I met January Jones once!" on You're the Worst busted me up, and they were sitting right next to me when she said it. Throw in the "you had to be there" nature of the player's active participation and I lose myself in a cornfield. The thing I found hilarious might come a beat to early for you, or not at all, or not be funny in text like it is in gameplay.

Why did I like Lair of the Clockwork God? It made me laugh.

The premise and particulars are a lot of "that could go either way." Ben and Dan - stars of Ben There, Dan That and Time Gentleman, Please! - have returned. Ben is still an adventure game star, but Dan has adopted platforming mechanics in an attempt to get with the times. So playing the game involves switching back and forth between a character who can leap across canyons but can't pick up items or talk to people, and one who can combine inventory but can't climb over a 3-pixel rock.

Does that sound potentially funny? Potentially grating? Yes to both!

The plot centers around our heroes trying to save the world from several simultaneous apocalypses and having to teach human emotions to a supercomputer in order to do so. (Don't ask.) These means, rather like Ben There, Dan That, traipsing through a number of fantasy worlds (read: computer simulations) until the correct emotion is provoked. This requires cross-genre cooperation: finding ways to get Ben to areas only Dan can access, getting Dan new power ups by combining objects in Ben's inventory (an act Dan insists on calling "crafting").

The best bits are at these intersections, when Dan's platforming is the puzzliest and Ben's puzzles take advantage of Dan's skills. Periodically the game gives you a Dan-centric platforming gauntlet the controls are NOT precise nor pleasant enough for, or a Ben-only moon logic puzzle that leaves you googling the walkthrough.

But I liked it! A lot. The genre-hopping seems to have invigorated the developers, Ben Ward and Dan Marshall. I discussed my favorite joke in Ben There, Dan That (in what is probably the least popular video I've ever made that wasn't asking for money), but was also dismayed that the game was never that clever again. But this one is, several times over! Progression here involves cheating your way to a better respawn zone, goofing around in game menus, exploiting "glitches," exiting out and loading up entirely other games. There is a lot of poking and prodding at what a game of this nature can or should be.

But, honestly? The only real selling point is... it was funny. The humor is as anarchic and metatextual as in previous titles, but it feels good-natured in a way BT,DT didn't. And there are, here and there, little bits of meat on its bones - the characters wondering if, as a couple thirtysomething white guys, the world hasn't left them behind, no longer comfortable with the juvenile humor of their youth but not really understanding the youth of today, but having not yet fully escaped the mentalities they used to hold. (There's an unspoken humor to Dan's idea of "modern" gameplay being 2D platforming mechanics, especially at a time when adventure games are significantly more popular than on his last outing; this is a good joke whether or not it's intentional.)

Also: this game contains the most poignant urinating-on-a-grave puzzle in gaming history, and you may quote me on that.

Having finished it months ago, I can't even remember what all the gags were that tickled me at the time. Comedy fades from memory faster than drama or frustration. Mostly I just remember having a good time.

Thoughts on The Darkside Detective

Here's a hook: sometime after the mayhem ends in Ghostbusters, The Exorcist, Evil Dead 2, or some other paranormal blockbuster that you watched over and over in the 90's until the VHS wore out, some overworked detective has to come into your town and piece together what the hell happened.

This is his story.

It's a good gag, and the devs wring every drop from it. Existing in a world where these things are commonplace and you have to fit them into some notion of "police procedure" is just funny. Like, it's one thing to have a running gag where you keep observing the moon in outdoor scenes, commenting, with increasing hostility, that its behavior is suspicious (it has been present at multiple crime scenes); it's a slightly different thing when, given the things you've encountered, the moon being the Big Bad is actually somewhat possible.

The game is divided into six main cases and three bonus DLC missions (which come included in the base game now, and the third of which is the proper ending/setup for the sequel). You are the cop tasked to deal with The Other Side - and, when The Other Side bleeds into our own world, its cops have to deal with you. You have a sidekick with a mental maturity of about 6, which I guess makes you the straight man. (You have to grade on a curve to find a straight man in this game.) And you solve tasks like rounding up escaped gremlins or finding an AWOL lake monster all juxtaposed with mundane problems like inter-office squabbles and having not bought your Christmas presents early enough. It's (pleasantly) lo-res and sparsely isolated, so the dialogue and premise do most of the work, but they are ably up to the task.

The gameplay... not so much. I'm an adventure game lifer, so I can put up with a lot of nonsense. It's mostly straightforward inventory puzzles and occasional minigames. Most of the puzzles are fine enough. As the cases progress, things get more involved, and the DLCs especially involve some awful moon logic. And the minigames are not above using that same jumping peg puzzle you've solved in a dozen other games already. So gameplay ranges from serviceable to irritating, but it mostly exists to string together funny lines and silly images. (Christmas mall elves being secretly in service to Krampus - that's the kind of thing we're talking about here.) You won't feel much guilt for opening up a walkthrough; the puzzles aren't why you're here.

The sequel has just been released, and both games are cheap, so check them out if you feel like smiling.

Thoughts on The Procession to Calvary

It's rare for a game to be hilarious to look at.

The Procession to Calvary takes its name from the Bruegel painting. It also takes all it's graphics from Renaissance oil paintings, and the designer delights in making famously rendered heroes and religious icons steal, stab, fart, and swear.

A strong Terry-Gilliam-with-After-Effects vibe is what we're describing.

You play as a lady knight from a war that's just ended, which sucks for you because, in this age of peace, you're no longer authorized to kill. And killing's, like, you're whole thing. But the one person your new, pacifist king wouldn't stop you from killing is the warlord you just deposed, who fled to the South. So you embark on a nonsensical journey to seek out the one human on Earth you are authorized to kill, because killing is just The. Best. Ever.

Of the three games we're discussing, this is the most overtly cheeky, and, at times, the most scatological. I could've done with a bit less scatology, if I'm being honest, but the cheekiness is very winning. As with Lair of the Clockwork God, a lot of jokes could go either way - a field of people being tortured and a woman on a blanket selling commemorative torture merch could be painfully try-hard. But something about the victims being seemingly everyone ever crucified or broken on the wheel in a famous painting, and having them writhe on their crosses in a way that is both gruesome and goofy, and having a cacophonous soundtrack of their screams and moans that you will now imagine every time you look at one of those elegantly elegiac paintings from now on... it works. That the music score is being played by an extremely jaunty piper who dances behind you just out of sword's reach as you traverse the field pushes it over the top.

Oh, and the puzzles, while never hair-pullingly obtuse, will leave you stumped at times. Push past that to get the proper ending, but, if you're sick of trying, you can, at any point, just start stabbing your way through problems. Which, again: it takes a very deft touch to make "protagonist resorts to violence" actually funny rather than lazy and obvious. And maybe, in another game, the perfect timing of every animation, the clever quips, the careful contrast of cathedrals and high-society music halls with gleeful sword-swinging wouldn't be enough. But something about it being frickin' Renaissance paintings carries it the last mile.

This is probably the basest game of the three, but it's also the one that made me giggle the most. Having a BFA that required several art history classes may have something to do with it. But check this thing out.

[shirtlesssammy]

3x14: Long-Distance Call

Guys! We have a special surprise next week!! (Hint: We finally get to recap the gay angel episodes again!) Until then, enjoy our last episode for season 3...

Then:

Sam’s saving his brother no matter what

Now:

On a stormy night, a man drinks alone, contemplating life. His phone rings. It’s Linda. Ben tells her he can’t. “My wife.” He hangs up the phone. It rings again. Linda pleads with him. She loves him. He hangs up again. The phone rings AGAIN. He slams it down repeatedly and tears it from the wall. IT RINGS AGAIN! Damn, Linda, you are persistent. To stop the ringing, Ben pulls out a gun and shoots himself. 

Dean tells Sam they have a case. Sam tells Dean that they’re on a case --his. Dean balks at that because they’ve got nothing. Bela’s gone, the Colt’s gone, and Dean would rather work a case they can solve than wallow in his imminent death. 

They head to Milan, Ohio. They head right to the dead guy’s house and interview his widow. She’s a little belligerent but tells them that there was blood everywhere (Oh, that’s why she’s belligerent), favorite scotch was out, and the phone was ripped from the wall. 

Sam asks to look at the crime scene. He goes through the caller ID. Dean asks about strange phone calls. She admits that a couple weeks prior she picked up on a call that Ben was on. It was static. No one was there. 

Research time!

Dean finds out that “Linda” was Ben’s high school sweetheart --and she died in a car accident. On top of that, she was cremated. On top on top of that, Sam discovered that the caller ID on the phone traces back to a phone number used a century ago! (I presume Sam did all that research while he stared out the window.) 

They head to the bowels of the phone company to find fly infested, porn addicted Stewie. I’m going to skip over all this but will laugh at the ad that said “Order now & receive a bone-us gift!” Sam asks Stewie to trace the old-time number. (Natasha: flames on the side of my face at this damn offensive porn franchise.)

Dean pulls out the threat level 5 on the guy and the guy finds some results. There’s different houses that all received a call from that number. 

Sam heads to investigate one house. He poses as a phone company employee. He asks about strange phone activity. The man that answers the phone says that they haven’t had any issues. Sam notices the daughter looking concerned in the background. 

She pops outside to call his bluff. She wants to know why he was asking about the phones. He gives her a little give and she admits that she’s been talking on the phone with her mom --who’s dead. 

Dean checks in with similar stories. Then he gets a call. It’s the static-y voice of John Winchester. 

Later at the motel, Sam wants to know more about Dean’s call. Dean gets all nervous boy about it possibly really being their dad, and what they should do about it. What should Dean say? Sam, ever the pragmatist, suggests, “hello.” It’s funny, but I guess not really because Dean walks out on his brother. 

Dean comes back with a reason why things are happening here. It’s the birthplace of Thomas Edison, and there’s a museum with Edison’s spirit phone. 

They take a tour but the phone doesn’t have any EMF. They’re stumped as to what’s happening. 

Later that night, while Sam slumbers, Dean stays awake to answer his phone. John calls again. He asks Dean how he could sell his soul. “I was looking after Sammy like you told me to.” (Boris screams into the void) John tells Dean that the demon that holds Dean’s contract is in Ohio. 

Meanwhile, the daughter from earlier is IMing a friend when she gets a message from her dead mom. The mom says she wants to see her. The girl is scared but her mom reassures her that she’s with her. Then the girl’s computer flickers out and in the reflection of the monitor, we see the girl and her mom. 

The next morning, Sam returns from interviewing Lanie, the haunted daughter, to find Dean obsessing over demon omens. He shares his intel with Sam. 

Dean’s pretty sure the demon who owns his contract is following him. I pull a Dean voice to say, “Why are you so obsessed with me?” only Dean’s actual line in the show is “My ass is too sweet to let out of sight.” God. This show. Sam tries to tell him that the demon-killing exorcism that John gave Dean over the phone might not be as advertised. Dean’s a believer, though. He’s got faith in John! (Just gonna take a li’l writing break to tear at my hair.) 

Sam heads back to watch over Lanie, but before he goes the Winchesters hold an emotional shouting match. Dean’s ready to stop the demon from coming after him once and for all and thinks that Sam’s reticence is just more head-butting with their (now dead) dad. Sam accuses Dean of having “blind faith” towards his father and I weep. Sam leaves with one request: that Dean stay put until he returns from seeing Lanie. So. That’s going to go well. 

Lanie explains to Sam what’s been going on - that her mom’s requests have extended beyond the normal grieving cemetery visit. We cut to a young kid playing in his room. His toy phone rings. “Hi, mommy!” he chirps. 

Cut to Dean “Single Man Tear” Winchester sitting dramatically by his phone. It rings. 

Lanie reveals to Sam that her mother’s ghost told her to kill herself. When Sam hears the ghost’s catchphrase, “come to me,” he realizes that they’re dealing with something else entirely. 

While Sam experiences revelation, Dean heads off alone following his dad’s orders. f r o w n y f a c e. He ends up in a quiet, suburban home.

Meanwhile, Lanie’s brother Simon (of the toy phone fame) has gone missing. Sam saves him just in time from getting pancaked by a truck. As soon as the kids are buttoned up back home, Sam calls Dean. He tells him that a crocatta is after the people of the town. It’s a scavenger that lures grieving people and eats their souls. It tends to dwell in filth. Dean recalls the flies at the phone company, so Sam heads out on a hunt. (Meanwhile, YES, Dean’s off having his own questionable adventures, setting demon traps in a nearby house.)

Sam calls Dean for backup before assaulting Stewie, the phone guy. “I know what you are and I know how to kill you,” Sam says to the terrified guy. Someone looms behind Sam with a baseball bat. It’s Clark, the manager! He takes out poor soft-headed Sammy. Unfortunately, Clark takes out Stewie too. 

They both wake up tied to chairs inside the building. Clark kills Stewie and then fangs out. He unhinges his jaw and sucks out Stewie’s soul. Yummy? Clark then lays his hands on the phone console...because it’s time to kill Dean!

Elsewhere, in a police locker room, a man’s phone rings. It’s his daughter. “I know who killed me, daddy,” she says. The girl’s voice tells him that her killer is at their house right now. 

Clark explains to Sam that spoofing John Winchester was incredibly easy. All he had to do was find their phone numbers, then John’s old numbers. That let him listen to voicemails, read emails, and easily find the weak links that led him to target Dean. Oof. (Side note: a crocatta would make a seriously amazing private detective in an alternate Supernatural where monsters have better meal restraint.) 

Dean stands ready at the suburban house - ready to kill a demon. The grieving officer heads home, ready to kill his daughter’s murderer. 

Dean’s jug of holy water is met with an angry father with a shotgun, so things start out really well. They quickly devolve into a dirty fist fight. 

Meanwhile, the crocatta continues to villain-monologue at Sam.

Technology, Clark says, makes it so much easier to target people. They’re connected - yet isolated and easier to pick off. (I scoff at this overdone oversimplification of the role of “technology” in society. I hate when people try to pretend the past was trouble-free.) Sam finds his argument weak as well, and punctuates that by breaking free of his bonds and attacking Clark. 

At the house, Dean disarms the grieving cop and reveals the demon trap below the carpet. He starts reading out the exorcism. To his horror, the guy walks right out of the demon trap. When the guy accuses him of killing his daughter, the pieces click for Dean.

Sam kills Clark by jabbing his head into a retail hook suspended off the wall. OH I SEE, this show has always been obsessed with death by hook. >:| 

Dean and the officer avoid killing each other. Instead, they despair in beaten silence together, before we cut to Dean holding a compress to his forehead back at the motel.

Sam and Dean go over the case back in the motel, but talk quickly switches to EMOTIONS. Sam apologizes to Dean. Dean admits he was wrong. “I wanted to believe so badly,” he says. STORY OF HIS LIFE DAMN IT. He admits that he’s terrified of dying. Terrified of Hell. 

Sam gives him sad puppy eyes. “There’s nothing wrong with having hope.”

“Hope doesn’t get you jack squat,” Dean tells him.

For Sad Boys with Poor Coping Mechanisms Science:

Call Me By Your Quote:

I just talked to an 84 year old grandmother who's having phone sex with her husband, who died in Korea! It redefined my understanding of the word 'Necrophilia'

That’s what happens when you mess with the phone company, dillweed

 Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

[mikkaeus]

lessons from 1000 hours of tutoring high school kids - a letter to my past self

not all those hours were maths, but this is about maths

Not in order of importance; in the order they came to my head. 

1. Do not trust a kid when they say that they understand something. They understand jack shit. Make them explain it back to you. 

2. When teaching sth new try to prod them to reaching the conclusion themselves instead of just straight up explaining it, if time permits. 

3. Things I have assumed and have been sorely mistaken:

a) If an area is identified to be an issue in the lesson, the kid will go and do some questions and revise themselves to fix it.

b) Kids take notes. (I’m still kicking myself for only realising this more than 6 months in with this kid. I get paid too much to be making stupid mistakes like this.)

c) Kids know how to take notes. (Session 1: Take notes, here is a detailed outline that you can then expand on with examples and stuff. Session 2: The kid has copied my scaffold word for word and not expanded anything on it. Me: You need to actually EXPLAIN how to complete the square for example, not just write “completing the square”. Kid: Okay yeah I get it. Session 3: For each topic he’s googled an explanation and copied entire paragraphs word for word, because he “thought they’d phrase it better than him”. He’s using terminology that I 100% guarantee he does not understand at all. I now understand why high school teachers always said use your own words when making notes - something that I had always thought should be blindingly obvious to everyone.)

4. Not everyone is as obsessed with not making mistakes or not being able to solve problems are you are. (For these kids, being stumped at a difficult question isn’t the end of the world.) They think a question ends at figuring out the answer, whether that be from the help of a textbook, the solutions, their friend, or me. You need to impress upon them that it doesn’t matter what the answer is! It’s about what you learn from the question. How was the way they were thinking about the question incorrect? How can they avoid this in the future? What general advice can they give themselves? And then they need to actually commit to reducing incidences of the same mistake in the future. Some kids I’ve been giving the same damn advice to every problem they get stuck on, and magically they can solve it after I give them the advice. Just remember the general advice!! You’re spending all this time studying but you’re running into the same wall over and over again instead of remembering to take the rope out of your bag. I’m not magic! I’m just sitting here reminding you that there IS a rope in your bag!!  (Not that my method of angry scribbling in red pen across my working and writing that I’m a fucking idiot is something I’d actually recommend, but they could definitely afford to be less laissez-faire about learning from their mistakes.)

5. Actually make good notes during the session; otherwise, the kids probably retain nothing. It is kinda awkward to be sitting there writing away but it is a necessarily evil. Also, you can write while they’re chipping away at a question themselves, and that way you don’t need to be watching them like a hawk while they do algebra painfully slowly. (I feel like kids make more mistakes in sessions than they do normally.) 

6. The key to being able to solve a problem is believing that you CAN solve the problem. I’ve been saying this a lot recently - if you follow the rules for maths, there’s no reason it should be wrong - when I have Year 11s and 12s asking me every step of simple algebra if something is correct, or asking whether you’re allowed to do something, and I ask them, “what do you think?” and they reply, “I don’t know.” (Related: Another thing I’ve been saying a lot is that algebra is about doing the same thing to both sides. They just think it’s magic!) Anyway, I brought this up because of problem solving questions actually, not basic algebra. Of course, you can teach them how to break down the question, or general processes like “if you don’t have enough information, go back and check you’ve used everything in the question”, but all that’s useless if they don’t believe that they can solve it by themselves. That means

a) You need to actually encourage them. Even though you’re not a... fluffy or particularly inspiring person, just try. 

b) YOU need to believe that they can do it too. Think of the number of times you’ve been shocked that some kid managed to make a leap of logic you thought was beyond them. Kids are better than you think (and also worse than you think, but we’ve already talked at length about that). 

7. It’s most of the time more beneficial to force the kid to go through the expanded version of the working instead of the abbreviated version. They’re not you, trying to economise as much as possible on working to save precious seconds for rechecking at the end. Don’t push that obsession onto them when their goals and skill level is completely different. Especially if they’re:

a) making silly mistakes

b) not understanding why something works and just following the pattern for a specific context, and then being completely lost in another context. (eg. not being able to use the null factor law for when the factors weren’t linear with a gradient of 1, because they always skipped straight to x= instead of actually writing out each factor equalling zero, and then rearranging). 

8. Stop lecturing for too long. Make sure you’re writing stuff down, not only for the purpose of notes for them to look at later, but because not everyone’s good with auditory learning (you’re one of those people! and yet you subject others to the same shit you rant about out length about your professors!). Make them do work through a problem or part of a problem or ask them questions or something. 

9. A lot of kids do not know how to study properly. A few important things:

a) Do not automatically look back at past questions when solving a Q. You need to treat every question as completely new, and only look back if you’re stuck. That way you force active recall every question and thus making sure you’re actually remembering what the process is. You don’t get any worked examples in your exam. 

b) I do not know how this is every single fucking kid but knowing how to use your dang calculator saves lives!! It’s literally 50% of your grade and you’re sitting there two days before your exam struggling to graph a parabola??? After all the hours you poured into studying the content? Yes your calculators are gross and unfriendly but they’re your best friend. Not only should you know how to use them, you should be fast at using them, and you should know everything it can do that could be remotely helpful. 

c) Sit full exam papers under exam conditions. That shit is like gold and kids are piddling it away by just leisurely working through one question at a time with the help of their textbook (and me). 

d) Print out the formula sheet, and use it. Know what’s on there and what’s not. 

I don’t know if this is a pretty standard experience for people with a track record of excellent academic results* (by this I mean just assuming some things are obvious to everyone) or if I’m particularly bad because I’ve always only interacted with a very narrow range of people. anyway feels fucking bad for my kids but. im trying. god knows ive come a long way since i first started.

*or as I prefer to state it, a track record of being a huge fucking nerd

[hoist-the-colours-podcast]

Hi! It is I.... Your friendly neighbourhood anon back again. I just have one more question: IF Muldoon and/or Miranda had survived how do you think Flint and Silver’s relationship would have developed over seasons 3 and 4?

Hello again! Ooooh boy, that’s a question and a half! I’ll be honest, it’s been a minute since I last rewatched S3 and S4, so I might’ve forgotten some significant stuff, but here’s some rambling thoughts under the cut anyway. 

I think Miranda’s the one whose survival would most obviously change the way Flint and Silver’s relationship developed. Without her death (and the subsequent fuck around and find out consequences handed out to Charlestown) Flint wouldn’t have headed down such a dark and destructive solitary path. Flint is clearly a character who always needed a partner to ground him, as he was meant to be the grounding partner for Thomas, and I think that although Miranda struggled to fill that role at times, because of her own rage and desperation as much as Flint’s, it would be so much more difficult for Silver to have found a way to worm in as close as he did if she was still occupying that space. Having said that though, assuming in this version of events Silver still lost his leg then I think that warmth we saw Flint offer him so briefly in 2x10 might have carried further. The lie about the gold would still have been an obstacle - and I wish we could’ve seen some of the stuff that happened between S2 and S3 with Flint, Jack, and Vane hashing all of that out between them - but Miranda was such a force for reason in Flint’s life (with one or two notable exceptions, haha) that I think they could’ve got past it without the pressure of the doldrums and all the consequences of Flint’s mental downward spiral. And this is pretty headcanon-y but personally I’ve always imagined Miranda would’ve quite liked Silver. I think there’d be a healthy amount of ‘I see through your bullshit’ in there too, but after a decade of starving for intelligent conversation I don’t think it would’ve gone unnoticed that Silver was quicker and wittier than most other people on that island. It’s only a shade of Miranda conjured by Flint’s mind that tells him he’s not alone, but I don’t find it hard to imagine the real Miranda pointing out the same thing.  I think so much comes down to what events would’ve surrounded Miranda’s survival and what that would mean for Flint’s headspace and journey, honestly. Whether he would still be on a warpath, still have a mind towards reconciliation, or have reached the point where he’d finally had enough and was ready to retire inland with her. Any path that saw him carry on as a captain would’ve meant having to work with Silver as quartermaster, and there would’ve been plenty of opportunities for Silver to rebuild that tentative thing the lie broke and to foster something closer. It’s difficult to know whether Silver was so different to Gates in terms of the relationship he found with Flint because of something inherent to him and his similarities with Flint or because he was in the ‘right’ time and place to be Flint’s only companion and confidant. It was probably a mix of both. And I think right from the get go there’s a level of kismet implied by the writing, that Silver is Flint’s missing page. There were so many times he could’ve just bailed on Flint but he didn’t, at huge risk to himself, and I don’t buy for a second that it was all for the gold. I think Silver told himself it was all for the gold, and he might even have believed it, but he spent the first two seasons tying himself to Flint and that crew to the point that he chose his brothers almost over his own life 2x10 despite everything he’d said about leaving them all behind without a second glance. And speaking of his brothers, Muldoon! I’m a bit stumped on this one, honestly! I want to say that if he’d lived then his relationship with Silver might’ve developed further (because it sure seemed like they were getting close to one another), and maybe a close connection with one of the men he spoke for would’ve put some additional distance between Silver and Flint. But again I feel like if that was a scenario where Flint was alone and raging then Silver would’ve still had no choice but to find a way to build a partnership with him, for all their sakes. And honestly it’s kind of funny to imagine Silver ultimately juggling three partnerships, with Muldoon, Flint, and Madi (four if you want to count Billy too, five if you count Israel Hands), because my god for a loner he became a Special Person to a lot of people. I think the Muldoon question becomes more interesting towards the end of S4 when Silver’s becoming this iconic, monstrous character in a story he can’t control. There are so few people left who remember where he came from in S1, and Silver’s becoming increasingly disconnected from and elevated over the brothers he cared so much about in S3. If Muldoon was still alive in S4 and he still had Silver’s ear then I wonder whether he could’ve been more of a tether than Madi ended up being (with her idealism making her in some ways a second Don Quixote for Silver’s Sancho to reckon with) and also more of an obstacle to Israel Hands becoming that devil on Silver’s shoulder. But then maybe that’s asking too much of Muldoon!  God, this really is a long and rambling non-answer! I guess ultimately there are so many interwoven moving pieces in this story that it’s impossible to know how it would’ve played out in any of those scenarios, but I think if either or both of them survived it might’ve delayed the relationship we saw between them but not prevented it? As it was, they were forced closer together by circumstance in S3 and S4, but there was still that sense that somehow they were meant to find each other because they were made of the same stuff. Or at least, that’s how I see it. As for the ultimate ending of their partnership...oof, who even knows how additional players would’ve impacted that. What I really need now is a long and angsty time loop fic exploring every permutation of this.

[hiswordsarekisses]

An Anonymous Letter: “I want you to know for sure and never have any fear or question about Gods love for you. First thing that comes to mind is the woman at the well and the woman caught in adultery- in the very act. So so much jam packed in there, so many lessons- but what I want to point out is, it seems they knew the law and yet fell. Because we are human. Did they do it intentionally? I don’t know. But look at the woman at the well- it was looked down upon for Jews to even talk to Samaritan’s and a WOMAN at that!

Jesus said go, call your husband and come here. She said “I have no husband” what did he say? “You said well you have no husband, for you have had 5 husbands and the one whom you have now is not your husband- in that you spoke truly” 🤚 wait a minute right...why didn’t he condemn her right then? He actually proved to her that He has insight that He shouldn’t have if He was just an ordinary man and she saw that. He didn’t condemn her.

Now pause, let me say this. This is great -

Okay so, according to the law, if a woman commits adultery the man can not be restored to the woman. They are severed right? So like we know that Eve, Adam, Israel, and all of the rest of us have broke the law of Moses- that was the marriage vows. But they were broken, and therefore severed since Eve- spiritually speaking, we committed adultery on God with the devil. And God can’t go against His own word so we weren’t able to be restored to Him. But God made provision in that He sent Jesus Christ as the perfect lamb of God that would free us from those marriage vows so that we may be restored to Him. The only way, if the man divorces his wife for adultery, for the woman to be set free from being bound to that man is if the man dies, so that’s exactly what Jesus did for us.

All along the way, with Israel, the entire Old Testament is painted with promises that He would make provision but they were stumped and didn’t know how He would. Look at Passover - before He poured out the plagues on Egypt, He had them all take the blood of the unspotted lamb and paint it on their doors. That’s us!!! Accepting the blood of Christ so that He can seal us for Himself and save us from the wrath to come on the wicked.

So once this woman at the well realized this is HIM- she ran and spread the good news. He never ever condemned her. He knew what she needed. And it wasn’t condemnation that she needed.

Now look at the woman caught in adultery- he saved her life and told those Jews the truth. They knew they not only needed more than 2 or 3 witnesses but where was the man? According to the law they said they followed, they must have both the man and the woman. But they, of course, only had the woman.

So Jesus was like where are those accusers of yours?? And she’s like none are left and He said NEITHER DO I CONDEMN YOU, GO, SIN NO MORE.

These are POWERFUL words right here. We first need to know that we aren’t condemned, Bc quite frankly, those of us with a conscience lol, we can really really be so hard on ourselves when we mess up. Time and time again, every single day we fall. But Jesus is there like “I’m not condemning you, get up, try again- I’ll help you” His burden is light, His yoke is easy (if you haven’t ever looked up yoke, Google just that word and go to images, that’s you and Jesus, pulling this out together).

You KNOW He is who He says He is and that He can do what He says He can do. So therefore, you have faith. You have the testimony of Jesus Christ, you believe He came in the flesh, died on the cross and rose again. NOW this is where

the word of your own testimony comes up. (revelation says they overcame by the blood of the lamb and the word of their testimony) (and no one can take that from you, no one can tell you that what happened in you isn’t from God Bc we’ve already tried to do it ourselves and could not. No one can take the word of your testimony from you). What God is doing in you is His great work. Everything good in us is from Him and that is why we have nothing to boast about, we know who we were and we know who we are now and we know that it is Gods work, not ours.

I can’t tell you how long it took me to realize I couldn’t do it on my own. Try and fail over and over again. I can’t even go into the things I have done, even as a Christian, even since the word of my testimony kicked in and Gods work truly became seeable....things that I absolutely want gone, yet fail consistently.

We just simply have to get back up and try again. And when we cling to our sin and don’t want to let it go but at the same time want to let it go- this is where His mighty strength comes in. This is where we just say God, I know your will, I know I am full of all these countless things and yet I can’t seem to fully break free. I need you to really do this for me, change my perspective on it, replace my will with your will, cause me to walk the way you walked- set your will before my face and cause me to walk in it. I’m weak, I’m only human, I’ve tried doing this thing and I can’t.

If I told you some of the things I have struggled with, you would be like 🤦🏼‍♀️.

You aren’t condemned. He is right there. There is a different thing in you, you acknowledge your stuff, you don’t want the stuff. If you were wicked and not saved, you would have no type of conscience, you would have been given over to a debase mind to do those things unfitting, believing the lie and therefore you wouldn’t even have the mindset that you do and you wouldnt care if you were saved or unsaved- you’d be too busy relishing in your sin.

I think we just simply lose sight of that balance. You know I was an abuser of grace my entire life (and then) I became legalistic and I actually remember thinking “I’m missing something, this is supposed to be easy and light but it is not! God I can’t do it good enough, I’m never going to make it. Look at all these things. What do I even start with.” I fought and fought and fought to just DO IT! And I hated myself.

And that’s where weed and any substances started being my best friend. Between that and my lack of healed issues - it was a case for disaster. That’s more than half the reason why I was on anti depressants. So then I was even more self condemned over all of that.

God used it all. It got me to a place of humbling where I realized I can’t get myself into heaven. I tried. And I was MISERABLE. And I cried out to God and told Him I can’t even meet You half way. I need you to come all the way to me and save me, I need you to do it through me” and I fully acknowledge that every change within me is for His glory and done by Him and not myself. That’s why I can’t judge anyone else’s struggles. We are supposed to call out sin, yes absolutely! Bc I might start sinning and not even realize it. Or maybe I didn’t know it was a sin and I need guidance or something. But there’s balance in even that and that area I struggle with where the balance is. But in my season of working my way to heaven, I realized I can do nothing good without God. So who am I, a sinner without capability of laying down my own wretchedness, to judge the law God is writing on someone else’s heart?

We are His work, His art work if you will. How can one art piece who has the clouds done first look at the other art piece and condemn him for not having clouds. It’s not within the art piece to create the clouds. It’s for the Great Artist to create the clouds. Did we create our own clouds? So we are judging the law and condemning the law and that doesn’t make us doers of the law, but a judge. But I haven’t reached the other side of that where you learn when to warn someone and when not to. I think it’s the whole like condemning someone and saying they won’t make it to heaven but I’m not sure.

What ever is hindering you, whatever makes you feel like you won’t make it to heaven, it’s not too much for God. He’s got you and He’s willing to do all of it. All we have to do is surrender, tell Him we can’t do it and don’t even have the desire to do it...but that we want to desire to do good and that we need Him to intervene on our behalf, even if it hurts, even if it’s uncomfortable.

(Anonymous)

“My sheep hear My voice, and I know them, and they follow Me. And I give them eternal life, and they shall never perish; neither shall anyone snatch them out of My hand. My Father, who has given them to Me, is greater than all; and no one is able to snatch them out of My Father’s hand. I and My Father are one.” John‬ ‭10:27-30‬

He is fighting for us!

[believingispowerfulmagic]

“A Second Chance” Chapter 3: The Reveal

"How are you feeling this morning?" Robin asked, setting a cup of tea down in front of Regina as she worked at her desk.

She smiled as she picked it up. "Much better. It seems the books were right - morning sickness does subside in the second trimester."

"That's good," he said, sitting down. "How are the cravings?"

"Manageable for now. I really crave fruit," she replied.

He laughed, finding that absolutely perfect for his health-conscious friend. "That baby truly is your child."

She chuckled. "If he were truly my child, I'd be craving chocolate."

"I guess so," he replied, thinking of all the different places she would hide chocolates when they lived together. "And I'll guess we'll have to see what other cravings you develop."

"They are just getting started, I'm sure of that," she agreed. She took a sip of her tea before setting it back down. "So what's on the schedule for today?"

He pulled out the document Mal had left for him and slid it across the desk for her to read. "Announcing your pregnancy, if you're ready."

"Not today," she replied, looking it over. "I have an appointment with Whale tomorrow. I want to get through that before we announce anything."

Robin nodded, jotting that down on his notepad. "I'll let Mal know. Maybe we can do it at the end of the week."

"Good." She looked down, biting her lip, before asking him: "Can you come with me tomorrow?"

"Of course," he replied, not bothering to check his calendar. He would just move everything to be there for her.

Relief filled her eyes and she sat back. "Thank you. I feel better knowing I won't be alone."

He reached out and took her hand. "You may be raising this baby on your own but you are never alone. Not as long as I'm around."

She smiled, tears filling her eyes. Laughing, she released his hand to wipe them away. "Damn hormones. God only knows what else they'll make me do."

"It's certainly going to be an adventure," he replied.

"Yes, it is," she agreed. She sat up again. "Okay, what else?"

He glanced down at his agenda and made a face. "Gold wants a meeting. Probably about the same thing he always does."

She groaned. "I think he owns too many properties as it is and that he's an awful landlord. I am not going to give him free reign over almost all of Storybrooke just so he can line his own pockets."

"It's just me. You don't have to give me the stump speech," he teased her.

Regina chuckled, shrugging. "Just a habit."

"So what should I tell Gold?" he asked, poised to write down her answer. He waited though he knew what it would be.

"That we cannot fit him in at this time as his proposal is not urgent," she replied, busying herself with the papers on her desk.

He nodded, writing it down. "I will have Tink let him know. She has the best touch with him."

Regina smiled. "She's our own Gold-whisperer."

"Alright, I think that's everything for now," he said, standing. "I'll let you get to work. I'll see you for lunch?"

"You afraid I'll forget to eat?" she asked him teasingly.

He shrugged. "I figured you would want some company. Beats eating at our desks, right?"

"That's true," she agreed. "It's a lunch date then."

"I'll be back around one then," he told her, heading toward the door. He paused, looking back at her. "If you need anything, just give me a call."

She gave him a look before waving him off. "I know, Robin. Don't worry about me."

He gave her a smile and then left the office. Robin greeted Tink before making the short trip to his office, only a couple doors down from Regina's. After closing his door, he settled into his chair and let out a sigh.

Robin glanced up at the picture frames on his desk. He only had a couple but they each meant so much to him. The first was a picture of his parents, who still lived back in England. Despite the distance, they were still close and he tried to call them every other day while video chatting with them once a week. They were so proud and supportive of him, even if they missed him dearly.

The next picture was of him and Regina at her inaugural ball. She wore a beautiful black gown while he wore a tuxedo. They stood close together, holding champagne flutes as they smiled at the camera. When she had told him that she wanted to run for mayor, he had not hesitated in becoming her campaign manager. He was by her side the entire time, believing in her even when no one else - including herself - did. And when she won on Election Day, he had never been prouder.

And the final picture was the sonogram he had gotten from Regina's first doctor's appointment. The white blob in it was barely discernible to be a baby but it didn't matter. He already thought it was the most beautiful baby on earth just because Regina was incredibly beautiful. And though he hated to admit it, Daniel was a very good-looking man. Their child was already blessed genetically.

He or she was also blessed to have Regina as their mother.

Robin reached over and picked up that frame, smiling at his future godchild. Or at least he assumed he would be the godfather. He and Regina hadn't exactly talked about his role in her child's life. Would he just be the fun uncle or did she want him to be more of a father figure to him or her?

Did he want to be the fun uncle or did he want to almost be a father to the baby?

He picked up the picture of the sonogram and sighed as he leaned back in his chair, studying it. Daniel had been right. Robin had wanted to be many things and he had achieved all of them - he had a good job in politics and was successful, he had his own apartment, and he had been a husband, even if his marriage to Regina had been brief. The only thing he had yet to achieve was to be a father. He loved children and he wanted at least one of his own to raise, to teach, to guide, but most of all to love.

Was Daniel right about him wanting to slide in and become a father to Regina's child? Did he see this pregnancy as his chance to experience that bond? Did his heart harbor an ulterior motive to being by Regina's side during her pregnancy?

Setting the picture down again, he shook his head. He was helping Regina because she was his friend and he cared for her. And he would accept whatever role she chose to give him in her child's life. He wouldn't push for anything and be happy with whatever he got.

Pushing thoughts of Regina and her baby aside, Robin focused on his work. There would be plenty of time to figure everything out later.

Keep reading on FFN, AO3 or Wattpad

[spaceorphan18]

1-15 for the writers meme for ‘With Every Broken Bone.’ (I’m in a rereading mood for fanfic and I’m thinking about rereading this). Also you know I love this one!!

Aww thank you dear <3 Now I won’t shut up about process and the ins and outs of writing, lol... 

1: What inspired you to write the fic this way?

When season 6 came along, admittedly, I had a really hard time reconciling going from a happy ending in season 5 to broken in season 6.  And writing about it kind of was an interesting cross-section of therapy and analysis.   While I was figuring out the timeline of events -- I noticed that there were some interesting parallels/juxtapositions going on, and because I thought I may not be writing more Klaine fic after this one (ha) I might as well take my own spin on a few famous portions of Klaine’s story.  

2: What scene did you first put down?

I tend to write chronologically, so the opening flashback scene was probably first.  I can’t fully remember.  I did have a whole outline, though, before writing. 

3: What’s your favorite line of narration?

Hmmm, I’m not entirely sure, since a lot of the specific narration I don’t remember as much anymore.  I do love the entire month of June chapter, though, which is mostly narration.  I love that it’s Kurt finally getting what he thought he wanted -- to be alone -- and finding himself through that, but also that even he can experience loneliness when having too much distance from everyone else.  

Also early in the story when Kurt goes dancing with a guy and he starts to connect to him -- feeling Blaine through him -- only to realize the dude isn’t Blaine and basically has a panic attack.  That moment was always really clear in my head, and I liked writing that one.  

4: What’s your favorite line of dialogue?

Oh, ha, it’s, like, my favorite line of dialogue ever, cause it’s a delightful metaphor for Klaine’s story at the time (And I’m sure people aren’t really that impressed with what I find clever, and are sick of me quoting myself, but I’m still amused by it) 

“You know what it’s like?  It’s like I stubbed my toe.  And my toe hurt. A lot.  And I tried to ignore the pain in my toe, but after a while it got so bad that something had to be done.  So, instead of taking care of my toe, I chopped off my foot.  Do you know how much worse chopping off your foot feels? Of course it took me four months to figure out how much it fucking hurts.  And now I don’t have a foot.  Just a bloody stump.  I shouldn’t have cut it off.  I could have fixed the toe.”

In addition, I also really enjoy some of the convos with Mercedes -- the one where she’s discussing her break up with Sam, and how, in a way, the two break ups are similar.  I also love the July flashback with Mercedes -- because it foreshadows a lot of the story, and I thought it was rather clever.  

5: What part was hardest to write?

The July chapter! Oh god, I think I had most of the rest of the fic done and kept having to put that on pause.  I wanted Kurt to have another romantic interest during the summer - and get a sense of what casual relationships are like, and discover what he’s like in relationships that aren’t with Blaine.  And to have to do that, set it up, pay it off, go through the whole thing and have it be meaningful was really hard.  It took a long time to figure it out.  

Not as difficult, but still I found challenge with, the flash back to the first break up.  Trying to figure out how Kurt felt differently, and exploring how it was a different thing in a short amount of time was difficult. 

The September flashback was difficult, too, because I needed Blaine to be frustrated without being too needy, or too much a bad guy.  I know betas and talking it out helped a lot on that one. 

6: What makes this fic special or different from all your other fics?

This was my first big fic for Glee, and the first one where I felt like I was a decent writer.  It also helped me figure out Kurt and the show in a way that I hadn’t before, and I love the character more from writing it.  

7: Where did the title come from?

The lyrics of ‘I Lived’ -- I thought it was a nice touch that it was the last song on the show, and it fit with story I was trying to tell.  

8: Did any real people or events inspire any part of it?

Yes! A lot of my experiences of New York I wrote into it here and there.  

Also the story about thunder being god bowling.  I had a cousin who used to tell me that so it didn’t seem so scary. 

9: Were there any alternate versions of this fic?

Not really? The only big thing I cut out was an extension of the stuff with June Dalloway in chp 3 (?) -- my betas talked me into cutting that way down, and they were right to do so.  

10: Why did you choose this pairing for this particular story?

I mean, well, they’re who I write. The pairing picked the story. 

11: What do you like best about this fic?

I really love the story it explores with Kurt in it.  I’m proud of how Kurt grows in it, and how I feel it does bridge the two seasons nicely.  I really love how it gets deep into Kurt’s psyche -- drawing on canon as much as I could to paint a full picture of who he is.  I think he’s a fleshed out and flawed character, and he feels real to me in this one.  

I also really love that I was restrained in my use of Blaine -- he’s a ghost that haunts this story, and I was fascinated with the idea.  I think it really comes through.  Blaine is always there, even when he’s not, even when Kurt’s trying hard to move on.  You miss Blaine in the story, but that’s intentional -- because Kurt deeply misses Blaine.  

12: What do you like least about this fic?

There are still some parts that feel a little clunky to me.  Certain sections that maybe go on too long, or not long enough.  I can tell it’s an earlier fic of mine -- I could have worked on better and more concise sentence structure in a lot of places.  I could have fleshed a few ideas out.  And the October chapter, which is all of season 6, goes on a little too long -- and it feels slightly out of place, but I knew it did even when writing it -- I’m not sure how I’d re do it, but it feels slightly different than the rest of the fic.  

I give myself a lot of leeway because it was my first time writing one, but the sex scene was a bit on the simple side.  It felt more like an obligation - and I was super scared to write it, and basically my betas had to help me construct it cause I had no idea what I was doing and felt funny writing it.  

I also think the Nov. flashback is a little too cheesy, but I was trying to get in all the last minute canon references, so I left it in there.  

13: What music did you listen to, if any, to get in the mood for writing this story? Or if you didn’t listen to anything, what do you think readers should listen to to accompany us while reading?

Yeah, I had a whole playlist for this one!! 

Chapter 1 (March): Teenage Dream - Darren Criss

Chapter 2 (April): Shake it Out (Acoustic) - Florence and the Machine

Chapter 3 (May): Rockstar - A Great Big World

Chapter 4 (June): I Shall Believe - Sheryl Crow

Chapter 5 (July): Daydream Believer - Mary Beth Maziarz

Chapter 6 (August): Dream City - Free Energy

Chapter 7 (September): Head Over Feet (Acoustic) - Alanis Morissette

Chapter 8 (October): Halo - Beyonce

Chapter 9 (November): I Live - Fate Under Fire

Each of the chapters kind of had a musical aesthetic going on with it! Also intentional were the use of Kurt solos as chapter titles -- those paired along with each chapter purposely.  

14: Is there anything you wanted readers to learn from reading this fic?

I have no idea - that’s up to them to get anything out of it.  

15: What did you learn from writing this fic?

I did! I learned a lot about writing (which having a few fantastic betas really be strict with my writing helped a lot).  I got myself out of some bad habits, and tried to be more introspective than I had been with previous writings.  And I just felt like I stepped up when it came to writing.  I think this is far from a perfect piece of writing, but I’m proud of how it turned out. 

I also learned a lot about Kurt, he became a part of me writing this, and now his story is much more special to me than it had been before.  And I learned a lot about Glee -- how it is as a show, and how it works, cause I looked at the structure of canon, and how it was written.  

[abundanceofsoph]

SkyFire 2: Chapter 9

Harry comes home: July 2016

Word count: 2.4k

Fair warning, I know absolutely nothing about prosthetics and I've made all of this up, especially all the new tech that Tony and Peter have designed.

The song Louis and Rori write in this chapter is Turn The Lights Down by Cavalcade

SkyFire 2 MASTERLIST

>Instagram posts

A week before Harry was expected home, Louis was still staying with them and he accompanied Aurora as she stepped into her fathers’ workshop.

“JARVIS said you needed me,” she said when they stepped through the glass door.

“We’re ready for testing,” Peter announced excitedly, gesturing to the prototype hand he had been helping Tony to build for the last few months.

“I haven’t met with a prosthetist yet,” Aurora pointed out. “Not sure I’m meant to be trying anything on yet.”

“No need,” Tony explained. “We just want to test out the neural connection to see if you can operate it.”

Aurora nodded in understanding, Peter having excitedly explained some of the science to her weeks ago. She hadn’t really understood most of what he’d said but she’d been able to grasp the basics. She swept her hair out of the way, allowing Tony to slip an electronic device around her left ear that looked a little like a hearing aid without the part that went in the ear itself.

“What is that thing?” Louis asked, watching on with interest.

“Normally the way the body works is that the brain sends a message down the spine to tell certain muscles to move. This device will pick up on that neural message and convert it into an electronic signal,” Tony explained, oversimplifying a process that had taken him and Peter months to design. “If we’ve got this right, that signal will be picked up by the prosthetic and move the hand.”

“So, you’re saying that Rori will be able to use the prosthetic hand just like it was connected to her and part of her body?” Louis asked, his voice laced with awe in the face of something he would have thought only possible in science fiction.

“That’s the idea,” Tony replied. “We want to avoid fusing the prosthetic to the skeleton like Bucky’s is. This way will be a lot less invasive and less painful.”

“Two things I am all for,” Aurora joked, attempting to shake off her own nerves.

“Ready?” Tony asked.

“Yep,” she said. “What do I do?”

Tony tapped away at his tablet for a brief moment, monitoring the connection between the device on her ear and the prototype hand. “Ok,” he finally said. “The transmitter is sitting correctly and it’s picking up everything. Rori, I want you to close your eyes and try to clench your left hand into a fist.”

Aurora followed her father’s instructions and the three men held their breath; the prosthetic on the table in front of her didn’t move. “Did it work?”

“Not yet,” Tony said. “It might be easier if you try to do this with both hands, just to give you something physical to focus on. Try to make a fist with both hands.”

They all watched as the fingers on her right hand curled up to form a fist, again the prosthetic remained unmoving. They continued on for another 20 minutes, trying different things to no avail.

“I don’t get it,” Peter huffed. “The device is picking up all the correct signals, but nothing’s working.”

“It’s not the device,” Tony replied. “Aurora’s spent the last 10 months not moving her left hand. Before the amputation her brain spent 6 months teaching itself not to move it because it used to cause pain. We need to train her brain to rebuild those pathways.”

Louis had been watching on in silence, not wanting to interrupt. Without a word he stood up and left the workshop. Everyone watched him go, confused by his abruptness. “I guess he’s not very patient,” Peter mumbled. “Don’t worry Aurora, we’ll work this out.”

She smiled back at him. “I know you will Pete.”

Louis returned a few minutes later, carrying the keyboard from the recording studio down the hall. “What about trying this?” he asked, placing it in front of Aurora. “You’ve been playing for over a decade. If your brain needs to remember how to use both hands, it knows how to play. You could do this with your eyes closed.”

“Louis, you’re a genius!” Tony exclaimed, smiling broadly.

“I’ve been trying to tell her that for years,” Louis joked, elbowing Aurora in the side. She laughed loudly, the tension leaving her body.

“Alright kiddo,” Tony said, turning back to his daughter. “Wanna play us something?”

She placed her right hand over the keys, the stump of her left arm resting on the table as if the ghost of her hand was also extended towards the keyboard. She took a deep shaking breath and began to play. At first it was disorientating; in her head she was playing both the left and right hand of the piece but only half of the notes were actually being played. She pushed through the discomfort, focusing on visualising her left hand dancing across the keys. She knew she’d done it when Peter let out an ecstatic whoop. She looked away from the keyboard to watch in fascination as the fingers of the prototype twitched and bent as if playing. A wide grin split across her face and tears spilt down her cheeks, her hand faltering, the song stuttering as she watched the prosthetic move.

“Holy shit,” she murmured. “You did it. Dad, you did it!”

She launched herself from her seat and into Tony arms, hugging him tightly as she cried. “I knew you would but oh my god. I’m really going to be able to play again. I’m going to get my life back. Thank you.”

xXx

By the time Harry returned to New York the following week, Aurora, Peter and Tony had conducted many more tests and work had begun on creating a wearable version of the prototype so that it would be ready when Aurora met with her prosthetists in a few weeks’ time. As a result, she had been in an excellent mood, one that was contagious, bringing smiles to the faces of all the residents in the tower. The mood was instantly apparent to Harry when he finally arrived at the tower, thanking Happy for the lift before taking the elevator up to the penthouse. Since Aurora had always enjoyed surprising Harry by arriving unexpectedly or earlier than planned, he had told her he was arriving the following day, and so he dropped his bags in the living room before going  in search of her. Steve was in the kitchen when Harry arrived, they hugged briefly, and Steve welcomed him back before directing Harry downstairs to where he found Rori in the recording studio with Louis. He smiled as he watched them together. Louis was sat on the sofa playing his guitar as Aurora danced around the studio singing.

Turn the lights down We're gonna shut it out Close your eyes now We won't know tomorrow Only one night No one's gonna see you here No one's gonna hear you clear

Harry continued to watch as Louis added his own voice to Aurora’s, the sound of a piano playing out of the speakers in the ceiling, clearly something they’d recorded earlier.

I saw you walking through the street Street lights bright on your misery Stumble down falling from your feet No one understands you

Louis stopped playing when he spotted Harry watching them, a grin lighting up his face and drawing Aurora’s attention. The next line of the song died in her throat when she saw him, rushing across the room to jump into his arms. The piano track continued to play in the background as he lifted her into the air, spinning them around as he kissed her.

“I missed you so much,” she murmured against his lips. “I’m so glad you’re home.”

“Missed you too my love,” he replied, chuckling as she planted kisses across his cheeks, her legs wrapping around his waist so that he couldn’t set her back down on her own feet.

Over dinner that night Harry was caught up on much that he had missed while he was away and shared his own tales from set. Once the meal was over and they all migrated over to the sofas, Aurora curled up in Harry’s lap, her head resting against his shoulder as conversation swirled around them. One of his hands absently rubbed along her spine, a pint clasped in the other as he chatted away with Louis, happily looking at all his photos of baby Freddie.

xXx

In the initial weeks following the amputation back in April, Aurora’s arm had been heavily bandaged and, in a bid to regain her independence, she had chosen to go alone when she returned to her doctor for her check-up appointments. Because of this, Harry had left for France to film Dunkirk before she was ready to have the limb exposed. So, it wasn’t until he was back in New York, 3 Months after the surgery that Aurora finally had to prepare herself to show him. Thus far she had avoided anyone other than her doctors seeing the stump without its compression stocking and despite growing comfortable with the other scars she had collected, she still felt vulnerable in an entirely new way showing it. Despite feeling exposed, she knew that if she was ever going to learn to be comfortable with her new body, Harry was the first person she needed to show it to. Rationally she knew that it wasn't like he would recoil in horror or anything, but she still felt nervous as she sat down facing him on her bed the day after he came home.

“H?” she began hesitantly.

“Yeah love?” He replied, reaching out to run his hand along her thigh.

“I want to show you my arm,” she explained, her voice shaking with her nerves. “No one’s seen it yet.”

“You don’t have to if you're not ready,” Harry said, shuffling closer on the duvet. “I don’t want to push you.”

“You're not,” Rori promised. “I want you to see it. It’s probably silly of me to be nervous again. I feel like I’ve had this exact conversation with you so many times. It’s just a big step, you know?”

“I do know,” he said, “and there’s nothing wrong with being nervous. This is different to you showing me your scars, but just like I said back then; this doesn’t change how I see you.”

“I love you so much Harry. I don’t think you realise how rare you are.”

Harry blushed always shy to receive compliments and he leaned forward to kiss her instead of replying. When they pulled apart from the kiss, Aurora’s hand fell to where the compression stocking covered what was left of her forearm and she slowly peeled the edge back.

Slowly Harry’s hands fell over her fingers. “May I?” he asked softly. She nodded, swallowing against her nerves as his long fingers removed the last of the stocking from her stump, revealing the angry red incision line at the end. “See?” he asked. “Nothing to be nervous about.”

Her eyes shot up to meet his, and she found only love and acceptance looking back at her. “It really doesn’t bother you.” She hadn’t meant it as a question, simply in awe of how lucky she was to have found such an incredible man to spend her life with.

“Of course, it doesn’t,” Harry answered any way. “Nothing could change the way I feel about you. I hope you understand that someday.”

They kissed then and Aurora pushed Harry backwards until he was lying flat across the bed. She moved with him until she was lying atop him, their lips never leaving each other’s.

xXx

Louis stayed for a week after Harry arrived home, both men glad to have some time with one another, but eventually he flew home.  Harry spent a few days with Aurora, enjoying some much needed time together, before he returned to the studio to get back to work. After months away from music he was excited to be back in the studio and the team he had assembled earlier in the year were equally excited to return. Aurora spent more time in the studio than she had before Louis and Niall’s visits, jumping in wholeheartedly with the writing process, which Harry loved. She would occasionally slip out of the studio to either go paint or to assist Peter and her father in further testing for the prosthetic.

xXx

At the end of July, Aurora’s prosthetist came to the tower for her first appointment. Given the fact that Tony was building a custom prosthetic it had occurred to them early on in the process that the fitting process would need to be a collaborative effort that would go smoother with home visits.  Aurora was already in the workshop with Tony and Harry when the prosthetist was accompanied into the room by Happy. He introduced himself as Ben Sherman and shook everyone’s hands.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you all,” he said. “I’ve been looking over your medical files Aurora, and I’ve also read over your designs Mr Stark and I’m very excited to be involved in such a revolutionary project. If it’s alright with you I would like to start with looking at your residual limb. May I?”

Aurora nodded, holding her left arm out towards Ben. She was only wearing a tank top, allowing him to take full stock of the limb. She winced a little when he pressed against the incision line and he apologized. He then had Tony show them the latest prototype and they demonstrated how Aurora was able to operate it, something she had been getting much better at over the past weeks.

Once he was satisfied, he showed Tony some examples of sockets and the pair discussed the best methods and materials for constructing one to suit Auroras needs. Once that was completed, he set about taking a mould of her stump for Tony to use to form the socket.

“OK,” he said when he was finished and had repacked his bag. “I think we’ll be ready to start trying things on in about 2 weeks, so if you think you’ll have the next prototype ready by then we can book in a time for me to come and help you try it on and get used to wearing it.

“Thank you, Ben,” Aurora replied with a gentle smile. “I really appreciate you making a house call.”

“Well this is a special circumstance case,” he said. “I’m happy to help.”

Harry walked him out to the elevator and when he returned Aurora was staring at the prosthesis with excitement. “I can’t believe I’m going to finally get to try it on soon,” she said. “I can’t wait.”

NEXT CHAPTER

OR CONTINUE READING ON AO3

[minotaurman-ayjay]

ACAB - Leaving Wonderland

This will be a post on how I used to support the police, and how I’ve changed.

I will also write on this later. This will be detailing…

How increased coverage on Police Brutality changed my mind

Recollections on institutionalized racism, racism in police culture, and racism among civilian employees that I worked with as well as the police themselves.

How the very police department that I worked for mishandled my report, put me in danger, and how they treated me as a mentally ill civilian.

How police departments become corrupt, and how chain of command becomes compromised.

And lastly, how I was treated by my coworkers and supervisors after filing my report, and how they handled my mental and personal crisis, forcing me to quit and forever changed my outlook towards police.

I used to work for the police department in a civilian division. I was really good at my job, and loved the job that I did because I felt like I was helping people. I never really knew the outcome of those that I helped, and have helped many people out of volatile domestically centered situations. I helped spoke to fellow mentally ill citizens, especially those that were suicidal. I never really knew the outcome of my clients, because we weren’t really supposed to know unless it’s for official reasons. It’s a very thankless job, but it feels good to just be there for someone.

However, that slowly got tainted as 1) department wide corruption reared it’s ugly head and 2) how the division I worked for became toxic.

We had a black police chief for quite some time. Things were handled differently, and as painfully awkward he was on the PR front, he was really good at caring for people. And I feel like he legitimately did. He made a lot of changes in the department, and had different classes and training specifically for dealing with people who are mentally ill. Classes for “LGBT and Racial sensitivity”, and “Emergency De-escalation for Mentally Ill Civilians”  that basically amounted to “Treat everybody like a human being. Yes. Everybody. Not just WASPs. “ and “Don’t just shoot that guy because he’s having a violent psychological breakdown” and was always de-escalation before violence for *everybody*.

And then he was fired, and the reason for it was very vague and flimsy. Something that we were spoonfed and expected to accept. Hindsight tells me that it was most likely was for racial reasons and hiding those reasons behind “He embarrassed us at Washington DC and he used police resources for personal gain”. Like if such crime was committed, where are the receipts for it? Seriously, where is the evidence??? We weren’t allowed to know that much.

I asked way too many questions on this matter, and I’m pretty sure this is what got the higher ups pissed at me just enough that they opportunistically struck on me and force me to quit.

 --- more on that later, I’m trying to keep this as linear as possible ---.

A new police chief was soon appointed and to my (not) surprise, he is a Godfearing white guy who would suck Trump’s orange stump once he is within eyeshot of the guy.

Then the “LGBT and Racial Sensitivity” classes and classes how to handle the mentally ill disappeared for “budget cuts”. I’m certainly hoping that their crisis intervention that is de-escalation based and social worker run continues to be a thing and won’t be done away with because of this new leadership.

Now that the very top is corrupt and obviously not for the People, it enabled racist assholes with a god complex to come out of the goddamn woodwork. He started appointing people with his same views, etc.

Let’s get into Police Culture real quick. Police Culture is known for it’s Good Ol’ Boy mentality. Something that has supposed to have changed. It’s always been dominated by white men, and obviously, the white men within it are going to make sure that it stays that way. Again, hindsight has taught me, that police culture will never change because even though there are people on the inside who want to change it, white centric corruption will always be there to whisk it away.

I had been looking for another job to get out of the Department as my support for the police and for the Department itself began to wain. During this time, I would find an employer who sounded like they would move mountains to hire me... and then suddenly I would hear nothing. 

Then, there was some massive leadership reshuffling in my Division, and these were people who should not have been there at all. Remember when I asked too many questions about why the recent police chief was fired? These people were against that chief and are very pro-this chief. Shocking, right? So of course, me who did not like this chief (but was not outward it) or at very least had the AUDACITY to question something that was so obviously bullshit instead of accepting what I was spoonfed like everybody else.

... this is another point on how police culture works. The nail that stands out the most gets hammered. The loosest screw gets screwed..

---This is how I get screwed---

 then something happened to me that required me needing the police to help me.

TL;DR AND CW: PET DEATH, ANIMAL CRUELTY

I found my dog stabbed to death, most likely by my exroommates who still had a key... It happened while I was getting knew locks for my house. I called the police, and they took a report. But they did not collect any evidence that was obviously tied to what happened. The reporting officer pushed it through as an Information Only report because HE had concluded that my dog was mauled. He wasn’t even a detective. He was a REPORTING OFFICER who came to a conclusion and used that conclusion to dictate how my report went through --- 

*This was how we USED to (or so I thought) treat people who were mentally ill and constantly, frequently, calling with bizarre cases* It was active discrimination against the mentally ill that puts them in danger. I was “mentally apped” a long time ago, (where they take you to a hospital against your will. This is on your personal record forever and can fuck with getting driver’s license, and other things) and concluding something just because it doesn’t add up for “information only” was an old practice that I thought had been done away with.

but did anybody care about this? No, of course not. We were on different management. Months pass despite me blowing up the phones of Sergeants and the Detective that was assigned to my case.

I was talking to peer support to help me go through this, I told them what was going on with my life and what I was doing. They told me not to call these Sergeants and Detectives again and to wait for them to contact me.

I was then put under investigation for “Using police resources for personal gain”, and my supervisor had told me that I was harassing detectives and sergeants. Harassing them to do their job and pick up evidence? Sure.

Since I was under investigation, I was given an alternative assignment. I was put on a different shift--- Something that should have never happened because the shift that I was working was for medical reasons. I was on a rough antipsychotic medical schedule to keep my bipolar disorder and psychosis in check. My shift changed, which caused my medication to not work like it used to. 

I was also put in a room with a shitty chair that fucked with my osteoarthritis in my hip... another ADA accommodation that had been violated. They refused to give me a new chair and doctors notes were mysteriously never received. My ADA accommodations had suddenly disappeared, because we had changed to a 3rd party to handle ADA accommodations. We were told that resubmitting accommodations was not necessary as they are still active for the year--- That was a lie.

I eventually spiraled and had to go back to the mental hospital. I was under investigation for 3 months. I was stressed out of my mind and my medication was not working.

My therapist at the mental hospital had many one-on-ones with me, because she was concerned. She said that what I was going through was workplace abuse. This piled on top of the grief of losing my PTSD companion dog in a terrible, vicious, violent, senseless way, was not good for my already fragile mental health.

Before I went to the mental hospital, I had found out that Peer Support had told the administration what I was doing, and what I was going through. This was what triggered the investigation. 

TW.... SUI IDEATION AND PLAN....

Because of this, I was probably a day or so away from running away to the creek and overdosing in a place where my girlfriend couldn’t find me. My life had been turned upside down, and nobody was helping me. My workplace didn’t care. Their treatment of me became abusive when I needed them the most.

I quit after getting out of the mental hospital. Ever since then, I’ve had an issue with becoming employed elsewhere.

There are no good cops. Good cops do not last long. If a good cop ends up becoming police chief, he ends up being overthrown by the white male majority, because of white-centric police culture. This caused a lot of changes that fucked a lot of civilians and civilian employees over. There was one police involved slaying shortly after these changes were made, and it’s the same ol’ song and dance that’s going on across america.

I will never support the police again. Not only because of my personal experience, but because I understand and have witnessed the culture, and how institutionally racist it is. 

I am sorry that I ever supported the police. I am sorry that I worked for an entity that actively suppresses minorities and actively suppresses Freedom of Speech for the interest of corporations. I realize that I couldn’t be both a Black Lives Matter supporter and a police supporter. I chose Black Lives Matter as I saw the police brutality that I now realize that has always been there. I chose black lives matter as I watched a white police chief do away everything that was progressive. I chose Black Lives Matter as I increasingly worry about my friends of color as hate continues to spread and increase.

I was in the division that I chose because I felt that I was helping people. I thought working with the police was what was going to enable me to help people. That became apparent that wasn’t true the moment we switched police chiefs. We’ve become just like any other police department in the country.

I’m sorry.

[advernia]

the world in her heart, her heart in his hands

assorted sidenotes for the fic i made in response to an anon-sent aesthetic prompt! oooh boy, i sure took long on this one lmao...... _(:3 」∠)_

prompt #7: steady notes coming from a guitar nearby, fireflies dancing around the clearing, two sleeping bags close together, and a bright full moon briefly covered by a cloud.

so the core idea i had when i saw that prompt got requested was based on jonah’s say i do! route: he says that one day, he wanted to go to the land of reason + see the place alice was born and raised. tbh idk how the prompt even led me to that, but the imagery vibes i got from the prompt hinted of something like freedom. or something like lovers secretly meeting in the woods, which i sort of went by.

OKAY SO I SWEAR I FINISHED WRITING THE PROMPT (day zero!!!) EARLY (by my standards) LMAO.............. like, maybe a week after i got the ask or so? but then when i went about proofreading it i felt that it was... lacking??? i can’t explain it myself, but i didn’t wanna post it yet until i got that feeling cleared out - i tried revising + adding, but it didn’t help so i just started thinking about expanding the fic instead...

thinking about the scenes really took longer than i thought?!?!?! i wanted this request up early but i was stumped on what kind of scenes i wanted to see + how their lengths were gonna be.... plus i was thinking if i should go solely on narration + description........ or maybe more of dialogue...... then i jumped to holy shit what’s my timeline gonna be what cultural whatnot am i gonna emphasize and i think i fussed over those aspects rather than picturing the actual scenes LMAOOO.......................

great disclaimer: i have NEVER stepped into the uk..... or england + london for that matter ahahaha GET REKT tho i want to someday huehuehue....... i heavily relied my research on maps + history websites + train timetables to help me get through the touring parts so do forgive me if i messed up somewhere + butchered history haha..... i was thinking to make things vague, but since i’m always in for emphasizing the differences between cradle + land of reason, i decided to get a little technical with it......

i have to admit that i wrote most of the fic during breaks in work hELLA RAD........... i’m doing my job properly, i swear........ it’s just that when i already have a stable idea of what i want to happen, the scene becomes clearer in my mind. i wanted so! badly! to add scenes of jonah pronouncing words and looking at various things funny!!! jonah and his attempts to communicate with londoners!!! fussy jonah poking around a boutique, him being fascinated + studying displays of gun shops, or him accidentally offending the royal guard + constables LMAOOOOO but i couldn’t seem to write anything satisfactory involving those ideas........... ಥ_ಥ

back to the issue of timeline, i was picturing the london in this fic to be around the 1860s or smth.... but then i remembered that in edgar’s dramatic end letter, he mentions his fascination with electricity aka lightbulbs......... which were, like...... discovered early 1800s but only became common in 1882 ahahaha....... when i realized this i was already writing day 18 oOOPS so i just decided to go on and wing it I’M SORRY _(:3 」∠)_

on timeframe, i know that it’s very highly unlikely that jonah would take a vacation for two months. i bet the mere concept of a one-month vacation is enough to give him a heart attack LMAOOOO but let’s just say that red army told him to take his time in the land of reason, especially when they learn that jonah plans to formally meet alice’s parents. when he hears about this, lancelot tosses in the suggestion of proposing to alice while they’re in the land of reason, so that jonah can tell her parents about that too. jonah thinks it’s a fantastic idea..... so he decides to accept hot damn, a two month vacation!

whole route & lengths of stay (points streaked with red are mentioned within the fic minus nottingham whoops sorry):

london [16 days bc IT’S A BIG CITY LMAO (day 30 - 14). rides a morning train going to bristol on the 14th, arrives there midday.]

bristol [5 days (day 14 - 9). leaves bristol on the morning of the 9th to walk all the way to glastonbury, arrives there come late afternoon / evening.]

glastonbury [4 days (day 9 - 5). leaves midday of the 5th to walk their way to alice’s village, arrives there around sunset.]

alice’s village / ‘actual wonderland’ lmao [5 days (day 5 - 0). located somewhere in between bridgwater, taunton, and glastonbury. month 1 of vacation has ended.]

day log commentary!

thirty. arrival in the land of reason through falling - routes where alice does go back don’t feature her falling down london’s sky, so maybe she’s just... spit out from the hole????? idk haha so i altered it anyway!!!!! the landing scene was initially like this: jonah lands first, he catches alice in his arms, they banter a bit....... and then they suddenly remember the suitcase only for said object to fall right on jonah’s head LMAOOO....... it’s a cradle magical object that looks like a regular suitcase but will always be as light as a feather despite it’s contents + it has GREAT CAPACITY so jonah is actually okay!!!!!! i decided to scrap that scene concept though haha!

twenty-nine. does the hole to the land of reason only open around midnight or smth???? i’m sure it doesn’t, but i went with jonah + alice leaving cradle minutes before twelve o’clock, so when they arrive in london jonah gets to see the big ben signal midnight. is that planned on alice’s part? maybe. on another note, i’m assuming that a high-ranking officer + noble like jonah is definitely used to traveling to other countries so he’s definitely not one for homesickness, but i like the thought of him always feeling all sorts of uncomfortable on his first nights away from home - he doesn’t make a big deal about it bc he gets better three days in or so. idk, it just seems fitting for someone very particular like him.

twenty-seven. if luka’s hair is fucking dyed, my god (no wonder i found those light ends of his hair sorta funny), then here’s jonah excuse to adapt another hair color with the help of magic crystals LMAO - i always stick with a reality ensues standpoint, so his ikeman looks aside, i’m sure londoners would find jonah’s hair color (heck, maybe even his eye color) very unique. alice can’t deal with all that sudden attention lol but she somewhat proud that the man who has effortlessly captured the attention of the people of her world too is the man she proudly calls her lover ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

twenty-three. now that i think of it, what exactly does cradle mean when they say the land of reason? are they simply referring to the city of london, or earth as a whole??? most likely the latter, but i’m pretty sure no one except blanc (and possibly ray bc that globe in his room lol) know exactly how large the land of reason is. anyway, not gonna lie, i wanted jonah + alice talking about novels by maybe the likes of charles dickens, thomas hardy, george eliot or h.g. wells. heck, maybe jane austen and charlotte bronte too!!!! but i had to scrap that bc gaps in understanding cultural & historical references + use of language, figurative and non-figurative.... it’s a shame about the last two though - i’m sure jonah can somehow probably relate to the society depicted in their books since the red territory sounds like your typical breeding place of victorian era nobles lmao!!!!

eighteen. sometimes when people learn / gain a deeper understanding about new things, they have the urge to brag about said knowledge to others - of course jonah wants to show alice what he knows about her world so far haha! calling a train a mechanical beast tho lmao..... he refers to it that way, but i think it’s his target of fascination in london!!! noise and possibly environmental issues aside, it’s very convenient + efficient and can cater to all, but what he finds most impressive that it’s a man-made locomotive!!! that’s something worth incredible praise!!! ( ᐛ )و

fourteen. actual train ride!!! hmmm.... i think jonah only panics maybe a good thirty minutes in when the train starts moving??? alice tries to calm him down by pointing at the passing scenery out the window + idle chatter until jonah finally relaxes himself.... but then he starts to panic slightly again when alice suggests that they look around the train and he’s like: is that even remotely safe??? what about our baggages, can we leave them unattended??? hey, i saw you snicker - how dare you laugh at me!!!

nine. according to google, an estimate of a walk starting from bristol going to glastonbury is 8h 25min. that’s for the present time though - would’ve it been shorter or longer in the past??? idk, but definitely one’s pace during the walk affects the total time, lol. since railroads only started out around 1830s + i made alice a village girl, walking really is her way to go. pedestrianism was still a thing around the 19th century!!! her stamina in other routes tho lol (ﾟ⊿ﾟ)

six. here’s my self-indulgent thing of wanting to add a dance scene, pt. 1 LMAOOOO -   the steps in the scene aren’t really from a certain folk dance in england, much less from glastonbury itself... i did look up on england folk dances, but i couldn’t pick one that i wanted to incorporate into the scene so i went with describing some random steps on the top of my head _(:3 」∠)_ ..... maybe someday, i’ll write a proper one..... on another note though, i suppose jonah can adapt quickly to folk dances, but he may come off a bit stiff at first in line / column dances where there’s the switch of partners??? i mean, there are formal 19th century dances that have that same concept, but.... the finesse + personal boundaries are all there lmao -  he’s not against the casual intimacy + show of obvious joy in folk + common dances though, it’s just more of that he’s not used to the informality of it all, i think.

five. plot twist: alice does lead jonah to her home, the cottage on a hill like she always described, but what he doesn’t expect is when she solemnly says that she’d introduce him to her parents she leads him to the back of the hill and in the foot of the hill he finds himself staring at her parents’ gravestones as she’s smiling sadly with a bouquet of flowers in her hand OH WAIT WRONG GENRE WASN’T THIS SUPPOSED TO BE FLUFF LMAO - kidding aside, i do hope cybird catches onto the idea of a story event of chosen suitor going to the land of reason with alice to meet her parents or smth!!! they did do a travel event in the jp ver, after all.... but i’m not keeping my hopes up haha....... _(:3 」∠)_

zero. self-indulgent thing of wanting to add a dance scene, pt. 2 - tho it’s in the latter part along with the prompt lmao!!! hmmm, i’m pretty satisfied with how this one turned out tho i had a little problem arranging the first half - the rest i relatively left untouched even after i added the rest of the days to the fic. hopefully, does well as a nice end to the fic itself..... tbh, the thought of summer dress alice + casual shirt & pants jonah both barefoot & running around like children in moonlit woods (don’t do this in real life folks) made me smile a lot. give me more soft-and-not-so-tooth-rotting-fluff scenes, cybird

also!!! since the prompt involved a guitar, i had a certain track on repeat lmao - you can listen to it here, and it’s the second to the last track titled umibe ni yurete (swaying in the beach)! (ノ^∇^)

and that’s all that i’ve got today!!! thank you very much for reading + hope you’re staying safe & well wherever you are!!!!（｡≧◇≦）ﾉ

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #226

“i couldn't take my eyes off her, but that's not what i took off that night.”

So, how are you doing today? I'm mostly fine, I guess. I'm sooooo sleep-deprived from these damn night terrors, so it has me pretty moody. Then I'm bummed as all fuckhell that Sara and I can't be together on our anniversary. What is the last song that you had on repeat? I think it waaaas... "Idiosyncrasy" (it took me five million attempts to spell that right) by Korn. Are you a hedonist/masochist/in between? Neither. The best musical performance you’ve been to? I've only ever seen Alice Cooper, but it was WICKED. He did his signature decapitation illusion (how the fuck does that even work??), and the last song (it was a fucking amazing cover of "Another Brick In The Wall") had INCREDIBLE theatrics. I loved it. Who is your favorite drummer? *shrugs* Your favorite guitarist? Idk, really. Maybe Zakk Wylde. A vocalist with the best voice? Freddie Mercury's voice is so versatile and chill-inducing, Amy Lee is an obvious answer, Patrick Stump's voice is just so goddamn sexy, as is Brendon Urie's, as well as wide in vocal range. Do you have a band yourself? Maaaan, that'd be dope. But no. Do you write poetry or song lyrics? I used to write poems aaaaaall the time (y'know, the "I'm 14 and this is deep" kind), and I've actually really wanted to for a while now, but idk about what. Plus my word-weaving capability has drastically declined, so all I'd do is get mad. Your best memories: Meeting Sara, SARA'S FUCKING FACE WHEN SHE SAW ME IN HER BEDROOM ON HER LAST BIRTHDAY OH MY FUCKING GOD, a novel of things with Jason, seeing meerkats at the zoo for the first time, THE DAY GOD NOTICED ME THROUGH A GIF I WORKED WAY TOO HARD ON (I couldn't sleep for three days, and I wish I was kidding), uhhhh. A lot. Your worst memories: The night of the breakup, absolutely and entirely. Nothing compares. It was a slow, paralyzing trauma (don't get pissy about me using that word "as an exaggeration," it was diagnosed as such years ago) that entirely put me into an actual state of shock. I wish that night on absolutely nobody. No one. Funniest thing you've ever seen an animal do? Maaaaan, I could tell you a lot. Probably inarguably the funniest was Ginger (ex's beagle) WITHOUT FAIL losing her shit with jealousy or SOMETHING whenever she noticed Jason and I were doing anything that involved affection without her. That dog would LOSE IT with barking, tail wagging, and climbing all over him, and it was never not funny to see this fatass little dog turn into a living cockblock lmfao. OH YEAH then our late boxer Cali could be baited into howling if you did it sometimes. It was so, so cute. She'd always look so confused but do it anyway. I'm sure there're others; I've grown up with pets my whole life, but those are the only two that come to me now. What is on your mind? I wanna see Sara. Could you ever cheat on your significant other? I physically couldn't stand myself if I ever did. No. Ever been so disgraced that you had homicidal thoughts? Wow no. If so, whom did you wish to assassin? I mean I've talked about Ashley (not my sister) before, but they weren't seriously "homicidal." I wasn't going to actually do anything. If you wish to be famous, what would you want to be famous for? I don't wish it, but let's say I was. Some form of artist. ... Wait, I do want that. Errrmmm OH! A serious wildlife conservator. Do you think humanity is going downhill? Duh. What was the last thing you threw at someone? I have no clue. Do you ever want to be prom queen/king? I didn't care. Have you ever ran from the police? I'd prefer to stay out of jail. Are you afraid of clowns? No. Have you ever written on someone’s face in your yearbook? Ha ha yeeeaaah... When was the last time you made dinner? me?????? cook????????????? huh?????????????? Do you have any special plans coming up? I'm shooting my sister's gender reveal Sunday. :') Ash and her husband don't know the gender, so I am so fucking excited to see their reactions. Who do you want to be buried next to? Please don't bury me and just take up space. Cremate me and scatter the ashes somewhere, or do SOMETHING meaningful and creative. What is your favorite fish? Like... to eat? I haven't tried very much, but I liked striper forever and ever ago. If you mean visually, probably betta fish. Have you ever won a gold medal? Probably with kid stuff. Do you have any trophies? Also as a kid for A honor roll, as well as dance and sports overall. Do you work out? Oops no. When you introduce yourself, do you give hand shakes? It depends on who I'm talking to. Is there a limit to how many best friends you have? No? Do you have any hickeys on you? Bitch a girl can wish. Do you have the strength to say goodbye forever? Been there, finally done that. Will you talk to the person you like tonight? I talk to her every day throughout the day. Who did you last share a bed with? Sara. Who do you go to when you need to talk to someone? Sara or Mom. Have you ever been taken to the emergency room in an ambulance? No. What are you listening to right now? I'm not actually listening to anything, but "Gypsy" by Fleetwood Mac is BURIED into my head rn. What do you like better: hot chocolate or hot apple cider? I've never tried to latter actually, but I'd probably still prefer hot chocolate, anyway. Do you make wishes at 11:11? No; I don't believe in that stuff. I have a friend who posts JUST "11:11 <3" or something like that every night on FB, and while it shouldn't, it annoys the fuck out of me. No one cares. Ever been on a golf cart? Yeah. Do you get blizzards where you live? No, never to the point where "blizzard" fits. What’s a biblical truth that you struggle with? lmao When was the last time you did something rebellious? *shrugs* Do you rebel against God a lot? I can genuinely say I don't give a fuck if I do or don't. Do you consider yourself creative? Very. What’s an old hobby that you want to pick back up? Sigh, reading. Do you ever read books to a pet? No. That seems without real purpose... and this is coming from me, an animal worshiper, just about. Like, you know they genuinely have no clue what you're saying or doing, and I highly doubt they're gonna stay still and look at the pictures. Do you have any pets? Two dogs, a cat, a rat, and a snake. What was the theme of your childhood bedroom? It didn't have a set theme. Partially because I grew up with the same room as my little sister, and we had very different interests. What color was your nursery as a baby? I have zero clue. Did I even have a proper nursery??? What was the last surgery you had? Getting a cyst above my asscrack removed lmaoooo. What’s something you prefer to keep private? Sexual history. I am very, very shy talking about that kind of stuff. Who is someone you look up to? *sobs "fischfuck" at the top of my lungs* As a child, did you have people you admired? STEVE IRWIN WAS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! MY EMOTIONAL DAD!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Are you good at prioritizing? Eek... I'm unsure, to be honest. Which holiday is your favorite to decorate for? fuckin' Halloween hoe. Which holiday or season has the best decorations in stores? Soooo Halloween decor=room decor for me tbh lol. Who’s the prettiest YouTuber you watch? She doesn't have her own active YT channel anymore, but Suzy Hanson (GameGrumps' Arin's wife) is a fucking goddess. Oh, and while I've never watched her channel, I've seen Hannah Hart on GMM quite a few times, and she's actually one of my first signals that I wasn't straight because I definitely felt attracted to how naturally beautiful she is. What’s the most shocking thing that’s occurred in your life lately? Finding out my grandma has terminal cancer. How’s the weather been at your part of the world in the past week? It's been fucking hot. Thursday was the hottest October day in NC history, peaking at 100. Disgoostiiiiiing. Have you given something up recently? (for ex., candy, red meat etc.) Uhhhh well, this is semi-recently, I guess: I entirely stopped going to Chick-fil-a in protest of higher-ranking business employees or whatever supporting/making donations to anti-LGBT cults, especially conversion "therapy." What’s the worst thing about autumn? "How fleeting it is. I never feel like I get properly immersed in the experience. I blink and the leaves are gone and Thanksgiving is here and Christmas is right around the corner." <<< Perfect description. What is something you enjoy doing, even if you’re not very good at it? Drawing portraits, maybe. Do you work hard for your money? I don't have a job, never have had a stable one. However, on the occasion I'm hired to take pictures, I. Try. Really. Hard. What’s a song that most people interpret entirely wrong? "Mama I'm Coming Home" by Ozzy Osbourne was first to come to mind; reasonably, people tend to think the song is about his mother, but it's rather about his wife. Calling your wife that is apparently some English petname. When’s the last time you had cake? Wow, idk, actually. I think my niece mighta had some for her birthday in June? I know my nephew had cupcakes. Yeah, I think it was her b-day. Have you ever made your own soda from scratch? I have not. How about your own jam? No. Or pickled something? No. Did you grow anything in your garden this year? No, we don't have one. Or did someone give you something they grew in theirs? No. What’s the most romantic gift anyone’s given to you? Uhhhhhhhhhh idk. Do you like woolly socks? If so, do you ever make your own? NO, especially when you put sneakers over them or something. They feel so constricted. Do you have a laptop or desktop computer? A laptop that needs to be replaced, gah. Or fixed. I have a pure black crack and blob stretching across the left side of my screen that is super distracting and obscuring, and the right side of the top half is cracked along the side; I have duct tape to help keep it closed. Otherwise it's a fine laptop, though. Oh wait, and the apostrophe key is missing, so I have to hit the plastic pressure thingy that's easy to miss. Do you watch America’s Got Talent? No. If so, who has been your favorite contestant on AGT? My favorite ever was Landau Eugene Murphy Jr. Still have some of his covers on my iPod. Prince Poppycock is also my gay uncle that I would die for. What chore are you behind on? I need to dust my room good lort. Have you ever broken your phone screen? No, actually. Have you ever broke your computer screen? Well, refer to earlier question. I don't know if it's technically "broke," just damaged (it's not an actual scratch, btw; it's beyond the exterior screen). I need to take it somewhere to fix it ahhhhh. What department store do you shop at the most? Wal-Mart. Do you normally use the self-checkout or the regular checkout? Depends on how much we have. If it's just a handful or so, we just go do it ourselves. Which friend will be in your heart no matter what happens between you two? Sara, Megan. What is your most severe allergy? Pollen. Have you ever been kicked out of a store? No. OH SHIT NO WAIT, I THINK a friend and I may have wandered into Spencer's once when we were "too young." Or maybe we just got ID'd. Idk, idr. What was the stupidest mistake of your life? Turning a person into my sole source of "real" happiness, giving my entire soul to a flawed human being, being naive about love, all that jazz. Have you ever unfriended a sibling on social media? Well, she unfriended me. We're friends again now tho I think I pissed her off again. Oops. Do you watch Niki and Gabi on YouTube? If yes, which twin is your favorite: Niki or Gabi? I've heard of 'em, but don't know anything about/watch them. What was your favorite book you had to read for school? The Outsiders. The Handmaid's Tale is now right behind it. What do you want for your birthday this year? My '19 birthday has already passed, but if you mean like, my next one, idk. Maybe a new phone considering mine is GODawful with so many problems. Alllllthough I'm entirely aware I'll be putting a tattoo first, so... it depends on what I have, ha ha. Do you like rock music? Yep. What is the most beautiful landscape you have ever seen? MOUNTAINS!!!!!!!!!! What do you usually take for headaches? Advil/Ibuprofen. Have you ever switched doctors because of mistreatment? Or moreso carelessness and immeasurable ignorance masked by over-confidence. Do you film or record your doctor’s appointments? ??????????????????????????????? Can you even do that?????????????????? Which accomplishment are you most proud of yourself for? So, this kinda depends. I'm most likely to say "recovery," but I honestly give almost all credit to my psychiatrist and therapists. So I don't usually see *me* as playing a big role in it. Idk. So other days I'll say way more confidently graduating in the top 10% of the graduating class as a senior. Do you feel like you’ve accomplished anything yet with your life? Well yeah. What is your favorite medication that you take, and why? The combination I take of Vraylar + Lamictal due to how they interact and being massively responsible for me being stable. What is your favorite vitamin, and why? Do people???????????? have fave vitamins????????????????? List 5 people you know who have never been mean to you. Uh. I think Connie is it out of the people I know well/have known for a long time, lol. Would you rather do a craft project or a science experiment? s c i e n c e  b i t c h Do you say garbage, trash, rubbish, or something else? "Trash," usually. Which Bratz doll was your favorite? I didn't have a favorite. Which Barbie doll was your favorite? ^ Which American Girl doll was your favorite? I don't remember. Do you decorate Mason jars? No, but I find them veeeeeery pretty when decorated well. What color band and stone does your class ring have? I didn't get one. Can you see the mountains from where you live? No, I wish... What is your favorite Lisa Frank character? angel!!!!!!!!!!!! KITTY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Do you believe in the power of prayer? Not in the slightest. What color eyes does the person you like/love have? Are they pretty? A beautiful brown. Obviously if I call them beautiful. What was the first television show you were obsessed with? Pokemon cries. I never really like... showed just how much though. Looking back on when I was a kid, I took embarrassment poorly even then. Other girls thought I was weird for bringing a Psyduck plushy with me to school everyday, everyone in pre-k looked at me like "huh" when I brought my little Snorlax plush in for show-and-tell, I came to a point of only watching it when my sister was asleep, I was too scared to ask for the games, and- jfc okay I'm actually realizing I need to go back to therapy to talk about how deep my AvPD truly is rooted oops lmao. Do you eat chili when you get a hot dog, or do you like it plain? Chili is disgusting. Have you ever disowned anyone in your family? For what reasons? No. Is there anyone out there who has hurt you so much, you wish they’d die? No. Has anyone ever called you a sociopath before? No. How many times have you been drunk in your life? None got to the point of me feeling *actually* drunk. I've only ever been tipsy. When was the last time you acted really immature? *shrugs* Can you rely on one or more people to take up for you? Yeah, a few. When is the last time you sat around a campfire? I don't have a clue. Is there an important event coming up at your school? I think? It's some event all freshmen have to attend to all damn day and I'm not looking forward to it. It's for a good cause, but. It's gonna be a drag and I've had two incidents this school year of once collapsing and just last week almost fainting and vomiting just from the heat. Do you have a back-up career choice? What is it? Something with writing, I guess. Well, I ideally want to be a professional photographer but also a zoologist, but if photography goes absurdly well (this is incredibly unlikely, I know, but it's doable), I may not aim for a zoologist career, but get the necessary degree for it as back-up. I want an unquestionably stable back-up choice. My minor is Journalism, so like I mentioned up top, yeah, if things really go shitty, something in writing is an option. Would you ever get caught with a fake ID? No. Do you think religion justifies treating people unequally? I don't see the supposed "rationality" in this at all. No. Are men more attractive with longer or shorter hair? I guess it depends on the person, but I think I'm generally more attracted to men with longer hair. What color was the ink of the last pen you used? Black. Is there a name that you hear and cringe? I can't really say "cringe," but without fail, it's obvious who and what I think of the moment I hear the name "Jason," and it always causes this dull pain in my chest. What color are your dad’s eyes? They're dark brown. When you were a kid, was there a boy/girl that you said you were going to marry? No. Is your favourite TV show very popular? That '70s Show is, and Fullmetal Alchemist is among anime fans, at least. I don't think too many people know about Meerkat Manor, but I know it was and possibly still is Animal Planet's highest-grossing series, so it sure was big for viewers of that channel. What are you absolutely determined to do? Become at least a semi-successful photographer, make a great life with Sara, support my mom one day like she always has me, mostly overcome anxiety, photograph and touch a habituated meerkat of the KMP... a handful of things. Where would you rather be from? Somewhere in the U.S. that's not a homophobic, racist, gun-fucking, Bible-thumping cesspit of closed-minded shits. I love NC. How often do you play sports? Never. What website do you visit most often? YouTube. What do you wish you knew more about? Politics. What are some things you’ve had to unlearn? I stopped this as a young teenager, but I know I was one of those kids who used "retarded" as a substitute for "stupid." I absolutely hate that shit. I also had to unlearn uhhhh... man, I know there's a lot, I'm just blanking right now. What TV channel doesn’t exist but really should? *shrug* Where is the most interesting place you’ve been? Interesting to me personally, Chicago. Cities that massive are foreign to me. What fad or trend do you hope comes back? Scene fashion was art, don't @ me. What’s the best way to start the day? SLEEPY CUDDLES W/ YOUR S/O. What kind of art do you enjoy most? Man, idk. I love art so much. What have you only recently formed an opinion about? That's a good question. What is the most heartwarming thing you’ve ever seen? Literally today/yesterday when I watched the secret stream Mark did of gathering viewers to anonymously destroy random but small Twitch streamers' charity goals & he was too motivated and inspiring & everyone was so fucking confused but thankful and it was literally the most inarguably Chaotic Good thing I have ever borne witness to. For three hours I couldn't stop fucking smiling. What’s something you like to do the old-fashioned way? Hell if I know. Who has impressed you most with what they’ve accomplished? lol guess How do you relax after a hard day of work? I don't work. What TV show or movie do you refuse to watch? TV show? 13 Reasons Why is a hell no. The Human Centipede I wouldn't watch over my dead fucking body. Where would you spend all your time if you could? All my time? Idk. What’s the best way a person can spend their time? Improving the world. What’s the most interesting piece of art you’ve seen? I couldn't even try to answer that question. What’s worth spending more on to get the best? I dunno, probably a lot. Maybe food? Ensure it's safe, at least. What is the luckiest thing that has happened to you? Not flipping over in the wreck we got in when I was a kid, probably. All factors of it considered, we were told flipping would have been far more likely than my mom managing to keep us on four wheels. What are some small things that make your day better? Multiple things. Sara feeling positive, I'm fucking awful so having a yummy soda gives me a measly drop of Serotonin, I love seeing Venus come out of her rock to wander around, finding a new song to become utterly addicted to is great, cool weather outside... things like that. I'm sure there's more. What one thing do you really want but can’t afford? REALLY want? A trip to South Africa. What are you interested in that most people haven’t heard of? Uhhh idk. Otep, I suppose. As a band, anyway. She's actually the QUEEN of bigoted bitches. Why did you decide to do the work you are doing now? N/A What’s something you’ve been meaning to try but just haven’t gotten around to? Oh, idk. If all jobs had the same pay and hours, what job would you like to have? Still a photographer. Have you ever saved someone’s life? No. What’s the hardest lesson you’ve learned? People can tell you they'll always be there and still leave in the blink of an eye. What’s something you are self-conscious about? Unconventional interests/hobbies and my body. Have you ever given to any charities? Yes. What was the best compliment you’ve received? Idk. What’s the most immature thing that you do? Not gonna lie, I can act bratty if I don't get something I SERIOUSLY want. Which of your scars has the best story behind it? None, really. What have you created that you are most proud of? A novel of very developed and deep RP characters over the years. What do you regret not doing or starting when you were younger? Learning German. As you get older, what are you becoming more and more afraid of? Mom dying. Being independent. In what situation or place would you feel the most out of place in? Most out of place? Would, like not one I've actually experienced? Uhhh idk. An orgy lmao.

[littlemulattokitten]

I’m ill wifey so I’d like to request murder buddies digging graves with baes please 🙃😏

Shameless is what you are

Tom never planned on having an accomplice. It added a variable to his secret pastime that could get him caught, but he also hadn’t expected to meet another serial killer in his lifetime, especially not because they happened to go after the same target on the same night.

She’d been in the news. She’d distracted the media from him and he laid low, just to see what they’d make of her.

They still thought she was a man, of course. He wanted to know how she wasn’t leaving accidental clues behind. He wanted to know what the few clues, calling cards really, that she did leave behind meant.

The game and the chase was why he worked in forensics by day and hunted down the people who got in his way by night.

Not every night, of course. He had a life. Sort of.

Work was his life. He’d built his reputation. He was one of the best in the field and his position within the HPD gave him just enough authority over the forensics department to keep his extracurricular activities from being traced back to him. He just couldn’t understand how his new…neighbor, for lack of a better term, was so painstakingly tidy with the crime scenes she left behind.

Well, tidy wasn’t exactly the word.

Her style was so methodical that it left a heaviness in the spaces she’d left her victims in. Like there was silent poetry hanging in the air, waiting for someone smart enough to pick up on the words that weren’t being said. It was art. It was ever changing. Her modus operandi wasn’t as fixed as his. She adapted to suit her targets. It was artistic and clever and maddening.

If he wasn’t killing, he was catching fools unworthy of the fear left in their wake. Husbands who flew off the handle, murdered their entire families, and tried to hide the bodies. Nurses and Doctors trying to be angels of death. Serial drunk drivers who always managed to get someone killed, while somehow getting off the hook in court as well. The pitiful copycat killers and those arrogant enough to try and start their serial killing careers in his territory.

The problem with his neighbor is that she came out of nowhere.

In her first five months, the committed six murders. Each different than the last. Every drop of blood splatter was intentional. Every bit of dirt under fingernails of the dead behind on purpose. No fingerprints. No footprints. No partials. No hairs. Nothing left behind.

The only clue, the only hint he’d found that gave him any indication of what and who she was before their run in at the estate of one Gilderoy Lockhart that fated autumn evening, wasn’t really a clue at all. It was just a piece of circumstantial evidence. Something no one at the department gave a second thought.

She’d struggled when maneuvering one of her victims. Marcus Flint. He’d been a football player, but a larger one. Defense and goalie. And his exercise regimen had been impressive, to say the least. But his autopsy had revealed both pre- and post-mortem bruising along his back and arms that lined up with him being dragged onto the table he’d been found on top of. In pieces. The bruises on his arms had stumped the entire forensics team. They were massive, rounded, and in places hands would’ve been if he’d been dragged, but any hope of getting a shape or size of said hands was eliminated. They hadn’t been able to figure out how the trauma had been delivered either. Something dense, yes, and easy to bring down on someone’s biceps with enough force to paint their arms dark purple and maroon.

He’d been the only one to wonder if there was more to those bruises than just covering up traces of the killer. Tom had wondered why the bruising was so severe. If he had done the same thing, he’d have only made his handprint impossible to see. But these bruises took up most of Flint’s biceps. There was no telling how big or small the hands that had dragged him onto the table were.

It made his brain itch. Why would a male be particularly worried about a general hand size being discernible? He wouldn’t. But who would?

Someone trying to hide their sex, he’d thought.

He’d been right, too, and damn proud of himself for it. But the station had dismissed his theory. They didn’t think a woman capable of such clinically precise murders. And to be fair, neither had he until Marcus Flint ended up on her radar.

During the sixth month of their mystery killer’s case, his world was shifted once again. Not only was his hunting playground invaded by another, equally clever artist, but there was a new addition to the station as well. Captain Dumbledore had sought help outside of their jurisdiction. That help would become the bane of Tom’s existence.

For a while, at least.

Serial Psychology and Forensics Specialist (and Detective) Hermione Granger was brought to his attention a week before she stepped foot in his station. Lieutenant McGonagall had called everyone together, even pulling Tom and his forensics lackeys out of their lab and research spaces to alert them of their new “likely temporary” member of the team.

“Detective Granger was held in high regard while she worked for Scotland Yard down in London,” McGonagall told them, sending severe looks around the room. “We are very fortunate to have the opportunity to work with this incredible young woman, who climbed the ranks faster than any investigator before her, and earned herself the ability to do…frankly, whatever the hell she pleases wherever the hell she goes.”

Tom snorted at that, casting a glance towards Abraxas, who shot him a slightly wide-eyed look in return.

“Five quid says she’s an uppity toad of a woman,” he whispered.

Tom shrugged, accepting the bet. What was five quid anyway? And if she wasn’t hard on the eyes, it’d be a pleasant surprise. Competence rarely came in pretty packages, in Tom’s experience.

He refocused on McGonagall as she continued speaking. “Detective Granger is technically on an…unofficial leave of absence from Scotland Yard - or at least that’s what Albus wants me to tell you.”

A few chuckled went through the room, and Minerva gave them all a bland smile before turning serious again. “The truth is that the last three cases she solved nearly cost Detective Granger her life, which was still in danger is she’d stayed in London. My hope is that she finds a new home here in Hogsmeade. We could certainly use someone of her caliber.”

When McGonagall’s eyes turned sharply to Tom, he raised his eyebrows, awaiting whatever she had to say.

“I certainly hope having two savants in forensics won’t cause any problems…” she said slowly. Tom smirked. “Detective Granger will not work under our established chain of command. She will report to me and me alone.” A brow quirked as she continued to stare at Tom. “So play nice.”

“She fit?” Investigator Black asked from the other side of the room. Potter smothered a chuckle as Minerva turned to glare at them both.

“She’s out of your league…” Minerva said, her tone dripping with false sweetness. Black rolled his eyes as a series of Ooohs and chuckles at his expense swept through the room.

“Detective Granger solved three-decade-old cold cases in her first year with Scotland Yard alone, but if that doesn’t impress you, by all means, Google her. Her track record is quite impressive,” Minerva continued. “She joins us Monday morning. Embarrass me and you’ll be reviewing security footage tapes and doing paperwork with the interns for a month.”

With her final threat delivered, the meeting disbanded, and Tom happily went back to the research tables in the lab after making sure the research groups outside the lab didn’t need him. There was a whiteboard on the back wall with possible names for his neighbor, but most of them were pathetic. He just couldn’t come up with anything that would alert his potential playmate to the respect he held for her.

It didn’t help that everyone else still thought she was male, either.

At least he’d been able to make sure his name was of his choosing. Lord Voldemort. He’d left the V carved into his first few victim’s skin. When the department tried to name him Valentine, he’d left his name painted in blood on the ceiling above one of his victims. And he managed to talk them into calling him by his name in an attempt to “soothe his ego”. They’d believed him. They’d tried to offer their serieal killer a token of their respect, hoping he’d get sloppy and get caught.

It was a game he loved to play.

A game that took a vicious turn the night before Detective Granger was due to join their ranks. Another body had been found, but this time, she’d done something new. It was still her work, of that he was certain, even if his colleagues contested the idea. It was too different, they said. It must be a copycat, they implied.

“The cause of death varies from victim to victim,” he said, distracted as he carefully strolled through the crime scene. She’d left a mess this time, which wasn’t usually her MO either, but she’d done it before. The small hotel room was bathed in blood. The carpet soaked crimson and maroon. The color of the bedding indiscernible. The walls splattered.

“Why switch from sculpting and poetry to painting?” he murmured to himself. The flicks and spots dotting the walls lined up with the deep gashes on the victim’s torso. And she’d left him in a hell of a state.

“Cormac McLaggen,” Black called into the room. “Went missing Friday night. I recognize him though. He went to Hogwarts.”

Tom hummed to himself. McLaggen didn’t look much like Hogwarts Alumni naked and sliced up on a hotel room bed with his lackluster package out for God and the world to see.

“This one was personal,” he said, still thinking out loud. Only Malfoy seemed to pay him any attention, which wasn’t unusual. Abraxas made a decent soundboard. “To some degree at least. Left exposed. The only way it could’ve been more so was if…” Tom trailed off as he noted something on McLaggens wrists. The blood was so thick and clotted where he dipped into the sheets that Tom had nearly missed it. A snort left him and he glanced down and found a similar situation at the man’s ankles. “Never mind. There’s still rope on his left wrist, and I’m going to guess those abrasions on his ankles are from handcuffs.”

“Kinky,” Abraxas said.

“Humiliating…” Tom scoffed. “He didn’t get off before he died, I don’t need labs to tell you that. Go ahead and leave a note for Lovegood so she checks his bits in the autopsy, though. I want to know if I’m right.”

Black snorted from the doorway. It amused Tom that he had no interest in entering the room properly, but he supposed this amount of bloodshed wasn’t a typical day in the field for the detective. “That’d be fun to read in the autopsy report. The victim died with a decidedly severe case of blueballs.” He shook his head. “Poor sod.”

Tom gave the room a quick once over. Despite the…painting she’d left them, he could taste poetry in the air. “We’re overlooking something…” he said slowly. The walls were bothering him. The splatters were almost all curved, diagonal swiped that started down -he moved his right hand to his hip- and arced upwards -he extended his arm up and out in the opposite direction, miming the swipes he saw. Some went against the grain of the others. Sloppy, small half-circles. He squinted.

“Has anyone taken pictures from the doorway with the room empty?” he asked, noting the few forensic photographers, and technicians, who perked up at the sound of his voice. “Without anything obstructing the walls?”

When his question was met with silence and shrugged, he shot his team a glare. “Out. All of you. I want wide view, panorama, and close up shots of each wall. Then the normal detailing of the blood formations.”

A rustling crunch of plastic covered shoes and hazard suits grated on his ears as they filed out to let the photographers work in peace for a few moments. The plastic tarp in the hallway, laid down to protect the carpet, was stamped with bloody blotches. It reminded him of using sponge cut outs to paint stupid pictures in primary school.

Theron Nott was the first of the photographers to approach him, his face drawn and slightly pale. “I dunno how you saw it, Riddle,” he said, “but I think I figured out what you were seeing.”

Tom replaced his gloves before taking the camera from Theron and tapping through the photos he’d taken. He zoomed in on the panorama and sucked in a breath when his hunch appeared to be accurate. Then a wide grin spread across his face.

“She’s mocking us,” he said. His delight made Abraxas, Black, and Nott share a worried glance. “I told you morons she was female.”

Triumph burning in his eyes, Tom turned the digital face of the camera to the side so they could all see it.

There, written in spiky, flung slashes of blood on hideous olive painted drywall, were the words: I AM YOUR LADY.

Long after evidence had been documented and labs had been sent off, when Tom had returned home to his flat for the evening, with the promise of Detective Granger’s appearance on the horizon, Tom felt his cock stir at the memory of reading those words.

Now how could he welcome his new playmate to the neighborhood?

Tags: @ibuzoo , @disillusionist9 , @meowmerson , @ash-castle , @kyoki777, @katsitting, @sangnoire, @fundamental-blue, @serpentinred, @nerysdax, and I know I’ve forgotten people...I’m sorry ily all

[imjustthemechanic]

The French Mistake

Part 1/? - A Visitor Part 2/? - The Kulturhistorisk Museum Heist Part 3/? - Cutscene Part 4/? - The Marvel Cinematic Universe Part 5/? - Breathless Part 6/? - Escape at Last Part 7/? - Fox in Socks Part 8/? - Things Go Wrong Part 9/? - Downey and Out Part 10/? - Road Trip Part 11/? - Temptation Part 12/? - An Awful Reunion Part 13/? - Unreality Intrudes Part 14/? - A Call for Help Part 15/? - Loki’s Guests Part 16/? - Stan Lee Cameo Part 17/? - Reassessment Part 18/? - Midnight Invasion Part 19/? - Elevator Fight Part 20/? - Courage Part 21/? - Unwelcome Back Part 22/? - Darkest Hour Part 23/? - They Are Here Part 24/? - The Jet Propulsion Laboratory Part 25/? - Word of God Part 26/? - Avengers Assembled Part 27/? - The Houston Underground Part 28/? - Houston has a Problem Part 29/? - Onward and Upward Part 30/? - The Chi’Tauri Queen Part 31/? - Through the Wormhole

I’d hate to disappoint kiralamouse.

The first plan that occurred to Steve was the self-sacrificing wanker one – he could crash the Leviathan.  That would probably kill them all, but it would take the queen with them…

That wasn’t what they were trying to accomplish here, though.  Their whole purpose was to get back home alive.  There was self-sacrificing, and then there was self-defeating.

Suddenly something moved on the console.  The screen Steve had been using to navigate shrank into a corner, and another open popped up.  This was the point of view of one of the remaining soldiers, and it was looking at a tablet, being held up by a terrified NASA employee.

The image was of Ochoa, standing in front of a metal door that Steve recognized as the same type in the tunnels of the Houston underground.  She was still filthy and sweaty, but she had washed her face and was standing up tall, with Colleen and Kevin on each side of her.

“This is Ellen Ochoa, director of the Johnson Space Center,” she said, “and I have a message for you, visitors from space.  You said we have no heroes, but you made two big mistakes.  The first was assuming we can’t make our own wormholes. It just so happens that Dr. Kevin Farinas here is one of the world’s experts.”  Next to her, Kevin held up her drawing of the inner workings of her wormhole machine.  They did look very technical and impressive.  “You may have some of the Avengers,” Ochoa went on, “but we have the rest!”

The metal door behind her rolled up, and a group of figures stepped out.  They were brilliantly backlit and at first it wasn’t possible to see anything but their silhouettes, but those were in themselves familiar.  The stuntmen representing Steve, Thor, and Natasha were not there, but Elizabeth Olsen was, and Jeremy Renner, and Colonel Rhodes, whose actor’s name Steve hadn’t caught.  Spiderman was there – that must be Donny – and Sebastian Stan, dressed as Bucky complete with a special sleeve to represent his mechanical arm, and Pietro, who must have arrived late but there he was, alive and whole.  And finally, Bob Downey, dressed in a tailored suit and red sunglasses that were perfectly Tony Stark.  He stepped up beside Ochoa and took the glasses off.

“That second mistake she mentioned?” he said.  “That was assuming we wouldn’t come for our team-mates.  Avengers,” he turned and pointed at the others.  “Assemble!”

With that, the video was over.

It would never work, Steve thought.  Even with the re-write, the Chi’Tauri would know now that it was a bluff, a distraction.  Just for a split second, however, the queen stopped, staring at the screen and trying to figure out what importance to attach to it.

A split second was all Natasha needed.  She kicked out and hit the pink gem on the queen’s belt.  The force field protecting her flickered and died.  Loki grabbed the end of the staff weapon the queen had taken from him, its shaft still in her hand, and set it off.  The bolt went right through her arm, severing it at the shoulder.  She shrieked and dropped Thor and Natasha, and Loki jammed the muzzle end of the weapon into the bloody stump and fired again, directly into the queen’s flesh.  This shot went right through her and out the other side, spattering Thor with blue-black gore, and the queen collapsed.  Steve had to dive out of the way to avoid her massive body coming down on top of him. Natasha rolled under the console and curled up, preparing to be crushed.

The corpse hit the console, slid a bit, and pushed against the control stick.  The Leviathan rolled over and went into a dive.

Steve dragged himself upright again and tried to push her off.  Thor, on the other side, attempted to pull.  Natasha, trapped under the edge of the console, joined Steve in pushing, and after a moment Loki dropped the staff weapon and did as well.

“You cannot blame me for breaking this!” Thor said.

“Don’t you two dare start!” Natasha ordered.

Warnings blared all around them as they dropped, but the queen’s body was literally dead weight, and it refused to move.  Steve could barely believe this was happening. He felt as if he were outside himself, watching this all go on in slow motion from a million miles away.  They couldn’t have survived everything so far, from the movie set to ruining their alternates’ lives and careers to fighting the Chi’Tauri, only to die in a stupid, stupid accident only moments after they’d won.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the screen with the starfield on it.  There was an icon in the corner like a pulsating circle, spinning end over end. They had nothing to lose now – no harm in experimenting.  He reached up and touched the icon.

It shrank to a point and vanished, and there was a flash of light.  A blue sizzle passed through the cockpit of the Leviathan, bringing with it a prickling sensation and a metallic taste in the mouth, and then suddenly they were weightless.

Zero gravity was not a sensation Steve had felt before, and it was a deeply disorienting one.  His gut told him he was falling, but the air around him was perfectly still.  Loki, who’d still been pushing on the queen, was thrust backwards by his own efforts and set spinning in the air.  Thor, pulling from the other side, could no longer keep his feet on the ground, and grabbed the queen’s arm to keep from floating away.  Natasha squirmed out from under the console and hung there in midair, waving away globs of dark blue blood that were now floating freely.

“I think I just activated the wormhole,” Steve told her.

“Oh, really?” she asked, her face perfectly, sarcastically neutral.

“Yes,” Steve said.  “As a matter of fact.”

The star map screen had now grown larger, to take the place of the front view.  Steve couldn’t identify any of the stars they were seeing, but he wondered…

“Do you think we’re back in our own universe?” he asked.

“We’re certainly not back in our own bodies,” Loki observed.

Like the rest of them, the body of the queen was now floating gently, leaving the controls once again accessible.  Steve took the column and flew the Leviathan in a wide arc, hoping for a look at what was behind them.  He was out of the habit of formal prayer, but in the back of his mind he was murmuring please, God, please… please let him find himself looking down at Earth.  His own Earth, where he was, or had once been, Captain America.

Stars rolled by.

Steve’s hopes sank slowly.  It looked like there was nothing out here… just the black void in all directions.  Then he realized that stars were winking out in one part of the view, and back in a moment later… there was an object there.  Multiple objects.  Multiple big, dark, symmetrical objects, floating out there in space.

The Leviathan’s computer recognized them.  Outlines appeared on the screen of giant ships with smaller companions, and Steve realized they were looking at an entire armada. There were at least six of the big vessels and too many of the small ones to properly count… and here were Steve and the others with their one relatively tiny ship, in bodies that had barely survived four Chi’Tauri.  Who knew how many thousands more were waiting for them out here.

Stark had said that he’d seen what was coming on the other side of the wormhole over New York.  Was this it?  No wonder the man was scared to death.  Scared enough to do anything, even try to use the Mind Stone, if he thought it might save the world from this.

“Steve,” said Natasha, her voice calm but wavering very slightly, “whatever you just did, I think it would be a good idea if you did it again backwards.”

“What if we crash into the ground?” asked Steve.

“Then I guess we crash into the ground,” said Nat.

He reached for the circle icon, which had reappeared in the corner of the screen, but then suddenly the starfield flicked back to being a side image rather than a focus, and a different screen took its place. This one was for communication, and it showed another Chi’Tauri queen even more ornately armored than the last one, draped with metallic cloth and, Steve realized a moment later, much, much bigger.  The tips of staves were visible on either side of her, and the tops of guards’ heads that barely came up to her waist.  She was nearly twenty feet tall.

Steve and Natasha, Loki and Thor all pulled themselves off to the sides or ducked under the edge of the console, hoping they would not be seen.  Perhaps they were not, but there was nowhere to hide the dead body of the smaller queen. It was plainly visible, floating inertly along with its own severed arm.

Other screens lit up, and Steve heard noises as machinery came to life.  The bigger queen vanished again and the star map returned, but this time it had a blinking crosshair on an outer corner of the nearest mother ship.  For a moment they seemed to be standing still, and then Steve saw a few more stars vanish behind the outlines.  They were moving towards the armada.

The group exchanged some glances.  They were all injured to various degrees, beaten and bruised and exhausted.  Nobody felt capable of another fight.

Loki reached out and retrieved the staff weapon, which was floating nearby.  He checked it, and then nodded.  “Still has a charge,” he said.

“Thor,” said Natasha.  “Let’s get some more weapons.”

“I’ll see if I can disengage the autopilot again,” said Steve.

He’d done that before just by pushing hard enough on the steering column, so he tried it again.  It was much more difficult now.  In the lack of gravity he couldn’t push against the floor, so when he tried to rotate the controls he ended up rotating himself.  He had to tuck his knees under the edge of the console for leverage, and then pushed as hard as he could, but it did nothing. The mother ship had control and was not going to relinquish it.

Thor and Natasha returned, and Nat handed Steve a plasma rifle.  It was, as Loki had discovered on the ground, surprisingly heavy.  If Steve had been fighting humans, he would have wanted to use it as a club rather than a gun.  His arm was just barely long enough to reach the firing mechanism inside, and he understood why Loki had found it so awkward to aim.

“Where’s that force field switch?” asked Nat.

“Here.”  Loki showed it to her, on the bottom of the device.  “Just remember that it will not fire with the field activated.”

“Got it,” said Nat.

The mother ship was looming very large in the viewscreen now, like the Death Star dwarfing the Millennium Falcon.  Steve wondered how big it was.  It had to be at least the size of Manhattan.  If one of these had come through to Earth, SHIELD’s helicarriers would have looked like mosquitos buzzing around it.

“My friends,” said Thor, “it will be an honour to die by your sides.”

“I would have counted it a greater honour not to have died at all,” Loki observed.

“Same,” said Nat.

Distant sounds echoed through the structure of the Leviathan as it docked.  Steve heard metal scrape on metal, clicks and thumps of things sliding into place, and then with a final dull, reverberating clang, the gravity came back on.  The queen’s body hit the cockpit floor with a sound like dropping an enormous leather coat, and Steve squeaked as he came down on his bad ankle, but quickly silenced himself again.  Everybody double-checked their weapons, and Steve observed that he was proud of them – all of them, including Loki.  They had no fight left in them, but they were going to keep fighting anyway.

Something below them rumbled.  It must have been a door open.  Perhaps it was the Leviathan’s mouth.

Heavy, leathery footsteps were heard, very loud now that the motion of the Leviathan had ceased.  The ladders creaked.

The first soldier poked its head through the entrance on Steve’s left.  Natasha took aim and shot it in the face.  It dropped out of sight again, with a series of cries and thumps that suggested it had fallen on top of several of its fellows.  A second soldier popped up on the right.  Loki blasted it with the staff weapon.

The Chi’Tauri were not stupid, though – the next ones that appeared had their force fields on.  That meant they couldn’t shoot, but they also couldn’t be shot, and Steve and the others would have to take them on hand-to-hand.  Thor tried Steve’s move from the foyer at the Johnson Space Center, throwing himself at a Chi’Tauri’s legs to knock it down.  This worked, but the next alien behind it grabbed him and held him off the floor by one leg.  Loki slashed with the staff weapon’s bladed end and stabbed one Chi’Tauri in the belly, but another one wrested it from his hands with ease.

It didn’t take long, just a few desperate, panicky, painful seconds.  None of them were capable of putting up a decent fight in their current state. Steve, too, was lifted off the ground. His captor snarled at him, and Steve could only hope that wherever he was now, Chris Evans would forgive him.