#i should really think of some way to prevent confusion of this sort

[aethersflames]

my brain every time i try to remember Scaeralvi's name

WSHSSHSEKJKHJHSEHFS

[pucksandpebbles]

𝒃𝒍𝒖𝒆 𝒔𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒑𝒔, 𝒋𝒉⁸⁶ - 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑡𝑤𝑜

"And I know you know what's going on I'm going home, l'ma take it off for him I'ma strip down all your wrongs, yeah" Quinn comes to town to babysit you after the stunt you'd pulled, but you've got other ideas of how his visit will play out.

a/n: y'all showed part one a lot of love and a lovely anon suggested a continuation for this story which I took and ran with it - so enjoy! Implications and references to sex but nothing detailed.

wc: 1,8k

Quinn was furious. He stood in front of the door, blocking your exit as you faced him, dressed up and ready to go out, bag in hand and dress leaving little to the imagination. To his imagination. 

“No. No parties. No nothing.” He declared.

You smirked, he was not winning this argument, “Listen, I’m going whether you like it or not. Your choices are as follows. One, you stand your ground and have to face up to the reinforcements that I will call in, or two you let me go.��

“Not going to happen.”

Folding your arms, you sighed, “I’m sure we can come up with some sort of compromise here.”

For a moment, neither of you said anything, you simply glared at him - a silent battle of wills occurring between you. 

Then, “You can go,” your face erupted into a smile, “but, I supervise.”

A win was a win. It’d be easy to get away from Quinn under the confusing and pulsing lights of the club, even more so if you could pay off one of your friends to keep him distracted all night. Revenge was a dish best served hot, burning hot, so hot that it scolded. That’s how you’d done it with Jack, and that’s how you’d do it with Quinn.

As you followed him out of the apartment and downstairs, you shook your head, remembering the truly crazy past twenty-four hours of your life.

You’d woken up to a loud, banging at your door - the aggressive noise shot your heart rate up and you’d scrambled off where you’d fallen asleep on the sofa in front of the television to the door, tugging at your night dress which barely covered the tops of your thighs in a desperate attempt to lengthen it. You checked the time on your phone, it was the early hours of the morning. Who in the hell was knocking on your door at this time? With desperate and shaking fingers, you put the key in the door and in the middle of another round of raps, you pulled the door open.

Stood in the darkened hallway was none other than Quinn. Quinn Hughes. Hair dishevelled and wearing his Canucks hoodie. Your jaw almost fell to the floor with surprise.

“Quinn, what the fuck are you doing here?”

“I think the question should go more like, what the hell are you doing?” He retorted, pushing his way into the apartment. You side-stepped his movement, shaking your head and rolling your eyes at the brazeness - Jack had to get it from somewhere you guessed. 

Closing the door, you turned around to where Quinn had dropped his duffle bag on your kitchen counter, “Quinn, you should be in Michigan right now, or Vancouver. I don’t really care. But you have no business here.”

“My business here is you. What the hell were you thinking at that bar?!”

You folded your arms over your chest, spitting back, “I was thinking I wanted to get over Jack by getting under someone new. Didn’t know I needed your permission for that. I am an adult, I can do what I like of my own free will. So you can leave.”

Taking off his jacket, and leaning against the counter top, Quinn shot back, “No actually, I’ll be baby-sitting you until further notice. What you did was reckless and dangerous.”

You scoffed, turning your head to the side. Not caring if you looked stroppy or petulant. Quinn couldn’t just come storming in, berate you and then refuse to leave and seemingly prevent you from having any further fun. Well, the joke was about to be on him. Without a word, you returned back to your place on the sofa, pulling out your phone and the groupchat with the girls. What you said was simple, concise and bound to get you in trouble with Mother Quinn. But so what, he’d signed himself up on the ride.

You: Fancy a round two, girls?

The uber ride was silent. Quinn was shifty and awkward and you felt jittery being stone-cold sober as you began to approach the club. Without the aid of the liquid courage, you’d probably have never been into a club before, the loud noises and flashing lights had a tendency to spike your heart rate and make you shaky and nervous.

Your legs wobbled slightly as you got out of the uber, Quinn took your hand, helping you down.

“It’s the heels,” You smiled, but you had a terrible feeling that he could see right through you.

You met the girls inside, hastily knocking back a couple shots to shake off the feeling that was beginning to settle into your bones.

After the first couple of rounds, the dance floor was your destination. Although you just couldn’t relax, feeling the glare of Quinn hot against your skin. You groaned, turning to your friend,

“I need someone to get rid of him for me.”

“Why is he even here?” She shouted back over the hard beat of the music.

You shook your head, brushing your hair off your shoulders and the way it was already beginning to stick to the back of your neck. 

In response, you yelled back, “Baby-sitting me apparently, after the stunt I pulled on Jack the other night.”

She rolled her eyes, continuing to shake her hips to the country song blasting over the speakers. You watched as she glanced over at where he was standing by the bar and then her gaze flickered back to you.

“You know what I would do if I were you?”

Your eyes sparkled with interest, you leaned in closer as she whispered in your ear, “Get with him.”

“Who, Quinn? I can’t!”

She knocked shoulders with you, a horrible teasing smirk on her face, “Sure you can, the opportunity is staring you right in the face.”

You paused, looked over your shoulder at him.

She continued, a smile flashing across her face, “Think about how pissed off Jack would be. Plus, I’m sure the sex is great.”

“I-” You tried to come up with an excuse but you couldn’t. The last time you’d refused to listen, you’d ended up looking at pictures of Jack getting back out there while you sobbed into your cup of coffee. 

“It’s petty, but it’s brilliant.” You relented.

She sighed, throwing her hands up in celebration, “Finally you listen!”

“But what makes you think he’s down?”

“Girl, the way he looks at you? That man wants it bad.”

She pushed your chest, spinning you around and sending you through the crowd, with a final whisper in your ear.

“Go get him girl.”

You slunk your way through the crowd, trying to avoid a drunken stranger bumping into you with a full cup of whatever. Your eyes locked onto Quinn, he was watching, looking right at you as you moved towards him. When you finally reached him, leaning on the bar next to him, you said, 

“You gonna drink something or are you gonna stare at me dancing all night.”

He shook his head stoically, scoffing a little but it just came out defensive, “I am not staring.”

You smirked, leaning in a little further, “It’s okay, you can admit it. I know I have a great ass.”

A moment elapsed, his mouth was stuck open a little as if he was trying to speak but nothing was coming out. 

He turned away from you, looking back into the swarm of people on the dance floor. His recovery was weak, you knew that, “I was not staring.”

Knowing you’d hit the jackpot, you already had him hooked, you leaned in to whisper in his ear, “If you want a piece of it, all you have to do is ask.”

He reeled around, shaking his head, voice harsh, “You are my brother’s ex-girlfriend. Jack’s ex-girlfriend. I cannot-”

“-fuck me. Sure you can Quinn.”

He countered, “It’s weird.”

“What is it they say?” You smiled, cocking your head to the side, “The heart wants what it wants. 

Both of you are shaking. It’s a need now, this wanting is taking over you and you know Quinn feels the way the energy in the room seems to pulse around you two. 

It’s only a second, when he leans in, breath warm and hovering just above your cupid’s bow - you’ve barely had time to process how fast he’s moved. You can’t help but hold your breath as you face each other, barely apart but not even touching. Then you meet, he moves in, slow and fast all at once and it’s like lightning has struck your body, you feel electric where his lips meet yours. His hands press onto your hips and they tingle with the sensation of how his warm fingers grip your flesh. They move upwards as he tongues further into your mouth. One hand brushes away your blonde hair and cups your jaw. You sigh as he kisses you - leaning back into it. When he pulls away, gently, you immediately want more, instantly addicted to his taste. A small whine escapes you.

“You’re not too drunk for this are you?”

You smile, “Trust me, I’m not.”

“Good.”

It was a scramble from there to get in an uber and back to your apartment. Your kisses were hot and messy in the car, as he thumbed at the skin of your bare thighs visible below the short hem of your dress. The contact and simultaneous lack of it was driving you crazy. By the time you were laid out on your bed, he’d already reduced you to yelps and whines. 

The whole drunken affair was something else. As you writhed on the bed under him, you silently prayed for your poor neighbours who could almost certainly hear your moans and cries through the wall. But Quinn was loving it, and your friend was not wrong - the sex was the best you’ve ever had. Mad and full of passion in a way you’d never experienced before. You forgot about revenge on Jack and how heartbroken you’d been only a few days earlier and simply lost yourself in Quinn.

Until the next morning.

It was the obnoxious ringtone of Quinn’s phone that stirred the both of you, bare limbs sticky and tangled up in each other. Wearily, Quinn grabbed it and accepted the call.

You could hear the yelling voice through the phone from where you were laid on Quinn’s chest. It was Jack. Of course.

“You fucked her? You fucked my ex-girlfriend?!”

Without thinking, you grabbed the phone from Quinn’s hand and said into it, “Yes, he did, thank you.” 

Then, simply hung up. You let the phone fall into the white sheets. You and Quinn looked at each other. You whispered,

“What the hell did we just do?”

And yet, you didn’t regret it. Not for one second.

[okaysonny]

strange encounters in suwon // samuel seo

★ summary: a food stall in the derelict area of suwon brings interesting customers.

★ details: angsty + lore heavy, takes place in 407 (first gen king arc), f! reader, sammy thinks about family, big deal + hostel mentioned, very 'in his thoughts'.

★ wc: 1.6k

★ A/N: hohoho...so i did the thing. first time posting a fic ever :') tried my very best! divider credits.

"here's your grilled eel" "thank you"

so. how was his week? shit, to be frank. belittled in front of his boss, grabbed by the chin, blasted by fire extinguishers, and having to play chauffeur. for eli jang of all people.

hostel's head. the only thing he produced in three years was crap haircuts. yet eugene put him in charge of the fifth affiliate. everything samuel clawed his way up for was given to eli in a day. and why? just because of the past?

it struck a nerve. he struck a nerve. so badly that they almost fought naked in a public bath. he'd never admit the whole situation was slightly embarrassing.

…

"dad...are those guys scary people?" "i-it's okay! dad will protect you!"

family, huh? it's what eli and warren were doing this for. but to him, the concept was almost foreign. even more foreign than learning japanese. and jesus christ, that was a pain in the ass.

whatever. he brought the shot glass to his lips. if he was stuck babysitting dom torretto and friends, he should enjoy the break from it while he could. that is until a hand prevented him.

"stop! you look like you're still a minor. you shouldn't be drinking!"

the fuck? he looked up. a girl. the one who served him grilled eel. they looked the same age, but she obviously didn't think so.

"where are you from? did you run away from home? your family must be worried sick!"

that word again. he took a chug absentmindedly. "i'm not a minor"

"oh my god! what are you doing?!" she pinched her nose in frustration. as if he was in the wrong here.

"look…can you just put the bottle away, please?" her voice was brought to a whisper. "i don't want to give my aunt over there a hard time"

he glanced to the front, where an older woman was washing pans. her forehead was sleek with sweat. anyway, what was the point in whispering when she just yelled earlier?

"how would i be giving her a hard time if i'm not a minor?"

"that's bullshit! you're definitely a minor. you're not fooling me!"

his felt his jaw clench as he plastered the usual corporate smile. can't even relax in some measly food stall, for crying out loud. he wordlessly took out his wallet and fished for his driver's license. "happy now?"

complete silence as she read the date of birth. a pink bloom suddenly touched her cheeks. "same age…? i'm sorry about that. you just really looked like a minor, tattoo guy!"

oh. that caused the smile to drop. "…tattoo guy? you should be treating customers with more manners than that"

she furrowed her brows in confusion, as if what he said was unfathomable. "…customers?! we barely get any nowadays! you must be a tourist! everyone avoids food stalls like this because of a staffing agency. they chase the owners out to redevelop the area. no one wants to be part of a thug fight, so they keep away"

she smiled, but there was no sincerity behind it. samuel was familiar with the sort.

"they always pester my auntie to move, y'know? it's a miracle this place is still up. i keep telling her to find a spot outside suwon, but she won't budge! 'suwon belongs to the people' she says. so…i have to look after her. who knows when they'll come back again?"

cool story. one he was familiar with. he just wanted a drink, to be honest. before he could express so, she continued. "…what about you? do you have someone you look out for?"

…no? the answer was no. obviously. "does it matter?"

an evil grin formed on her, almost cartoonish. "you basically just answered my question! so, you don't?"

she gazed back to the front, to the woman who was now wiping down the cutlery. her eyes crinkled at the corners before turning back to him.

"hang around my auntie for a day - she'll change your mind!"

…why does this girl sound like a hallmark movie? sentimental people like this are easy to exploit. it's why eli and warren were workers now. it's why sinu spent so long in their captivity. it's why jake's dumbass got arrested.

fine, he'll humour her. the stall was getting destroyed soon anyway. "…not everyone is fortunate enough to have those people"

her lips pursed. he got her there.

well. he thought so until she spoke again.

"…who said anything about fortune?! hmm…" she looked at him, as if for the first time.

"alright, tattoo guy. i see you have a strained relationship with your family. but that's why you build those connections yourself! with nicer people"

he clamped his eyes shut in irritation. "…look-"

nope. her monologues knew no end.

"it wasn't even my plan to work here actually. my parents made me! they were too busy to mind her themselves. but i'm so glad they did, because she's the best! i would've never known! i'm not trying to sound cliché or anything, but there's always someone"

cliché? at least she's self-aware.

it seemed his thoughts had a mind of its own as they drifted.

"All we're missing is you lol" "f u"

gross. why'd he think of that?

annoyance dug into him. eli and warren would be waiting for him soon. what a waste of a break this was.

"…can i just finish my meal?"

she thankfully decided to spare him. "oh…right. sorry-"

"what's going on here? why haven't you packed up yet? we told you to vacate this area"

he didn't need to look up. seokdu staffing agency. a lot of them. how unfortunate. his eyes were glued to the empty glass. he still saw that girl's hands start to tremble from the corners.

CLANG

"old farts like you just don't listen unless we use force" "you bastards! how are people like me supposed to survive?!" "not my problem, bitch"

she reached for something in her pocket. looked like a tazer. even so, he could still see her hands trembling.

seemed like the woman noticed. "…are you crazy?! get back inside! i'll handle it, so don't worry!"

…

"dad...are those guys scary people?" "i-it's okay! dad will protect you!"

for fuck's sake. "excuse me…can i get another bottle of soju?"

...?

the next few minutes were honestly a blur. he fought those staffing agency lackeys. then that changyong guy brought excitement in him, but he turned out like those ansan kids. samuel was simply too strong for the majority. a double-edged sword indeed.

as he took a drag on his cigarette, he noticed that girl and her aunt. they were gripping each other the whole time. as if that would magically put them in less danger.

the stall was destroyed. not solely because of the staffing agency, but still.

"child! are you okay? you're not hurt or anything?" "seriously, i'm fine! but…your stall. it's ruined"

"never mind about that! all that matters is your safety right now! and when the hell did you get that tazer?"

…seriously, was this a hallmark movie?

he took out his wallet again, pocketing his id first before handing it to the woman.

"let me pay my bill" "y-young man?! why did you give us your wallet?"

he really could've left without paying. what could they have done? but it didn't matter why. he won't miss a few bills.

"you can sell it and use the money. maybe open a nicer place…that grilled eel was decent"

right. the food. it would be a pity for good cuisine to not be tasted.

he turned for the exit...but nope, the same hand stopped him yet again.

"wait! it's not the wallet. there's so much money in this! are you really just giving this to us?"

was this girl serious? did she expect him to take it back now? …the money wasn’t for them — it was for him. a quick fix for the nagging voice in the back of his head.

"it's chump change to me. just take it" "…tattoo guy! thank you! so you were a good person after all!"

a good person. that was a new one. has anyone said that before? not jake. not sinu. not even alexander. people he begrudgingly spent months with. but she came to that conclusion from some bills and a few minutes of forced conversation?

if she’d seen a fraction of what he’d done, she’d choke. a good person. the words felt bizarre. like they belonged to someone else entirely.

"…it's fine. and…i have no family. i never had one" he began his retreat back to the car, to the slightly smaller car that replaced his fire-extinguished one.

…footsteps? oh for fuck's sake-

"thank you!" she called out. "i hope you visit suwon again! your next meals on the house!"

truly a hallmark movie. but samuel wasn't coming back. suwon was merely one of the many stops the fifth affiliate had to make.

he gets in the car and sets his glasses down, glancing at the suit he had to change into soon. the taste of eel still lingered.

there was really nothing special about her. in fact, she was quite annoying. accused him of being underage and tried to give him a therapy session.

and yet. that girl so unlike him, so oblivious to how the world really worked, her vibrance such a contrast to his dullness. it almost fascinated him. must be the soju.

yes, he wasn't coming back. he preferred seoul by a landslide.

as he drove past, he could see the two of them laughing together, even though they had to start all over again.

the concept felt slightly, just slightly, less foreign.

family, huh?

[suusoh]

(tw: yandere themes, sadomasochism, johan being a bastard.)

"Oh god, leave me alone Johan." you shakily voice out. Swallowing down the lump in your throat that your nerves refuses to push down. "You're... y-you're gonna do something weird with me I can feel it."

Johan's soft and almost peaceful gaze continues to stare at you.

The gentle smile, the one that politely charms everyone on campus who's laid eyes on him, continues to rest on his lips. But for a split second, a different sort of mirth flickers in his eyes before it gets blinked away.

"That's an interesting observation..."

He softly muses. Pondering for a bit, which seems redundant since his voice holds a certain type of awareness.

"... I do brush off as... weird at times. Don't I?"

He looks to you again, waiting, drinking in your expression before you can finally give a proper response. He usually keeps his distance, his presence alone should suffice to subdue you into a nervous and slightly agitated mess... but he wants to observe all of this more fully. A want growing within him to see you up close and personal, a closer look at how your mind will grasp at handling this uncertain situation with him.

He takes a step closer to you.

"B-back off!"

You shakily bark at him, eyes desperately searching all around you for an exit, and escape in any form.

Your warning doing nothing as Johan continues to walk calmly towards you. He takes his time, slightly endeared with the small show of you scrambling around the dead end you're already in, there's no one around so you can't even use someone else's presence to get you out of this situation socially. He watches it all patiently, even until you eventually fold into yourself once you realise you're at a loss.

As he reaches you, he brings his hands to slowly hold onto your wrists. Not minding your soft whimpers and stubbornness as you try to make yourself ball up, body hunching over in an effort to shield your hands away from him. He continues to keep his gentle grasp on your hands, handling it in what feels like a guiding manner.

He doesn't really use any of strength or force in his grip to keep you still— he sees that issue's already been more than taken care of by the near nervous breakdown you're having.

You still shakily confront him with whatever remnants of bravado you have, as a last ditch effort.

"I-I don't know what you want from me, I know everyone else at university thinks you're some nice guy..."

you breathe in.

"—but I know how much of a creep you really are Johan Liebert! Don't think I haven't noticed all the weird ways you act around when almost no one's looking."

An unexpected shiver runs down Johan's spine from hearing that but he keeps himself still. He's so pleasantly curious. He uses this thumb to lightly rub against the skin of your inner wrist.

"Mhm, so you see me as a creep then... " he hums softly, "What else?"

You can't help but tilt your head a bit. Slight confusion overriding your current nervousness.

"W- what?"

Johan just smiles before he asks again softly, but there is a certain sort of airiness in his voice upon speaking.

"I said... what else?"

You notice the slight breathlessness from his tone, the slight hitch in it is subtle... but still not subtle enough to go unnoticed. You try to register what you can about it for a few seconds before your face morphs into dreadful realization at what's happening.

You begin to thrash from his hold. Using your shaky legs to try and break yourself free and make a run for it, but all it ever does is make you nearly collapse onto the hard floor. Johan tenderly holds you closer against him in order to prevent your fall. You clench your eyes tightly to avoid looking at him and to stop the tears already threatening to spill from you.

"fuck fuck fuck fuck- let me go, let me fucking go!" you sob out. "you're so gross. Oh my god. You're weird Johan. Get off me, you're fucking gross!"

"I am quite gross, yes." he let's out a soft laugh.

"Ah... you probably think I'm a freak too, don't you? I would like to hear you say it, if you will..."

There's something about being you calling him all those names that strikes both a chord and a match inside him. He leans down closely, observing the tears glistening down your cheeks, relishing in the alluring sight in front of him.

"Y-you're so... you're s-so sic—"

"Sick."

Johan can't hold back the small excited smile slowly tugging at the corners of his mouth anymore. "How astute of you, I really am... I truly am sick aren't I?"

He'd be lying if he said he wasn't quite surprised with his own growing excitement, but he quickly accepts it. Wanting nothing more but to keep exploring this new... development of his. He softly murmurs into you.

"What more do you want to call me, (name)? Go on, don't be shy, I'm sure you've noticed far more than most of the people here, hm?"

He feels his body almost involuntarily lean in towards you. Slowly, slowly, giving in to his urge to muzzle his face with yours, his lips lightly tracing the trail of tears on your cheeks, taking note of the salty taste.

"You can tell me... please, do tell me. You must also think I'm disgusting, don't you? Well come on, allow me to hear it..."

His lips smile softly into the wet skin of your puffy cheeks and he moves, guiding your body even closer to him. His hold on your wrist from earlier smoothly rubs up all the way to your palm, before eventually intertwining his fingers with yours.

"...Tell me I'm disgusting (name)... go on... say it..."

Johan sighs softly, cradling your head under his chin.

He wonders how long before you start calling him a pervert.

[unoislazy]

I lied to all of you, Hiccup later, Mizu now!

Spar With Me

Mizu x Reader

Disclaimer; Possible spoilers.

Mizu will be referred to as “he/him” since the reader won’t know her secret at this point in time.

I can’t guarantee this will be completely in character, I’m still learning more about the characters so bear with me.

Part Two

Part Three

————————————————————

You had been traveling alongside Mizu and Ringo for a fair amount of time. You had been haphazardly picked up along the way, very much to Mizu’s dismay. The only reason you were allowed to tag along was your fighting skills. Your skills were no wear near Mizu’s level, not many people would be, but you were able to do enough that if the need arose, you’d be able to form some sort of protection for yourself and possibly Ringo.

But you wanted to learn more.

You didn’t want to do like Ringo and become a Samurai, it should be clear to anyone that Mizu was not a samurai, you wanted to learn how to fight. Throughout your travels with the two you watched how the man practically danced with a sword, the elegance as he leapt through the air and sliced up men with ease. The sword seems to be a sort of extension of him, of his arm, or his heart. When he wielded the sword it was like they were connected more than just physically.

You didn’t understand it well but you wanted to learn.

You had your reasons for wanting to fight. You didn’t want to learn in the name of tyranny or even greed, you wanted to learn to prevent a situation from happening ever again.

When you were younger, you certainly weren’t the most popular kid in your village. You never truly did much to attract attention so people often never really batted an eye to your presence. However, that meant no one truly noticed when you would walk around with several visible injuries some days after being picked on by some of the other village kids.

They didn’t pick on you for any other reason than they were bored and they knew they wouldn’t face any consequences if they went after you.

And they were right.

You tried your hardest to fight back but they were always a step ahead of you. So from then on you knew you wanted to learn how to fight, if not to protect yourself then maybe to have the hopes of one day protecting someone else.

You all continued to travel in complete silence, the snow lightly crunching beneath yours and Mizu’s feet. The only thing giving away Ringo's position was the bell that was wrapped around his foot. You looked down at his bell and smiled, it was almost like putting a collar on a pet, it was kind of funny to you. Ringo turned to you, noticing you looking at the bell and he excitedly smiled.

“Do you like it? Master gave it to me, he says I’m too sneaky so now he knows where I am at all times!” He loudly exclaimed, you think he was trying to whisper but he was obviously doing horribly at it. Mizu, who was walking a few steps ahead of you two, gave you a slight glance over the shoulder. You didn’t really notice as you were still smiling at Ringo, you enjoyed his ever optimistic demeanor on everything, it was so different from everyone else’s dreary lives and it gave you a reason to smile.

Ringo leaned over to you, trying his best to lower his voice but he still said everything quite loud.

“Maybe master will give you one too! That way we can both be sneaky apprentices.” He whispered, causing you to burst out laughing.

“Me? Get a bell?” You laughed before continuing, “I’m not going to call the man my master, I have no reason to.” You stated pretty plainly, which obviously confused Ringo.

“You want to learn how to fight, yes?”

“Yeah.”

“And you want to learn from Mizu, right?”

You nodded your head agreeing with him before realizing what he was getting at.

“So then Mizu is your master!”

“Woah, no way.” You argued, now crossing your arms with your head raised high.

You had your issues with calling some man your master. Especially one that barely gave you the time of day. Plus, if it wasn’t for your persistence and Ringo's persuasion, he would’ve left you on that street corner where he found you.

But he didn’t.

He instead let you travel along like a stray dog, following him around on his dark mission that you felt no need to ask about. You had talked to him maybe a handful of times before but he clearly didn’t want to give you the idea that he wanted you around. You were welcomed here, but with very cold and rigid arms instead of nice warm ones.

You might’ve been following him like a stray dog but you’re no pet.

And so you refuse to get that stupid bell.

“Why don’t you want to be Masters apprentice? I’d say it’s very fun, I get to do stuff for him all the time!” Ringo said, it was obvious he was trying to persuade you in some way.

“Well my friend, I think that position is occupied, number one. And number two, I want to learn how to fight, that’s it. I don’t want to learn the ins and outs of being a samurai. I’m simply hoping Mizu will teach me, as a friend.” You explained, it seemed this finally clicked with Ringo, but then you watched as his face contorted into more confusion by your answer.

Before he could ask, Mizu abruptly turned to the both of you and simply stated,

“It’s getting late, we should rest here.”

You both nodded as Mizu walked off in some random direction with Ringo following him. You however, took a moment to just stare at the already dark night sky. You hadn’t realized just how long you had been traveling, and you were a bit peeved that you had missed seeing the sunset. Although it’s not like you would’ve really been able to see it anyways, you were currently deep into a forest, surrounded by hundreds of trees with no clear direction in any which way.

Speaking of not knowing your direction, you quickly looked back down and spotted Ringo, quickly following after him as to not get left behind. If they had left you you would’ve been screwed, you have no idea where you are, or how to get out of the forest, not to mention there’s usually many dangers in the woods that you’re not yet prepared to deal with.

It didn’t take long for a fire to get set up and for Ringo to start cooking. He might not have made the world's best soba, but you’d argue it was pretty high up there. You and Mizu sat quietly by the fire, not really saying a word to each other as you stared at the scorching flames before you.

You wanted to ask if you could try training, while you’re both not doing anything, you wanted to try.

But you were almost afraid of Mizu. His stoic demeanor often sent shivers down your spine especially when he had such a stern tone of voice.

Well it’s now or never.

“Hey Mizu?” You began. You could see him just barely out of your peripheral vision. He turned his head ever so slightly to look at you, but you didn’t want to look back as you continued,

“Before Ringo finishes the food, would you mind sparring with me?” You asked. Mizu stared at you for a moment before looking back to the tree he had been looking at before. Maybe he was thinking about his answer?

Your eyes slowly crept over to look at him from the side. He didn’t really make a move to give you an answer, he simply sat there, thinking.

“It can double as extra training for you. Obviously not to your level, but you can use me as a warm up.” You persisted, now fully looking at him. You stared at him for a moment, he was probably in the most relaxed position you ever have, or ever would see him in. He rested one of his arms on his knee with his back against the tree trunk that lay behind himself. His dark hair was in its usual top knot and his glasses remained on and pushed up.

You didn’t know why he wore those glasses, you had never seen him take them off, and you had never seen behind them. Maybe he just really enjoyed wearing them, maybe a family heirloom?

Well, from what you knew about the man, his family definitely wasn’t something he’d want to honor with an heirloom. Plus, they seemed more of a newer style of glasses so there goes that idea.

After staring for what was in reality, maybe ten seconds, you looked away. If he wasn’t going to train you then who was, why were you even here if he wasn’t going to give you a chance. Were you seriously just along to be Ringo's makeshift bodyguard? Seriou-

“Fine, get up.”

You looked confused, being snapped out of your thoughts so abruptly had you thinking you completely made up what you thought you just heard.

“Do you want to learn or not?” Mizu asked, now standing before you, looking down at you as he waited for your answer. You nodded eagerly, quickly standing up and following Mizu just a little ways away from the fire.

It wasn’t like the forest was pitch black, you could still see thanks to the bright moonlight, it was just a little bit harder.

Mizu stopped in a little open area, just enough room for a fight to take place. You looked back, seeing that the fire wasn’t too far but It was enough that you couldn’t exactly see what Ringo was doing because of the trees that blocked your vision.

You stood a little ways away from Mizu, getting into a fighting stance, unarmed. You knew how to use a katana and naginata very loosely, but you wanted to just start with hand to hand. You knew Mizu could easily kill you if he wanted to regardless of what the fighting style was, but you trusted him even the slightest bit to not commit to ending your life.

Now you both stood quietly before each other. Both in fighting positions as you waited for the other one to move. If you were to attack first you were far enough away to give Mizu time to counter you. If Mizu attacked first, you might have time to counter or dodge but you weren’t going to get very far.

So, without another thought, you charged at Mizu. He waited for a moment before doing the same, and just as you were about to swing, he threw snow right in your face.

“Hey!” You shouted, wiping the snow out of your eyes before looking up and seeing Mizu sending a punch right for your face. You successfully dodged underneath and swung your leg to send Mizu off balance.

“You must be ready to use all the elements to your advantage.” He instructed, easily jumping out of the way of your kick and backing away. You quickly got up, dodging another one of his kicks before going in for a punch. You sent too much momentum into it which left you way too open and vulnerable leading Mizu to easily knock you off balance.

It was clear he wasn’t going to hurt you, just humiliate you for your lack of understanding of how to fight.

You fell to the ground, looking up at Mizu who was just staring at you, waiting for you to make your next move.

You two continued to fight for some time and you honestly could have sworn that you saw him smile a few times. Sure it might’ve been at your expense but you still felt proud enough to achieve such a feat.

You were slowly but surely getting the hang of it as you went.

Or so you thought.

You had gotten yourself into a position where you had a full plan of attack, but it seemed like Mizu was already eight steps ahead of you because with one simple move, he had knocked you down, now pinning you to the cold and snowy ground.

You struggled beneath his grip, trying to find a way out to attack but it was no use. He was indeed a lot stronger than you.

“Stop fussing, you lost.” He stated with what you could have sworn was a teasing smile. Fighting really brought out a different person in Mizu and honestly you didn’t mind it. It felt as if you two had finally started to get to know each other, even if it was just through a series of dodges and snarky remarks. It took you a few moments to realize he was actually straddling you, very tightly one might add. His hands were firmly holding down your hands and it was clear he was not going to budge.

You couldn’t help but feel embarrassed by the current situation you were in. It was nothing short of humiliating to practically beg to fight someone only to wind up underneath them, but you also couldn’t help but admit you also felt embarrassed for other reasons.

You looked up at him, and it was just then you noticed that his glasses had fallen off. You didn’t know when, you didn’t know where, all you knew was now you were staring at a pair of bright blue eyes that seemed to be watching you in amusement.

He watched as your face changed from a sour expression to one of confusion,

“What’s wrong, can’t handle losing?” He teased, nearing you ever so slightly.

That was until you muttered,

“Your… eyes.”

With those two words, Mizu’s amused expression dropped suddenly and he jumped off of you and faced away in a matter of seconds. He quickly grabbed his glasses that had gotten thrown off during one of his many expert maneuvers.

You sat up, now staring at the back of the makeshift samurai who didn’t utter another word.

You had heard stories of ‘the demon eyes’ when you were a kid, everyone did. You might’ve believed those stories when you were younger but here stands someone with those ‘demon eyes’ and you saw nothing more than just a very scarred individual. Sure, Mizu was scary good at wielding weapons, but that wasn’t some demonic power, that was pure skill, and you admired him for it endlessly despite never wanting to admit that outloud.

You both sat in silence, you leaning on your hands and Mizu, sitting with his legs crossed and his back towards you. After a moment of just sitting you took a breath in, as you did so you noticed Mizu’s head lower ever so slightly as if he was preparing to hear or feel something he had heard before.

Your eyes softened as you stated,

“Your eyes… they’re very pretty.” You complimented. You could see Mizu freeze for a moment as you stood up, walking just up behind him.

You couldn’t imagine the amount of stuff he had gone through throughout his life, having to deal with people treating him differently for something he couldn’t control. You didn’t need his whole life story to know it was probably rough. It didn’t take a genius to know that considering where you are, sitting in the middle of the woods as the man before you continued to try to track down certain people for a reason unbeknownst to you.

Mizu continued to sit in silence as you kneeled down just behind him, you reached out your arm to touch his shoulder but you hesitated for a moment. Maybe you shouldn’t, maybe you should just leave him alone, it’s clear he is not comfortable.

You just wanted to show him some kind of comfort, even if it was just in the sense of one little shoulder touch, so that’s what you did. Your hand ever so gently rested on his shoulder before you quietly muttered,

“I mean it.”

Mizu’s head ever so slightly turned towards your direction, but before he could say or do anything you took your hand off of him and quickly stood up, quietly rushing back to Ringo who was still carefully preparing your food.

It was only a few more minutes before Mizu followed behind you, making his way towards the fire. Neither of you mentioned what had just happened and you continued to sit in silence just as you had done before. It was as if all the progress you had made to getting to know him while fighting, had gone down the drain.

Until you heard him quietly mutter,

“Thank you.”

[tanadrin]

would you describe “screening for specific genetic diseases that you can currently screen for and preventing either 1) people who may have children with such diseases to reproduce or 2) people with said diseases from being born” as eugenics or would you prefer to have some other word for this specific phenomenon? because people keep bringing exactly this up sort of as their primary eugenics example (i mean, and similar screening for things i agree with you such screening is impossible for and probably will remain that way, such as autism). and, while i am aware that 1) and 2) are quite different things (as are, say, tay sachs and down’s), what do you think of these?

Eugenics, like many other kinds of discourse categories, doesn’t have a single universal definition, but AFAICT it tends to be concerned with like a population-level view of genetic health. I mean, it’s trying to use science to reify preexisting class and race biases, but that’s what it claims to be doing, and if we take it at its word, some genetic conditions are properly speaking totally irrelevant to eugenic concerns—for example, AIUI Down Syndrome arises as an occasional quirk of human cells dividing weirdly during meiosis, producing the rare non fatal example of one chromosome existing in three copies. There are no asymptomatic carriers of Down Syndrome, nor genetic risk factors (though there are other risk factors like parental age). AFAIK it’s not even heritable—parents with Down syndrome tend to have phenotypically normal children.

So from the perspective of population genetics and public health, Down Syndrome is just a thing that happens sometimes. It’s a random quirk of human reproduction.

In eugenics-as-historically-practiced there was however no clear distinction between real issues of public health from a genetic lens and “disabled people icky” and “minorities and poor people icky,” so eugenics advocates happily sterilized or even murdered people with non-genetic disabilities, people with genetic-but-not-heritable disabilities and health issues, and people whose only “disability” was being poor or a minority. Because whatever definition eugenics advocates might fall back on if pressed, the ideology they were really motivated by preexisted that definition and was not reliant on it. It was just a handy rhetorical tool they could use to prop it up.

Modern eugenicists and “human biodiversity” types are the same. Regardless of what they claim to believe about populations and genetics and just wanting to improve public health, what they really seem to be mad about is, e.g., black people occupying positions of respect and authority in society. So if you try to create a narrow definition of their ideology in the conservative terms they cast it when pressed, you will be continually confused when they get upset about things which their claims should be able to account for. So even though they will claim, for instance, that just because (they argue) black people have on average a lower IQ doesn’t mean there don’t exist individual highly intelligent black people, they will still get mad at any individual black person occupying a high status position on the basis that they are black and so couldn’t possibly have earned that position on their own merit.

That rhetorical concession exists only so you can’t point to any individual person as a counter example to their beliefs, but they will not actually accord such a person any respect when push comes to shove. What they really believe in is hierarchy, and maintaining that hierarchy. Everything else is conditional on that. Science is good science if it supports that hierarchy and their beliefs; it’s PC nonsense if it challenges that hierarchy and their beliefs.

[darkdemeter]

・issue #2・ WOLF AT YOUR DOOR II

⚤ Wanda Maximoff x Werewolf! GN/Female/Male Reader fluff — slightly possessive reader — Wanda and reader being a grump x sunshine couple — profanity — mention of protective reader — all about them pups really — small mention of Wanda's backstory — there's SITCOMS HERE — reader acknowledges the cheese of romcoms — marking — confessions and feels — I think that's it? ✎ 2.9k Never did you ever imagine that pups would become your future. No less, to Wanda Maximoff. Despite your odds and differences to begin with, perhaps you're willing to give this thing a shot.

↳ MASTERLIST | ↳ TAGLISTS ────────────────────────

“No.” 

It’s as simple as that as you push the trolley forward. Wanda pouts and as an act of defiance, she throws the colourful, tiny suit into the metal basket on wheels. You aren’t quick enough to repress the almost disgusted sigh. 

“What’s wrong with it?” she asks behind a scowl as you both continue your voyage down the aisle. “Yellow hurts me. Deeply.”

Was that a lie? Maybe. But did you instantly regret your answer when you see the flicker of disappointment in Wanda’s eyes? There’s no doubt about it. She reaches back into the trolley for the tiny suit, amongst the array of others you both had already picked out, most likely to place it back on the rack when you stop her. 

“Leave it.” She looks shocked when you prevent her from fishing it out of the selection. You only roll your eyes, the faintest of smirks on your lips. “I’ll just have to be blindfolded when I hold them.”

Wanda smiles a toothy smile - that perfect smile - in regards to your humour. You’d never been one at the party to crack jokes but sure as hell would win a joke match against Rhodey. Him and his fucking tank story. 

But Wanda is entertained deeply by the mental picture of you with a literal blindfold over your eyes as you cradle little wolf jr. A picture perfect snapshot already archived in the album in her mind. 

Already midway through the second trimester. Time is flying by so quickly. You both still hadn’t sorted out the crib yet and by that, you hadn’t. But all the cribs you and Wanda saw were made for one baby; two at best if you were really set on them sharing. 

But human cribs never accounted for four pups and you weren’t very impressed by the idea of building four separate cribs. Uh uh, that made your wolf brain go crazy. Your pups separated from each other? How would they bond with each other?

That was how you and Wanda got on the topic of a ‘den’ and nesting. Surprisingly she was on board with the idea from the start when you first told her your concerns about the pups being kept away from each other, that their bonding time would be hindered greatly if you both went about it the human way.

She’d agreed wholeheartedly. Not a huge case it took to convince her. 

Wanda and yourself roll into the next aisle and the first few racks were rows upon rows of socks and shoes meant to be fitted to tiny feet. 

Wanda laughs at the expression on your face and you give her a puzzling furrow, head tilting to the side like a confused dog. 

“What?”

“You,” she giggles, “didn’t expect our little rendezvous night to take so well, did you?” You merely shrug with a small noise, quick to cover it up you clear your throat loudly. 

“You brought it out of me. You should have known never to do that to a werewolf.”

Wanda smirks with a slight nod of her head. She’s double sure she doesn’t regret a single thing. There’s nothing she would trade for this feeling of her hand running over the large bump of her stomach that ferociously kicks with your pups. Four, healthy pups. 

There were still remnants of the aftershock back at the compound. The reveal that you and Wanda had slept together was talk of the compound for weeks before Wanda grew sick and with that, the test coming back positive. When you were able, Banner executed some further tests and you almost fainted right there on the spot when he congratulated on the four additions.

And not to mention the overstimulation on your part. Not only was Wanda a walking ball of ever changing hormones but you were in overdrive as well. Anytime someone made Wanda upset in the slightest you were on them in a matter of seconds. Fury had to call an emergency meeting in regards to keeping yourself in line throughout Wanda’s pregnancy. Not that it helped, you only grew to become fiercely protective over Wanda and your unborn pups. 

But for Wanda it was all she could want. Not to lie to yourself - your counsellor advised that lying to yourself is a bad habit - but you were happy as well. This was a secret dream come true. Wanda’s interest is piqued when she spots a set of black footed pyjamas with crescent moons on the pads of the feet and little pawprints scattered across the body. 

“Y/N, look!” she gapes as she holds the suit up for you to look at. Out of some maternal habit, she holds it against her bump and in that moment, it all hits you like a freight train. 

You were going to become a parent. A wolf parent. You wouldn’t be so alone anymore now with Wanda carrying your lineage within her womb. And she’s excited for it. Has been since the very beginning. To have such an opportunity before you now, you realise just how alone you were before. How fine you’d been being so alone before. 

But if you had a chance to go back in time, to stop yourself from entering Wanda’s dormitory that night, you realise now that you wouldn’t. 

Your lips part but no words come to mind. You’re drawn at a blank. All you can do is marvel at the inevitable coming of your pups. “I think we should get them, the pups will look so cute.” She grabs three more and places them in the trolley. 

‘Fucking hell…’

Wanda looks up from the haul and tilts her head curiously at the look you give her. Eyes wide, unblinking and just simply admiring her. Right there in that aisle of baby supplies. Not exactly one of those times in movies where the misunderstood, hardened love interest finally sees the sunshine protagonist in the highlight of their epiphany and has a complete one-eighty on their entire reality; but fuck, it was close enough. 

Seeing Wanda swollen large with your pups. It’s something that cannot - will not - be robbed from you. “You okay?” she asks softly and you nod slowly. 

“Yeah. Really good, actually.”

Ugh, those sitcoms and romcoms she’s made you watch are starting to rub off on you. You sound so fucking cheesy. She smiles wider this time and using a hand to flip some loose hair behind her shoulder, she beckons you to follow her. 

Maybe yellow isn’t such a bad colour. You can make it work.

Dinner time is rolling around and you check the time, just ten minutes past six. Wanda happily prepares dinner for both of you and your invited guests, her eyes occasionally lifting to watch the sitcom she’s adamant on watching.

At first, you didn’t get the fascination with a cast of characters just doing mundane things in one space only to have the laugh track and fade effect transition into the next location. 

However, Wanda was quite open with you about her life before Hydra took her and her brother. That she adored sitcoms from a young age, and one of the last memories she has is sitting down next to Peitro in front of the TV to watch an episode of the Dick Van Dyke show, her parents cuddled together on the couch. 

It was a raw scene to bear witness to. Her eyes flooded with tears. The only thing you could do in that moment was pull her to you in a tight embrace. The rest is history. One of your personal favourites was Bewitched, but you refuse to admit that to anyone. 

“How’s the project coming along?” Wanda asks as she stirs the contents in the pot around, giving it a little taste test. “It’s good,” you answer with a focused grunt, expertly working one of the last screws into place. 

“You’re following the instructions, right?” You don’t need to look at her to know her attention is elsewhere, she’s not even looking over at you. You roll your eyes, gaze momentarily glaring down at the booklet. 

You grumble to yourself under your breath. “Don’t need the instructions, werewolves don’t need fucking instructions.”

Wanda can’t suppress the grin on her lips at your huffing and wolfish grumbling. The pups were in for a treat with you, she can tell already. 

“Do human babies actually like these… knick knacks?” you ask rather unsurely. You stand the changing station up and brush your hand along the mobile. The colourful, plastic bits clink and sway. 

“Yeah!” she answers with enthusiasm. You only raise your brows more with worry. You weren’t set on having those little things dangle in front of your pups, just begging to be grabbed and chewed to bits. But that was a worried conversation for another time, a knock on the door alerts you both of your arrived company. 

You call out for them to enter as you busy yourself with putting aside the table. Natasha all but swaggers on inside, a box in her hands as her eyes glance between you and Wanda. 

“Good evening, how did the shopping go?” 

Wanda giggles at your reaction before she uses her stirring spoon to point at the haul you both had garnered today on your big voyage to the great danger beyond: the public. Sam, Steve and Clint walk in after Natasha, each wearing a smile of their own.

“You ready to have a crack at parenthood, Wolf?” Clint jokes and you shrug. “As ready as I could ever be.” 

Wanda begins serving up dinner when her eyes squint, accusation on the tip of her tongue. “We’re missing one,” she drawls and Steve chuckles lightly under the scrutiny of the witch’s gaze. 

“Bucky had to cancel last minute, small mission briefing.” Steve’s explanation is supposedly good enough for your little witch to accept but you see the judgement in her eyes. You chuckled, the wolf in your eyes spelling mischief as you look at Wanda from across the way.

“So lucky. If only I had a mission briefing too.” 

Wanda flicks her fingers at you, the tips of her fingers glowing with her scarlet magic when a knife flies your way. You catch it with a surprised guffaw. “Sweetheart, I thought we would save the knife play for later.”

Wanda looks at you with a narrowed gaze but her smirk speaks volumes to you. She’s silently challenging you and all you do is raise your brows, your tongue in your cheek. 

Sam is clearing his third plate of the masterpiece dish he insists is of five star quality. You hum teasingly under your breath, “I dunno, I think she tried to poison mine.” 

The others share in the banter with small laughs and their own opinions of their dish, all of which praise Wanda’s skills around the kitchen. 

But what was all your teasing but a mere altered projection of your deep, underlying affection for Wanda? As you talk and catch up with your friends at the dinner table, your hand seeks out Wanda’s under the table. When you find hers, your fingers intertwined together. A simple and small action but for you, it held more affection than many things that could overly express one’s love. 

You weren’t the type to show up at the door with a giant bundle of roses and balloons, with music blasting the greatest love song hits of the century. You always prefer to keep it small. Private. Intimate. 

So after another hour or so, your friends call their leave. “And remember, Tony’s hosting that huge baby shower for you guys next week,” Natasha reminds over her shoulder. A shudder attacks your spine and you inwardly growl. Tony would of course play out the entire thing as an act of being the ‘fun and cool uncle’ but really, it was another dig for getting the car done up good on your mission. 

“He knows I hate his parties,” you mumble to her once you’re both alone. She’s in the kitchen finishing up the washing when you walk up behind her. It’d been a big day for you both. It feels good for it to just be the two of you know. 

Your arms circle around her waist and pull her in close, her back flush against your front you take the opportunity to bury your nose into her neck. She giggles loudly, cringing as she tries to wriggle away from you.

“What’s wrong?” you coo with a playful nip to the shell of her ear. “I’m ticklish there!” she squeals but you continue to feign knowledge.

“Oh? Are you now?”

“Yes!”

You laugh, cool, rich and deep. A husky drawl while you continue to nuzzle into her neck, inhaling her calming scent. Your hands balance on the rise of her swollen stomach, the kicks strong and prominent against the light pressure of your hands. 

“They know it’s you,” she cannot help but say with a smile. Something about your pups being able to recognise your touch makes her heart flutter and it makes something in you inflate. Pride. 

Your pups knew you by touch already. You just knew they were excited by the mere presence of your hands - of you - being so near. You smile. “Because they know I’ll protect them. Protect you.”

“You know… you never did mark me.”

You freeze for a moment, hesitant on how to answer her. What could you say to that? But Wanda turns around to face you and draws you into a deep, passionate kiss. Her lips capture yours and her tongue teases the line of your mouth. 

“I don’t care what reservations you have about this relationship, or that you plan on sleeping with other people. But please, I just want to feel some semblance of love, that I belong to you.”

You frown at this and immediately, your hands find the edges of her jaw to lift your tearful eyes to yours. “Wanda,” you sigh in disbelief, “take a look inside. What do you see?”

She gives you a look of scepticism and you huff deeply through your nose, a wolf behaviour to further urge her to comply. She does so, closing her eyes and taking a moment to read your thoughts. This is the first time you’ve given her permission to take a look inside your mind.

“You see anyone else?” She shakes her head in response. “That’s because there is nobody else. There’s only you.”

You sink to your knees so you’re at eye level with the baby bump. Wanda watches you, eyes wide and jaw slack. Whatever antics you were getting up to, she’s at a loss. When has she ever seen you become a mushy mess for anything? When Wanda looked at you, she never put affection as part of your resume. You and the factor of affection or anything to do with a loving relationship were just two opposite ends of the spectrum.

She didn’t believe you were ever capable of such adoration and devotion. “There’s never been anyone else. It’s always just been me. That’s how it used to be before… this.” Your nose pushes against her bump and you feel the pups kick again. 

You grin this time before your eyes lift up to see Wanda, her button lip jutted out in a pout. Her bright eyes coated with hot tears.

“Little witch, I’m not… I’m still very new to all this. But I’m telling you now that I want to have a go.” You pause and swallow thickly. “I don’t want it to just be me anymore. I want it to be us.”

“Then make it an us. That’s all I want.” 

You hear the plea in her whisper and you rise up to your full height, staring down at her. Your hands cradle her face in your hold, you simply take the moment to admire in her eyes what you once mistook for lust; that you now see as love. 

“It’ll hurt for a second,” you inform her as you slowly tilt her head so her neck is bared for you. “But I promise it’ll be for just a second.”

She nods and you take that as your go ahead. This is where the lone road ends for you. No more being alone. 

She closes her eyes with the growing anticipation and you bare your prolonged fangs, inching them closer to the sensitive skin of her neck, hovering over the spot you’d nuzzled just prior. Right where she was ticklish. 

With a final, deep breath you close the distance and plunge your canines and her body locks up, a yelp on her lips you tug her in closer to you. Your body is a silent assurance that she’s alright. That she and your pups will be alright. 

She feels it in her core, a whirlwind that sweeps her like a heavy storm. Like wind blowing in her face and drawing the air from her lungs. Right beneath the surface of her skin tingles and becomes ignited with that binding fire. When you pull away with a breathless exhale, your dazed eyes glowing, it takes you a moment of swaying to become stable again.

“Fuck,” you both groan softly, noses brushing together as your lips dance over one another, their connection ghostly but the radiance of your new connection a fiery and passionate spark to the touch. 

Wanda smiles and her flushed cheeks indicate her flustered embarrassment. You chuckle deeply and lift her chin up with your fingers so she meets your hungry, wolfish gaze. 

“You’re mine now.” Her hand finds purchase on her stomach, and yours falls over the top of hers. “And they are our pups.”

THANKS FOR READING!

✎ a note from the author, So this took a fucking while because I was very sick and then by the time I could write I had lost the ideas I had and the inspiration to write it. Anyway this is considered as part 2 to Wolf At Your Door but can be read as standalone I suppose. Also there is no smut for this one because I just couldn't see it being in this part.

on this issue's taglist, we've got: @alexawynters

[ahtae]

Sincerely, yours. (y.j)

warnings: stalker au, aggressive male, mention of slight bdsm, not much going on in this chapter tbh

~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~ ~~

A week ago, before your vacation to your parent's house, you left your apartment, with a fresh mind and a new lightness in your walk.

Someone had left a small letter in your door. It was square and sealed with a red heart stamp. At first, the letter confused you. Maybe they sent it to the wrong apartment number (it happens), or maybe it was a prank of some sort. The letter wasn't particularly addressed to anyone, as it was blank on the front, so you didn't feel particularly wrong to open it.

As you read the letter, you suddenly realized it was for you.

It read:

"Dear beauty,

Forgive me, I do not know what else to call you. You were in the coffee shop today, and I wanted to speak to you, to ask your name and tell you how just seeing you relived some of the stress from my life. I'm afraid I'm a bit too shy, and just continued my walk to my apartment instead, when I saw you again, in the elevator. So I'm leaving this letter in your door, as a promise to myself and you that I'll soon confess.

Sincerely, Yours."

You admitted to yourself then that yes, it was a bit stalker-esque, but the intentions were there, besides, you were leaving for your parents in a couple days, how bad could it get?

The three days leading up to your vacation only consisted of a singular letter. It was somewhat of an apology for how the first one sounded, as well as describing his physical appearance, since, to him, would level the playing ground a tad. He described himself as a "around six-foot Korean man, 25, with a dancer's build." You nodded at that. On paper, the man sounded delectable. But something about these letters left you a tad...unsettled. Like maybe you should take this into your own hands.

And so you wrote a reply.

"Dear Mine,

I am flattered by your letters. But I feel as though it may be better if you were to leave your apartment number as well. That way we're on equal playing field and it doesn't feel like the start to a bad stalking romance.

Sincerely, beauty."

You left the letter in your door, the same spot where he had left his, and rolled your suitcase out the door.

That was around a week ago.

Now, you are seated on your living room couch, brown leather sticking to your skin, staring at seven letters spread out on your glass coffeetable.

"Dear beauty,

What's the point of confessing if I don't get a little fun out of it —"

"Dear beauty,

I didn't see you today, miss your beautiful face. Are you hiding from me in there? Surely not—"

"Dear beauty,

Surely you aren't hiding from me, do you want me to come in there? Hm? Is that what you wish? For me to hunt you like our own little cat and mouse game?—"

"Dear beauty,

Don't make me open this door. Don't make me come get you myself.—"

"Dear beauty,

You'll never find anyone like me you ungrateful bitch. Fucking ANSWER ME—"

"Dear beauty,

Please. I was irrational and careless with my previous letters. Maybe we can talk this out? Let me see you again, please."

"Dear beauty,

Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please. Please.—"

In a pacing panic, you call the police. When they arrive you show them the letters, you tell them about your stalker. How creepy these letters are and surely they're enough for something to happen. Right? Wrong. The police tell you there's nothing they can really do without it truly being spelled out for them. Besides, they say, he doesn't seem all that bad.

You install another lock on your apartment door. As well as invest in a knob-stopper — anything to prevent something truly bad from happening.

As you walk down the hallway, digging your keys from your purse, you see a man, dressed in a white and black sweater, ripped black jeans, and a backpack hanging off his shoulders. You think nothing of it, probably just a college kid coming back from class or something.

But when you look up, keys in hand, you see him at your apartment door, opening his backpack and placing down a vase of red roses.

You entire body shutters, and you stop in your tracks.

You catch a slight smile pulling at his mouth as he backs away from the door. He looks up, and upon seeing you his entire face goes white — then bright red.

"You're usually out until 9..." he quirks his head. "Why are you back so early?" he asks, words rolling off his tongue.

When killers and stalkers are shown on TV, they're usually...to put it bluntly, ugly. But...he was...everything he said. Tall, lanky, and lean. He did however, leave out his shiny black hair and plush, plump lips. He was beautiful. Your stalker was beautiful. Magazine cover worthy.

"I— you...why—"

He chuckles, sliding his hands into his pockets. "I thought you were bolder in person?" He teases, dark brown eyes squinting. He takes a step forward. "Cat got your tongue?"

"Why me?" you blurt.

"What, Mousey?" he asks.

"There's a bunch of other women in this building," you say, "why did you choose me?"

He takes a step forward, leaving just a few feet between the two of you. "I didn't choose you, Mousey,” he stuff his hands in his pockets and sways. “You chose me. Something in you calls to me whether you know it or not," he explains, a smirk dancing on his lips.

He leans down, "Don't worry, I'll make sure you know how much you—"

"Go away.”

He blinks at you, "What?"

"Go away!" you shout, getting in his face. "I DON'T WANT YOU. YOU'RE CRAZ—"

He closes the gap between you two with the softest kiss to your lips. His lips were like clouds, leaving you weightless as he presses further and further into you.

You slap him.

Hand stinging, you look at the red print on his face, and feel your body turn cold. He looks down at you with the toothiest grin, a mix of anger and…intrigue?

You push past him, quickly unlocking your door and running into your apartment.

He slams into your door, just short of catching it before you locked it. His fists slam into the door, growing louder and louder until the beating stops.

You wait against your door, waiting for him to do something. Knock on your door, push it open, and invite himself in. He'd seem like the type, to just take what he wants. Your throat bobs at the idea, you underneath him, barely able to breathe as he pins you against the—

"Yeonjun," he whispers. “My name is Yeonjun.”

You go about the rest of your day trying to forget about what happened earlier. Doing mindless chores and watching television to distract yourself. None of it works. None of it gets your mind off the plushness of his lips.

Some part of you likes this. How obsessive he is, clinging on your every word and action like he cannot live without you.

Then you remember, the flowers he left at your door. You jump up, walking to your door and cupping the handle before stopping yourself. What if it has a camera in it? What if it has something in it? A drug of some sort and he's trying to—

Oh fuck it, you decide, opening your door and picking up the vase. There's a note amongst the flowers, because of course there is.

"Dear beauty,

welcome back, my love"

You slam the card on the counter, attempting to mask a shiver. You bite your lip, it's hard to be mad at someone so sweet. Even if it is a little psychotic.

God, why were you attracted to this?

~~~~

eh eh??? do a e like??

[do-androids-dream-ao3acc]

I Didn't Know How To Love You (Ch 1)

Based on the speculation post by @bybobbysbeard (sorry!), I cooked up my own speculations... in a fic (T-rated, approximately 4 chapters, including hurt/comfort and, of course, a helicopter crash).

AO3

Hen and Karen serve macaroni and cheese for dinner that night. It’s a simple dish, but it’s homemade and one of Buck’s favorites; mouth full of cheese bliss, he doesn’t skimp on praise. It is a nice way to end a day's work: a family meal, some fun with the kids who’ve by now retreated to their rooms, a chat with his friends. Finally, Karen clears the table, casually mentioning a cake, and Hen fixes Buck with her gaze. Buck hasn’t exactly been in the best mood lately, maybe he should’ve foreseen this conversation. It still comes unexpected.

“How are you, really?” Hen asks.

Maybe the last bite of food is still stuck in his throat, because the urge to swallow is overwhelming. Does she know he forces the corners of his mouth into a smile?

“Oh, you know. I’ve got it, right?”

Why does he phrase his answer as a question? Buck glances towards the kitchen, piercing the door with his gaze as if he could lure Karen out. It’s a setup of sorts, a trap, the Admiral Ackbar voice in his mind goes, but this time, it’s not funny.

Hen adjusts her glasses, though they actually fit perfectly, propping her arms on the table. 

“We never really talked about it, guess we all had other things on our minds. But we’re here for you, Buck. You know that, right?”

Buck exhales a kind of sigh, “Well, we’re good, I think. I was a little pissed about the things he said, but actually, we made up again.” 

“You… did?” Hen sounds somewhat confused, her gaze wanders back to the kitchen. Still no sign of Karen. 

“Yes. A-and he might come back, right? When he's sorted things out with Chris.”

It’s a faint hope. Chris didn’t seem to miss his life in L.A., so why should Eddie?

“Oh,” says Hen, with her voice and eyes oddly soft, “I'm not talking about Eddie.”

Buck furrows his brow, “You’re not?”

Hen takes a deep breath. Perhaps this is one of those conversations that require courage. A topic that has to be addressed at some point, even if it’s unpleasant. Buck has no idea how much.

“We never talked about Tommy. About… the break-up? I think we should’ve, Buck.”

The room is warm, cozy even, but cold creeps from his toes all the way up, draining all color from Buck’s face. Why now? It’s true, they’ve never really talked about Tommy. Everybody was somehow content with him, right? Eddie liked him, Bobby thought he was good for Buck, Hen and Karen scrutinized his motives. Everybody seemed convinced that he wouldn’t hurt Buck. Yet he did, and nobody ever mentioned it. So why now?

He must have said it out loud involuntarily. Hen leans back into her wife's hand, who has finally left the kitchen now and is standing behind her; she always leans on Karen when she’s pondering. Excellent timing, Buck thinks, as if she hadn't been eavesdropping the whole time. Because she knows when she has to be there, when she needs to give support. Tommy always knew that, too. 

“Because it's on your mind,” Karen remarks, placing the cake she was carefully balancing in her other hand on the table. Only the cake, no plates, no knife to cut it; just a pretext with lemon icing.

“Yeah,” Buck drawls, and somehow his voice could slice the pastry, “has been for four months.” Four months, thirteen days and twelve hours, but he doesn't say that. “In all that time, no one asked me how I was doing.”

“That's not true, Buck.”

“No kidding.” His hand crumples the napkin in front of him. “All I got were a few pats on the back.”

“We thought…”

“You thought it was my fault. That I'd screwed up again because I can't keep anyone. That Tommy was a trip to queer spaces for me, and maybe I’d just get over it.”

He’s talking nonsense now, he knows it, there’s no preventing the heat rising to his cheeks. But he’s still hurt, and now they’ve heard it. Hen and Karen exchange a look, then Hen says, ignoring his last words, “Look, anyone who doesn't realize what a great guy you are doesn't deserve you.”

“Well, you could have told me that. And besides... Tommy wasn't like that. He was great, and he always made me feel like... well, that I'm good too, you know?”

Buck’s voice is cracking now, not because his stress stuttering is setting in, but because of the pain that never really left him in the past months. Buck is no stranger to heartbreak, but he didn’t expect the initial shock to turn into a kind of dull resignation. 

Hen leans forward, reaching across the table for his hand. Her voice is full of compassion as she says, “What makes you think you're not?”

“C-cause he dumped me.”

Because that's the only conclusion, isn't it? He’s not been good enough. He’s not been able to live up to expectations, once again. 

“I'm sorry,” Hen says gently. “We should have talked to you a long time ago.”

“I warned him,” Karen grimly throws in. “I told him not to hurt you, and now look at you.”

Shooting her wife a glance, Hen shakes her head. 

“So, Tommy broke it off,” she says, “and I admit we never asked, and I’m sorry about that. But the why might be more important than you think, because you still haven’t gotten over it.”

“Is it that obvious?”

Hen and Karen exchange another glance before they allow themselves a soft giggle. It takes a lot of the tension lingering in their living room, and some of that inside of Buck. 

“That’s one of your cakes,” says Karen, pointing to the middle of the table. “Did you think I was suddenly fond of baking? Our freezer is full, as well as Bobby’s, from what I’ve heard. Maddie said she'd be glad if it was casseroles instead of pies, because then Chim and Jee would eat properly when she has the baby.”

Karen bites her lip, she looks as if she fears she's said too much, but Buck grins at the thought. The thought of Maddie's little family, of Jee soon being a big sister, is one of the things that still gets him out of bed every morning. Then he thinks about Hen's question, and he sighs.

“Why,” he slowly replies, “well. I'm not sure.”

“So how exactly did he break up with you? What did he say?”

Hen is clearly keen to get to the heart of the matter, forcing Buck to think about it again. Not that he hasn't done so constantly over the past four months. Well... actually, he hasn't. He's spent more than one weekend wallowing in self-pity, listening to sad love songs while running his finger over pictures of Tommy on his phone. Whenever he tried to understand what had actually happened, what Tommy had really said and why, guilt and grief would overwhelm him; at some point it was too much, and he started baking. Not just to avoid calling him, but to stop thinking altogether. Buck's mind is constantly doing somersaults, but when it gets stuck, he’ll spiral. He didn’t want that to happen, he needed to function, and he was tired of wondering why he was constantly being abandoned. That’s why he baked. Maybe a bit too excessively.

“You know about Abby, right?” he asks hesitantly.

Hen purses her lips, “Maddie... did mention something. That Abby used to date Tommy.”

“It was a bit more than that. But yes, back then, we found out together that Abby is a kind of common link for us.”

“Sounds like fate, when you think about it,” Karen interjects, and Buck lifts his head and smiles at her. 

“That's what I thought, too, after the initial shock.” 

“But... did he break up with you because of Abby?” Hen asks, a bit confused. 

“Maybe that was a reason, too,” says Buck, although he's not so sure about that. “Anyway, I... well, I asked him if we’d move in together.”

“Oh, Buck,” says Hen warmly, squeezing his hand. It's not “Oh, Buck, you idiot,” quite the opposite. Hen probably understands what that question meant to him back then. And maybe she also understands why Tommy leaving was so devastating afterwards. 

Buck stares at the table, thinking about how it would feel to disappear into the wood grain. It wouldn't be the first time that he had such thoughts. Buck loves life, no doubt about that, but the desire to disappear has always been there. Not necessarily to die, but to leave everything behind and start over. He’s done that a few times in his life, but always ended up back where he started. Like a hamster in its wheel, isn’t he?

“What happened then?” Hen interrupts his train of thought, and he casts her a grateful look.

Buck takes a deep breath; he actually didn't tell that part of the story yet, not even to Maddie. It seems so stupid now. Buck has finally had a brief but wonderful glimpse into a fulfilling relationship, something that all of his friends had – well, except for Eddie, but he’s not keen on thinking about Eddie right now. Somehow, it still never occurred Buck to ask them for advice, ask them how they overcame inevitable hurdles. Hen and Karen, Bobby and Athena, Maddie and Howie: they’ve had their issues, their fare share of life throwing spokes between their wheels. Again and again, they patched things up. Would it have made any difference if he’d tried? Confronting Tommy, letting him know that it was worth not giving up what they had? These are idle thoughts. 

“He said he was my first, not my last.”

“Huh?” Karen frowns, while Hen looks somewhat lost. “Wait, did he imply that you... because you came out as bi?”

Exasperated, Buck breathes one of his curls out of his forehead and replies, “Did I ever, really? H-he didn't directly say I’d need to try myself out or whatever. I’m not sure.” 

Karen raises a hand, “Wait, I don't quite follow. You are bi, right?”

Buck shrugs, “I guess? Does it matter?”

“It should,” Hen replies, frowning. “It’s not everyday that somebody suddenly changes their preferences in their 30s, Buck. That might be a huge deal, especially for you. Many of us always knew that we were... well, somehow different. Others have suppressed it, as probably has Tommy.” 

Hen's gaze is a bit wistful, and Buck can almost guess what she's thinking about. She knew Tommy long before him. Buck doesn't know if she was surprised when he finally came out, but she knows the man’s been putting on a probably exhausting façade for years. Perhaps the question is justified – does that also apply to Buck? Did he suppress something he always suspected, or did he just approach the whole matter too naively? 

“Maybe it's no wonder Tommy left since I know so little about myself,” he huffs, his fingers restlessly tracing the pattern on the tabletop. 

“Nonsense,” Hen replies unusually heatedly, causing her wife to raise a brow at her.  She raises her hands defensively, “I mean... why did you want to move in with Tommy, Buck?”

“Why be apart if we can be together,” he prompts, quoting himself from that night because the words are stuck in his mind since then. “I guess I was just feeling too comfortable. Too sure that this time it’s different.”

“But it was different,” Karen interjects, grinning at Hen. Then, suddenly slamming her palm on the table, she adds, “You were a topic at this very table, Buck. Many a night. He seems so happy, Karen, oh, and yeah, you said he was way more self-confident.”

“Buck’s always been self-confident. I believe I said he’s more self-aware.”

“I'm right here,” says Buck dryly. “A-and flattered, too.”

“Just don't get used to it.” Hen grins. “What I was trying to say... you wanted to be with him because you liked him. Because you were a good match. Maybe even too good. I think Tommy broke up with you because he was afraid.”

“What would Tommy have to be afraid of?” Buck protests. 

Even now he defends him. Tommy is the coolest guy he’s ever known, courageous and… Don’t think about him now. But how couldn’t he? He told everyone that Tommy’d dumped him, he never said “he left me” or “he broke up with me”. The sudden break-up, after half a year of not even once fighting, not even once being at odds, was like hitting a wall at full speed. He always says dumped because it felt exactly like that: he’d been carelessly discarded. Like rubbish, dirty and stained. But are his feelings Tommy’s fault?

“Buck,” Hen says urgently, reaching for his hand again, seeking his gaze as if he’d once again lost himself in his spiral of thoughts. “Don’t you see it? You have a lot in common. Tommy is afraid of being abandoned. Sometimes it's easier to just leave.”

That hits him like a bucket of ice-cold water. No, like a tsunami wave. Buck knows what it feels like to almost drown. If you actually drown, you don't stand a chance anymore, you just sink down. But when you still feel your lungs filling with water, when you can still wave your arms around, desperately fighting against the tide... that's much worse. Did he ever ask? Really ask? Tommy had only given him a glimpse of his past, but he’d already grasped that much when Josh tried to explain it – times were different, everything was more difficult. It’s one of those things you’ll never fully comprehend if you haven’t experienced it, true, but still. Buck thought that he’d understood. 

But had he? They’ve talked many a night, but… maybe it was just Buck talking, when he should have listened. What did he know about Tommy, then? Except that he had a difficult relationship with his father, that he almost married Abby and felt like a coward when he left her. But apart from that? Apart from the little things, trifles like how Tommy liked his coffee, his favorite character in Star Wars, what turned him on. He knew almost nothing about his past, some bits and pieces of his time under Gerrard, how he met Hen and Howie, these kind of stories. For a long time, that had been enough, because when they found each other, they’d both been busy exploring what made them tick.  Was it possible that Tommy – decorated hero, the man who knew a guy, Mr. Fake Mouth Static – was actually afraid?

Was it possible that he had felt so much for Buck, and not so little? Convincing himself that Tommy was tired of him had been easy. But what if Tommy had thought that Buck had grown tired of him? Why had they never talked about it? Buck felt anger well up inside of him, and only part of it was reserved for himself this time. He could have called. Instead of bubbling him, Tommy should have just sent that fucking message. Maybe that was kind of cowardly after all, while Buck had always thought he just wasn't worth it. But hadn't he also been cowardly? He had just baked instead of asking. Idiots, both of them, he can somehow read it in Hen’s and Karen’s faces. 

“Is that lemon cake?”

Hen and Karen turn around at the same time. Denny has this typical teenage frown on his face, as if to ask why are you eating this without me?

“Why aren't you in bed?”

Karen's stern motherly voice doesn't catch on, Denny rolls his eyes.

“I'm not a toddler. It's only half past nine.”

He's still staring at the cake, and Buck remarks, “Uh, it's actually lemon zest pie. And since I baked it, help yourself.”

“Leave some for Mara,” Hen calls after her son as he disappeared into the kitchen. 

“That's my cue,” Buck says, standing up. For a second, he clutches the table hoping Hen and Karen won’t notice, seized by a dizziness that has nothing to do with his blood pressure.  

“You sure?”

“I am. You two have given me a lot to think about.”

[Chapter 2]

[nostalgebraist]

I think your post about AI Doom doesn't really acknowledge the fact that, generally speaking, people enjoy being alive for its own sake and prefer it to being dead. Unless I'm misinterpreting, the conclusion of the post is essentially saying that not wanting people to be killed is "out of step with human values" which is obviously not true. Most people do not want to be killed. Killing people is bad. It would not be OK for AI to kill everyone even if it made something else afterwards.

(Pt 2) this all seems extremely obvious to me but I could not come up with an interpretation of that post which isn’t just broadly in favour of people being killed, which seems sort of like. The most evil thing anyone could ever possibly believe. So I am hoping that I misinterpreted

You're not alone, this aspect of yesterday's post was confusing to a lot of people.

FWIW I'm mostly tapped out on discussing the subject matter of that post for the moment, but this does deserves some kind of further explanation, so here goes.

----

First, to address something you didn't mention, but which was broadly confusing:

I am not saying: "when the doomers say AI will kill us all, they don't mean the natural reading of that phrase, they don't mean it will literally kill all the individual humans, they mean some weird other thing instead."

No, they really do just mean it will kill everyone. Sorry that wasn't clear.

----

What I did mean, when I talked about doomers vs. average Joe here, is that the idea of human extinction hits different if you're an anti-deathist transhumanist, versus if you aren't one.

If you're an anti-deathist, what's bad about extinction is, in part, the same thing that's bad about ordinary death. The anti-deathist looks around them and sees, in some sense, a slow-motion and staggered extinction already happening.

Even without extinction, we are all gonna die. Our great-great-great-great-great-grandparents' generation did not die out in an extinction event, but all the same, they are in fact extinct. Dead. 100% fatality rate, for those guys.

Sure, it was spread out over time, and "natural," but -- the anti-deathist argues, quite reasonably -- why should any of that matter to them, the dead ones? Those distinctions don't change any of what it is that's intuitively bad about dying in the first place.

The horror you express at "people being killed"? For the anti-deathist, that horror gets generalized to include the case of people being killed "by death," as it were. By just, dying, of old age or whatever, rather than by the hand of some other creature.

----

Now sure, even for the anti-deathist, there are important ways that extinction is worse than business as usual. Most obviously, extinction not only stops all the lives of people around now, but prevents the lives of any future people from getting created later on. (Plus of course, all else being equal, death sooner is worse than death later.)

If you're not an anti-deathist, though -- and most people aren't -- these special factors that make extinction worse (for the anti-deathist) are in fact your only objections to extinction.

That is not to say that they aren't extremely strong objections. Of course normal people do not want human extinction!

But for the normal person, there is this hard line between "extinction" and "business as usual." For such a person, there is a horror in the former that just isn't there in the latter, even though (as the anti-deathist likes to point out) business as usual still means a 100% fatality rate, on a long enough timeline.

For the anti-deathist, there is not this hard line. Extinction is bad. Getting killed by a person or a machine is bad. Dying of natural causes is bad. And a lot of the badness -- though by no means all of it -- comes from what is shared across all these cases, not what is special to each case alone.

----

OK, now let's talk more directly about your question.

Unless I'm misinterpreting, the conclusion of the post is essentially saying that not wanting people to be killed is "out of step with human values" which is obviously not true.

I mean, yeah, that's obviously not true.

But there are things sort of superficially similar to it that might be true.

And when something is true, but on the surface sounds bizarre and backwards and staggeringly wrong, I often like to play around with the way it sounds -- to just have a bit of fun with the way I can say things that seem so outrageous, and yet might not actually be wrong. Or even really outrageous, when properly understood.

And maybe I get carried with this, sometimes, at the expense of clarity. Sorry about that. (But also, it's my blog, where I write the kind of stuff I like writing. And I do like writing in this way. Them's the breaks.)

Anyway.

If we want to understand ordinary human values, then we need to cope with the "average Joe's" simultaneous belief in the following two things:

I really do not want to die. As a particular case, I really really do not want to die right now, today. But also, come to think of it, dying tomorrow would be super bad too. And you know what, the day after tomorrow? Same deal. And I guess I could go on like this.

I do not, at all, actively want to "live forever." In fact I kind of don't want this. If you directly ask me, I'll say the idea is sort of creepy and weird and bad. Or, even if I don't think that, I don't find the idea motivating at all. It might be acceptable, if it were forced on me, but none of my actions are driven by a desire to make it more likely.

(I am hand-waving away the concept of the afterlife here, which is involved in the typical Joe's actual beliefs in a way that annoyingly complicates the analysis while being tangential to my point. Let's say we're talking about the average atheist/agnostic but non-transhumanist Joe. I think the point can be generalized further, but I'm trying and failing to be brief here, so you'll just have to trust me.)

Now, together, these two beliefs are nearly a paradox.

Maybe they are just a paradox. Maybe you can't, really, think both of these at the same time without, on some level, kidding yourself. This is what the anti-deathist alleges, about the average Joe.

Maybe you agree. If so: congratulations, you're an anti-deathist too. Which is a perfectly valid point of view. Despite all I said in my post, I have quite a lot of sympathy for it, myself.

But the average Joe is really not an anti-deathist. This is just a fact about the world. Average Joe really does think both of the 2 things, at once. Maybe he does so inconsistently, or wrongly. Still, he does.

I think you essentially have two choices here. You can take the road less traveled, fully bite the "death is bad" bullet, and be an anti-deathist. Or, you can do what most do, and be like average Joe.

But if you are doing what average Joe does, and you go on to say things like...

being in favour of people being killed [is the] most evil thing anyone could ever possibly believe

...then you have some explaining to do. You have to spell out what it is this means, if it doesn't just mean full anti-deathism. Which is kinda what it sounds like.

A lot of things "kinda sound like" full anti-deathism. That view is very amenable to being phrased in terms that make it sound utterly obvious.

But we can't let this lull us into thinking that -- because anti-deathism sounds obvious, and average Joe often believes things that sound obvious -- that average Joe believes in anti-deathism. Somehow, despite all that obviousness, he just doesn't.

Somehow, despite all that obviousness, anti-deathism is a fringe position. And if we're not on the fringe, then we have to spell out just what it is that we believe instead.

Now OK, let's be real. You didn't say "being in favour of death" was the evil thing. What you wrote was "people being killed," not "people dying."

And that's what makes the distinction to you, right? I imagine? That it's bad news when some entity actively kills a person, that goes beyond the badness of death per se?

----

That does sound pretty intuitive! But what exactly is it that makes killing worse, here?

I didn't answer that question, in my post. I answered a bunch of other questions, instead. There are still more questions, which no one has asked me, but which I kind of feel I ought to answer, when talking about this topic. Nonetheless, I have to stop myself at some point, or I'll never do anything else. Hence these kinds of glaring lacunae.

I won't answer it here, either, in full. I have some other things to do today, and this is no longer just explicating what I meant earlier, this is new stuff. I'll just make some gestures, now, towards the kind of answer that would make sense of how I treated the topic in my earlier post.

----

So, there are some pretty obvious answers to "why is killing especially bad?"

Say, that it reflects poorly on the killer: an AI that would kill us all is probably an AI that's just plain bad morally.

Or, that we have a norm against it. It's a part of our ethics, the stuff we agree on as part of the social contract.

But you know what we don't have a norm against? If we're average Joe, and not on the fringe?

Killing chickens.

Or torturing chickens, and then killing them. Or breeding lots of them, specifically to be tortured, and then killed.

Sorry for the sudden swerve into vegan talking points! But this is kind of a big deal.

I've heard this cited, multiple times, by doomer types as a motivating case for being worried about how superintelligent AIs might treat us.

Just look at how we treat creatures that can very evidently feel pain -- but just happen to be different from us, not constituted the way we are, and in particular much less smart than we are!

And I, personally, find this argument pretty motivating. This is one of those arguments where even I have to hand it to the doomers.

But once we've allowed this much, we are in danger of conceding some really wild shit, if we don't tread carefully. Maybe we even should concede the wild shit, in the last analysis. Still, we should tread carefully.

Say you take the chicken argument seriously.

You've conceded that human values contain some really fucked-up things about how to treat other, dumber, "more primitive" beings. Beings of the kind that prevailed before the new, "super"-intelligent, sparkly, world-dominating species stepped onto the scene and changed everything.

You've conceded that humans are basically misaligned AIs, of the evil killeveryone Torment Nexus sort.

Remember, that was the whole substance of the argument: to make such awful AIs seem more plausible, by pointing out that such a thing already exists. Namely, us.

But now, what standing do we have to object to the AIs, without it rebounding back on us? Must we oppose ourselves just as fervently as we oppose the evil AIs, for the same reason?

"An AI that kills all humans" sounds pretty bad. Sounds like an evil thing, that we would not want to exist. But by the same token, we're evil, and we shouldn't exist.

(We might have wiped out chickens, if they weren't so tasty. There are plenty of non-tasty things which we did, in fact, wipe out. I and the doomers focus on chickens and the like, here, because what we did them is arguably even worse.)

Would we really accept an AI that's only "aligned with human values," and treats us about as well as we treat other beings when we are placed in an analogous scenario? Or do we hold AI to a higher standard -- one we can't possibly apply to ourselves, for that way lies madness?

Well, I don't know. These are tough questions.

But I would like to leave open some room to imagine, at least, that the advent of humanity was not (or not only) a catastrophe. That it was not, in fact, "the most evil thing possible."

Despite all the evil that we do, I'd like to imagine that.

And I'd like to imagine that, if there is such a thing as "human values," it contains this affirmation of the value of the advent of humanity.

And the value of things like the advent of humanity.

And the golden rule, and the rule of law. Which means, among other things: not holding you to a higher standard than I hold myself.

Even though the apparent implications of this are pretty nasty.

Philosophy is like that. Often you are between a rock and a hard place. Saying "that's a rock, don't you know that rocks cannot be walked through??" in an alarmed tone does not really get at the heart of the dilemma, or point the way to a solution.

----

All else being equal, of course, I would prefer not to be killed.

So would the chickens, I imagine.

We must not pretend there are easy answers, when there aren't.

[creedslove]

OMG BESTIE YOU WON'T BELIEVE IT.

i had this dream where me, Joel and Ellie were in Jackson and him and I were together after years of surviving and then (I still don't know how) I switched to the no-outbreak time where Sarah is alive and Joel is in his 40's. We didn't knew each other and I accidently bumped into him while walking with my daughter Ellie (at that point I'm in tears) and we look at each other and I have this deja vu and he seems to have it too! We don't say anything, just smile at each other and then I wake up. (I hope it makes sense 😭)

I wish Joel was real. (especially with his silver hair and southern accent that makes my knees buckle)

No outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

A/N: omg bestie you got me screaming and crying and throwing up honestly! This dream is amazing and it sort of reminds me of X-Men Days of Future Past in which Wolverine needs to go back in time to save the mutants and prevent the extinction of mutants and humans! I like this idea so I turned into a headcanon adapting to the no mutation tlou reality hehehehe

• Joel thought the dreams he was having were beyond explanation at how weird they really were; every single night he would wake up in cold sweat, panting and wondering what the hell was going on with him

• his dream was always the same: he would dream about a world that had ended and for some reason he had survived, where monstrous creatures that seemed a mix of humans and some kind of fungus had wiped most of civilization and the world as he knew; in the dream Joel was a low life, a depressed, lonely and hard guy who had lost the will of living right after his daughter got killed and that was enough for Joel to snap wake and immediately tiptoe to her bedroom, just to watch her sleep and make sure she was alright and her bedroom was still pink and full of butterflies and not some ruin of what things used to be

• it puzzled Joel, because he had no idea where that was coming from; he wasn't one to watch zombie or horror stuff, reading books was definitely not his cup of tea and he seriously couldn't understand why kids like Sarah obsessed over watching TikToks, so he thought he didn't actually have the creativity for that

• maybe he'd eaten one of Tommy's suspicious brownies by accident?! It could be a possibility, but his brother was extra careful with these since Sarah was around

• still, it didn't matter the reason why Joel had those disturbing dreams, but the frequency they were happening, and not only that: he very often saw people he knew from his everyday life in the dream as well

• such as his former girlfriend Tess, his brother Tommy and his girl Maria, he recalls seeing those two kids who lived down the street from him... Henry and Sam, he recognized them from Sarah's school, the older brother making ends meet and always having to attend parent - teacher conferences and the little one being the gifted student his daughter told him about

• even that nut job from the other block, Kathleen showed up every once in a while, Bill and Frank, and several other friends and acquaintances Joel had met through his life and the city

• but from all the crazy shit his, what baffled him the most was that you and your daughter Ellie featured in his dream as well; he knew Ellie was a firecracker from all the school meetings he'd attended, which honestly amused him. He thought she was pretty strong and smart and it always made him chuckle when she put a boy back into his place

• but it was so confusing to him that he almost had a fatherly bond with her, at the same time he had a relationship with you. Joel had always found you attractive and he very often kept in the back of his mind his desire of asking you out, but he never went through it, and yet, in his apocalyptic dreams you were going strong, it was just odd

• Joel kept thinking of those dreams for a few days, he even considered seeing a shrink after Sarah told him he should do it, but being a stubborn Miller the way he was, he just shrugged it off and eventually, his sleep went back to normal and he got too caught up with work to pay attention to things like that

• it was only one weekend where he was taking a walk around the neighborhood with Sarah, he ended up running into you, smiling and waving gently, he felt his heart skip a beat, thinking of your apocalyptic romance and thinking of how crazy it would be to miss something he never really had

• when you saw your neighbor Joel waving and smiling from across the street, you immediately reciprocate, he was handsome and you would be lying if you said you didn't have the slightest crush on him, but he would think you were crazy if he ever found out you had the craziest dream about him, in which you both had to survive in an apocalyptic world while being a couple 🥴

____

[marbles-for-breakfast]

Thoughts/Arguments about Endogenic systems:

(for context, I’m probably best described as “quoigenic”, but I don’t really identify with any origin label because I think they ultimately cause more confusion than clarity)

Firstly, for those who don’t know, the term endogenic is about the narrative of your own existence. It was created by a diagnosed DID system which believes they were born plural and would have been plural regardless of the trauma they experienced. Whether you personally believe that to be true is your business, but I fail to understand how people think that idea is harmful, ableist or anything else. Not everybody wants to conceive of the origin of their existence in the same way. I don’t see anything wrong with that. Trying to force people to adopt a certain narrative about their own life doesn’t help anyone or prevent any sort of harm.

As far as willogenic systems go (because they’re under the endo umbrella, I’m pretty sure), I really don’t know enough about them to have a super definitive opinion. People seem to have mostly positive experiences with it, and it sure doesn’t affect me whether somebody I don’t know tries to make headmates through things like meditation. It’s obviously something quite different than DID, but I imagine it could work similarly in some ways, so I don’t really mind them using terms like ‘system’. I do understand the aversion to willogenics to some extent, though. I feel that sometimes too. And ultimately I think that’s because they get to make a choice that I wasn’t given. And they get to skip syscovery, and probably a lot of dissociation on top of that. It’s tempting to resent them, to assume they see it as a fun or frivolous thing, and are totally ignorant of our problems and suffering. But I don’t think that’s true.

They know what DID is. They know it’s usually caused by trauma, and often serious abuse. They know it is a serious disorder that can make life very difficult. They also know that they created headmates through meditation or something, and now they’re a system. Why should that upset us? Why do we think we own plurality just because we suffered more on the road here? Maybe you think they’re wrong about having headmates, but…. how would we know? Just because an experience isn’t accepted or understood by the field of psychology doesn’t mean it’s not happening. And I make a point to believe people about their own minds.

Just because they don’t have DID and have very different experiences to people with DID doesn’t mean they can’t acknowledge that those experiences do have some similarities. And it certainly doesn’t mean they can’t find community with OSDDID systems who want to normalize plurality itself in order to make life easier for all systems. It may seem “weird” to us, we might not understand it, but that doesn’t mean we should deny just because we originally learned that DID (and therefore plurality) can only form through extreme trauma. Aren’t a lot of the things we originally learned about DID wrong? Aren’t a lot of the things we assumed about it wrong? We, as a species, have never understood the human brain. Even doctors and educators make assumptions about what’s impossible without looking into it enough to prove that.

But when tons of people tell you they created headmates on purpose, and you don’t really have a reason to think they’re wrong other than “I don’t think that’s possible”, maybe it’s time to switch to, “idk how that works, but you do you”. It’s time to acknowledge that someone living their life in a way that you wouldn’t choose for yourself is actually completely fine. I mean, as long as they’re not hurting anybody obviously, but willogenics are not hurting anybody by being openly willogenic.

So yeah, endogenic systems are not inherently a threat to you or anyone else.

This post sums up my thoughts pretty well, so I might just refer people to it in the future. If you’re here from that, thanks for hearing what I have to say. I hope it helps you refine your worldview in some way. You don’t have to agree with everything I said here. I just hope you at least interact with people with more good faith (believing what they say until they give you a reason not to).

[mulders-too-large-shirt]

s7 episode 4 "millennium" thoughts

hehehehhe. hehe. i have seen The gif from this episode. i am so excited to learn its context!!!

wow... everyone say thank you very much to mulder and scully for preventing y2k ❤️

i have heard much about the concepts behind the proposed y2k collapse, and they have never entirely made perfect sense to me, but i suppose you had to be there. and i was not. 

from reading the episode description, it seems that in this universe, the year 2000 turned people into zombies? hmm. much to ponder there.

the first two episodes of this season were eh, then the third was good but lacked mulder and scully, so i’m curious to see what this one brings, because i have heard a lot of s7 praise. so let’s see what it’s about!!

post-episode thoughts: rejoice!! a banger ep!!! it had zombies!! injured mulder!! scully with cool scars!! skinner worrying about his best agents!! mulder saying creepy stuff!! scully smiling!! and being a math geek!! and the thing that you know i am referring to vaguely!! a good episode, indeed! one that will be important to me, i can tell!

we open on a funeral in florida. i can’t tell if the dialogue is really quiet or if my laptop is malfunctioning. seems to just be quiet- thank goodness.

it doesn’t seem that mr. johnson here has ever met mrs. crouch, but he showed up at mr. crouch's funeral. he says he worked briefly with him. which doesn’t clear up much. and he leaves. so she is alone with the casket. 

oh, some other guy named raymond is here. he says he is at peace. and also it’s christmas, btw. 

why is mr. johnson lurking!!!! in this funeral home!!! he lifts up the lid to the casket and bro inside looks super dead. hey, i don’t like how mr. johnson is quoting the bible while stripping over a dead body. noooo, don’t take the dead guy’s clothes off too.

THE BONES CRACK??? what is he DOING?? STOP CRACKING HIM??? why is he calling someone on the phone………… and then he closes the casket. okay. didn’t like that. dead mr. crouch was really gray. more so than i feel he should be.

so mr. johnson stole the dead guy’s pin and now is watching, 4 days later, at the graveyard. he gets a call… is it the dead guy?? with the phone he gave him?? so he walks out with a shovel!!!!

omfg…. did they coordinate this pre-death… kinda badass, in a way. but also fucked up. because his wife was so sad!!!

intro was very short today!!! damn!! i nearly got whiplash!!

it’s december 30th, and scully is here. if she is in florida, i wonder why she is wearing a jacket. but she’s committed to the look above all else, i suppose. and she lifts the caution tape up herself. for shame! mulder, this is your sacred duty!

pretty scully…….

oh no, raymond the funeral home guy is trying to assure her that he did NOT bury a living man, as the rumors suggest!! also, dead mr. crouch was FBI, it seems? scully is confused LMAO. BAHAHAHAAA, WHAT WAS THAT FACE SHE MADE!! I’M CRYINGGGGG

(scully shouts into the hole) “mulder, have you been spreading rumors?” (mulder pops into frame at the bottom of the hole) “why? you hear any good ones lately?” LMAOOOO 

BAHAHA “not particularly” yeah. allegedly being buried alive does NOT impress her.

AWWW, he wishes her merry christmas, by the way. and she says thank you! and wishes him one as well. bet nothing can top last year, though.

oooo, it looks like someone was trapped in there, trying to get out, and the fingerprints on the casket match those of the dead man! mulder confirms that he is NOT the source of the rumors, but rather, they are coming from the police department. AND the fingerprints are on the headstone!! they're neon. is that an FBI tool used to highlight evidence, or did mr. crouch have nasty neon stuff on his hands when he returned from the dead...?

scully thinks the evidence was faked- she's not sure why, though. but they see what looks like a trail of blood on the grass nearby!!! ewww.

mr. johnson is somewhere else, quoting the bible again. uhhhh. some sort of zombie figure is rising up behind him as he drives into georgia.

hmm. back to the bureau.

agent crouch served for 21 years, retired, and was recently found dead. JESUS, that photo of his dead body was NASTY. y’all did NOT have to show all that... the fuck?!?!?!

skinner is here. and so are some other rando agents. mulder doesn’t think it’s a grave robbery- it was necromancy. the other agents seem uncomfy with this. spooooooky.

he claims the blood they found in the grass was from a goat, and it was used to draw a magic circle- but the rain washed most of it away. “the blood attracts the spirits of the undead, while the circle focuses the necromancer’s power while protecting him from the spirits that he’s conjuring” <- are y’all writing that down? ✍️ 

this rando dude’s faaaaaace.... he cannot believe what he is hearing 

ah, scully, (mostly) so even-keeled: “obviously, there are clear ritualistic elements to this crime. the question is: why were they directed at raymond crouch?” <- the perfect response!

ohhhh, skinner pulls them aside…. are they in trouble?!

“what if it looked something like this?” he shows them a picture of an ouroboros!!! so they are not in trouble, then!!! he must need them for a special task.

“the alchemists favored it”, mulder declares. sigh. i need that man.

but not as bad as i need scully in a turtleneck. fuuuuck.

skinner says it was the logo for the millennium group- who were former FBI agents who offered consulting services to law enforcement. hmm. that feels like it shouldn't be allowed.

but somehow, they got a bad reputation. maybe they were a cult. which of course, mulder has heard the rumors about!

the group dissolved a couple months ago- a likely time for them to go underground if they were based on the end of the millennium, no? skinner reveals he has info on 3 other grave desecrations!!!! all with former FBI agents!!! and all were recent suicides!! 

this is very SENSITIVE due to their ties to the bureau, so don’t be mean to him, mulder! he tasks them with investigating and keeping a low profile. mulder says he knows where to start.

they go to a psychiatric hospital in virgina. always a good place to begin. they’re here to see a criminal profiler that worked in the department before mulder did- allegedly the greatest they’ve ever produced! he checked himself in for a 30 day stay, but mulder says he used to consult for the millennium group. and later fought to bring them down. HMM… why do i feel like he’s gonna be dead when they get there?

mulder saying good morning to the guy muttering in the hallway…. he is a kind guy sometimes 💗

“single-minded. sounds like someone i know”, scully says <- don’t flirt in the mental hospital, y’all

they meet a guy named frank black, who to me looks like the undertaker from earlier, but maybe a lot of white men look the same in a way. he’s watching football. he does not seem to give a fuck. 

mulder knows his sports teams, though. trust that.

frank says he recognizes the pictures of the men they show him and then does not elaborate. i respect that. he doesn’t wanna chat. but scully must try and get more info, as this is her job.

frank does not want to help- he wants to put his life back together. he says no thank you. but they only have 2 days before the new year and more potential killings!!

“it’s first and ten. just let me watch this game in peace” “it’s THIRD and TEN. notre dame” “happy new year” “same to you” <- is he… saying something in football code?? mulder storms off and scully follows. he was MAD. said something about him being "not what i'd hoped", oooo boy, that's nasty work. frank pissed him off!

in maryland, mr. johnson is pulled over on the side of the road, fixing a flat. a cop stops him. but smells something very gross. and he sees flies…. what’s in the truck? oh, the cop knows something is up. and he starts chanting the same prayer. 

bleh. dead guy reveal! ahhh!! he keeps saying his words and the zombie bites the cop!!! and he was standing in a circle!!! to focus his power, i guess. 

mulder ponders this upon arriving at the crime scene. he found the salt circle. salt, not blood! scully points out this noticeable difference. mulder says it was to protect himself against “whatever it was that did that” (pan over to a lot of blood on the ground) hmm. gross!

a cop flags them over. run, agents! in your billowing coats!!! gag!!! they found a body!! with bite marks!!! 

EWWW... they pull something out of his mouth and the way the lips moved was NASTY. it is a paper with a bible verse written on it, and one of the cops knows exactly which one it is. “book of revelation, chapter one, verse 18” “go fighting irish” <- SO FRANK WAS SPEAKING IN FOOTBALL CODE!!! but to what end?!

they go back to visit frank, who is sipping his milk. “what are you afraid of?” 

HA! scully figures it out- she is so good at figuring things out. he’s in a custody battle and doesn’t want to lose rights to his daughter. they claimed he was an unfit father for being obsessed with conspiracy. he says they were right. so he will do anything they ask, but never mention the millennium group again.

i get his point, but also, they do need him to help out because people are dying, not for some frivolous reason, so maybe if he could make ONE exception, that could be cool.

mulder has gotten him to crack with a promise of secrecy. revelations, heaven and hell, a battle. the four deaths were those who believed, unlike the others in the millennium group, that man must take an active role in bringing about the end times. oooo, the four horsemen…. “it must begin with the dawn of the millennium” or not at all. 

scully seems to be pondering this, in her catholic way.

he proposes that the necromancer is NOT from the millennium group- they hired him. he thinks he’s doing god’s work. hmm. didn’t know you could place an ad in the paper and find one that easily. he seems to be just some guy.

but frank begins to profile him. he talks of a man leading a solitary existence, working with death- and we see mr. johnson working with taxidermy! he did what he could to prevent the deputy from coming back to life. and he’ll return the body. 

they plan to go to the morgue- and mulder says they must track down the not-dead bodies first before locating a murderer. BAHAHA, tell him, scully, about these cultists mangling biblical prophecies. “and besides, 2001 is actually the start of the new millennium” <-NERD! nerd. said while blushing.

LMAOOOOO “nobody likes a math geek, scully” but you do. fucker. him saying that with a smile.... he's down bad

they’re going to split up: scully to the morgue, mulder to find the necromancer. 

and he asks for a favor: PLEASE do not let anyone take out the staples from the deputy’s mouth. “please? just humor me?” <- i like that tactic- saying "please" and asking for her to humor him instead of diving into long explanations of zombie lore. they're in a rush, after all!

BLEAUGHHH, SOMEONE IS TAKING THEM OUT ALREADY. ohhh, it's someone who isn't scully doing an autopsy- this feels very strange. BLEUGH, she opens his mouth, and it is filled with SALT.

scully calls. as the person doing the autopsy removes the salt. noooooooo. please listen to my friend scully! who calls AGAIN. she goes to listen to the message, asking her to please not autopsy the murder victim. BUT IT’S TOO LATE. THE ZOMBIE GOT HER!!!!!!

scully rolls up, drawing her gun as she finds the dead bodies, and the phone ringing off the hook, surrounded by blood. the woman who was doing the autopsy is still alive!!! but the necromancer is here!! as is the undead guy!! and shooting at him in the chest doesn’t prevent him from grabbing scully!!!

unhand her at once, you scoundrel!!!

the woman doing the autopsy is brought into the hospital, which is good. but where is scully?? 

skinner is here looking for her!!! he looks at a dead body… but it’s not her!!! she’s alive, but with scratches on her neck.

omfg..... skinner moved her hair to look at them…. something very intimate about that. he asks how she’s feeling. 

the dead body is the sheriff’s deputy! “he was dead, and then somehow he wasn’t”

i am distracted by the neck scars. sorry. she looks cool as fuck.

and of COURSE she shot the three rounds right into his chest. she knows no other way than perfect aim! but it had no effect.

god. she’s so pretty. sighs wistfully.

the necromancer shot the deputy in the head and saved her!!! but why?? he got away. and did not explain his actions.

skinner wants to talk to mulder… but he isn’t picking up his phone!!! 

he’s busy. got his sunglasses on. checking every single landowner in the area. and he has no service. but he seems to have found the guy! yeah, you also look cool as fuck in your shades, mulder, but not as cool as dramatic neck scar scully. 

he’s going through this guy necromancer mr. johnson's trash…. finds a ton of salt!!!! and puts some in his pockets. hope it’s enough to protect him from evil in the case of emergency.

bro crawls up the fence. okay, spider money!!

mr. johnson is coming home, though!!!

mulder gets inside his house, finding lots and lots of taxidermy. but mr. johnson pulls in, and sees mulder’s car!!!

mulder is breaking into a cellar of some sort. BLEUGH!!! a hand reaches up for him!!! many hands!!!! the zombies are trying to eat him!!! and then mr. johnson shuts the door!!!

he fires a ton of shots!!! but we know they are kind of immune to those unless they hit the head!!! 

scully goes to frank, asking if mulder has stopped by. she needs his help!! she is not going to take no for an answer. she asks if he thinks they can bring about the end times…. “but what if it were true? good and evil… which would prevail?” <- FUCK! scully ruminating on the nature of the universe and the role of god... i will eat it up every time. he still doesn’t want to help. 

oh…. he checks himself out…. maybe he will?

BRO!! THEY HAVE ALMOST EATEN MULDER’S ARM!!! he is trapped in that basement!!! 

frank goes to see the necromancer mr. johnson!!! and necromancer says thank god, we’d almost given up on you.

so frank was either wrong or lying in his profile- this guy was a member of the group, not just someone hired. that is how it seems to me, anyway, because why else would mr. johnson know him? or maybe they hired him before frank left? idk. hard to say. anyway, he says there’s someone in the basement- he’s killed one of the members. yeahhhh, that’s my mulder!!!

“but you’re here. now we’ll have four” LEAVE FRANK ALONE????

they step inside. “you were meant to be the fourth; i’d always known that” <- so that must be why he shot the zombie attacking scully- so frank could be the last horseman. but ohhh, franks’s confessing he sent mulder here!!! frank says he can’t walk the straight and narrow now that he knows they’ve succeeded. hey, what does that mean….? is he telling the truth? will he go along with their apocalyptic schemes?

necromancer mr. johnson says they took frank's daughter from him and murdered his wife over this?! is that true? seems like wild information to reveal in the third act.

and he pulls out a gun… saying there will be justice in the next world. frank says he’s ready. the necromancer starts changing. but frank gets him first!!! 

skinner calls scully. he has news: all four victims received calls from the same number frank had while at the hospital! trace that phone, she demands!

frank is tying up the necromancer, who is begging him not to do this- there is no future in this world, he says; only uncertainty and pain.

frank opens the door to find mulder… no response…. is he okay?!? yes! mulder says he’s down here, and the zombies are all around. frank tosses a flare. they’re hiding from him. he shoots one in the head!!! a frank W!! only two more!! and scully is on the way!!! 

following a map as she drives!!! tracing the route with her finger! that is my beloved!!

bleh!!! mulder had to tie his own arm tourniquet with his tie. a resourceful fellow. but frank gets jumped by a zombie!!! hurry, scully!!! 

she picks the lock instead of climbing the fence, which i think is a fun difference between her and mulder.

aha! mulder gets up and shoots one of the other zombies in the head!! or at least close to the head!! but the last one comes!! and he has no bullets!

YEAHHH, SCULLY GETS THEIR ASS!! and it seems like frank is bleeding from the head but otherwise okay???

the ball….. for new years… soon it shall drop. frank is watching in a hospital waiting room. scully comes to see him!! necromancer mr. johnson has been taken for a psych evaluation!!

scully says someone is here to see him. AWWW, it's his daughter :,) scully smiling as they hug…. someone shoot me.

OH… mulder comes out just then and smiles at them, too… stop. STOP. I’LL SCREAM. his arm is all wrapped up. frank heads out with the girl.

the ball… it drops. it’s 2000!!!! big things happening!!! he looks at her…. THEY KISSSSSSS and smile. “the world didn’t end” “no, it didn’t” OH MY GODDDDD

and they walk out, with his functional arm around her shoulder.

fuck. i gotta watch that again. 

he moved first… he was watching her… and then they both smile…

“the world didn’t end” being more about them actually making a move than it is about the potential threat of y2k. oh, fuck me.

AND SHE LOOKS AWAY as he wraps his arm around her. and he pushes the door ahead of her with his one working arm.

FUCK.

yeah. i had seen the gifs. but it is even better in person. RAAAAH.

and i know their dumbasses will NOT talk about it-

because that’s just what friends do, right? friends sometimes kiss each other on new year’s. and smile at cute children being reunited with their parents. absolutely. entirely platonic. it’s been known to happen 

(- that is my impression of what they were both thinking when they finally got to bed that night and couldn’t fall asleep)

ahhhh….. a kiss. that actually happened! in this universe!!!

so funny that they were going to kiss in FTF, but a bee got in the way, so we had to have a whole season of angst before that could happen. and as much as i would love to think that they’re both going to have an "oh shit, wait, i really liked that, did they like it too? i knew i would, i imagined it for a long time, but shit, shit, shit, it was better than i thought…" type moment, i KNOW they won’t talk about it. LMAO.

unless they prove me wrong!! i would love to be proved wrong!! i invite them to prove me wrong!!

aww. kiss aside, this was a pretty good episode. zombies!!! rawr!!! growl!!! scully gets cool neck scratches!! and saves the day with her sharpshooting!! skinner gives them a top secret task and then worries about his agents!! frank had an emotional arc that was compelling even though we just met the guy!! which is hard to do!! mulder got to say creepy things and climb a fence and use salt magic to keep himself safe!!! and he wanted to kiss her so bad and he did!! and the world didn’t end!!! 

oh…. i would love to read the fic on their internal musings as to what happens next. what they say when they see each other next? meeting in the office. still sleepy. still in pain. still riding that high. blushing. waiting to see who will address it. and neither of them brave enough to do so. 

RAAAAH. YEAHHHHHHH!!!! I LOVE BEING ALIVE IT!!! HAS THESE FICTIONAL LOSERS FOR ME TO THINK ABOUT!!!!

mmm. i shall sleep contentedly this evening.

LMAO, WHAT?? i scrolled down to see what the next episodes said and i saw something about getting trapped in a sexy video game?? HELLO??? WHO WROTE THIS SHIT?? 

and also??? did i see donnie? from irresistible??? are they going to revisit him?? that episode is SO important to scully’s character- i really hope they do it justice. i would have preferred if they didn’t bring pusher back; i felt like his original episode was better. and there is a cops episode??? and scully with a former lover??? people like that episode- 17, right?? and they revisit their very first case in the finale?? but i was told that if i want to stop, i should stop BEFORE requiem. which is the finale. and i probably won’t. but maybe i will? idk. i don’t have a ton of time anymore……. 

hmm. there is SO much to ponder here.

i clicked to peek at the episodes in season 8 and saw a few things. woah…….

yeah. idk what i’ll do! but there’s time. the show isn’t going anywhere. hmm. it’s worth it to know what happens… even just so you know how it should be rewritten in an AU. right?

ohohohoho. the world is lowkey my oyster.

[bunji-enthusiast]

Sorry again but that scourge fic?? TYYYYY imagine this now, you're still Sonic's friend and he's particularly protective over you, the whole Sonic vs Scourge fight begins as Scourge walks out from the portal, crown on his head, Scourge flirting with YOU as he's fighting Sonic just to mess with said hedgehog and prob you?? Ooc I think but idc right now 😭

Heavy Lies The Crown — Scourge The Hedgehog

Note || thank you! I really didn’t know what to do, so I just went off on the top of my head for that fic lol. Went off the top off of my head for this one too, but I’ll do something more proper for him in the future when I can force myself to.

WC || 480

Sypnosis || One Hedgehog, Two Hedgehogs. It can get rather confusing when the greener of the two can be very indifferent compared to your more heroic friend.

“Well ain't this interestin?” Scourge chuckled, legs pushing forward as he revealed himself forth from the portal. Right now, it was just; you, Sonic and Scourge. This was a tense atmosphere of which you were not absolutely sure you could redirect, or for that matter prevent the two from fighting. 

What the hell was with the crown though? That was a brand new addition, and in your honest opinion wasn’t a good choice of fashion for the rebellious hedgehog. 

“Leave ‘em outta this.”Sonic growled, tentatively side-stepping to block you from his view. You were albeit confused, a hint of confusion remaining on your face despite the clear clarity of the situation. 

Scourge threw his hands up in a matter of a dramatic gesture of a display, a sharp smile forming on his face, “Come on, I’m pretty sure the pretty little thing has as much business and priority in this as much as you.”

“I-”

For a moment you thought you saw the blue blur falter in his steps as he rose up to go face to face with Scourge, but you would talk about that with him later. You didn’t want to get in his way, regardless of how much you wanted to understand what the two meant. 

“Eh it’s really too bad, honestly.” Scourge mentions at one point or another, whilst in the midst of fighting Sonic. This seemed to confuse you, but you couldn’t tell with the look on Sonic’s face, it looked like he just wanted to get this done and over with. You wanted too as well, but Scourge was highly unpredictable at times that even you could not understand. “You're really cute darlin, and that’s the real shame here.”

He grins when he realizes that Sonic had stopped speaking completely, leaving all preconditions out the window. That really bothered him, and Scourge was feeling all the better with it. 

 “Maybe you should pay attention, instead of making useless comments.” You note, crossing your arms as you already had found a safe distance away from their fighting. At most, even Sonic had found himself silently agreeing with you. 

“Yeah, you gotta be sick of chasing after so many innocent mobians who had nothing to do with you in the first place.” Sonic snickers as he slides back from a rebounded attack from Scourge, he pants for a few moments as he gains his bearings again. 

Scourge’s lips almost falters, revealing a short-sighted frown. “Oh shaddup, you should be the one to pay attention chump.” He gains a running start as he attacks Sonic with a stronger dash, strength was not something the green hedgehog had lacked for a very long time now. Ever since his fortunate upgrade, he felt lucky otherwise.

To be able to gain some sort of revenge on Sonic, and mess with you too at the same time was even better.

[nexxen24]

One Last Job---Chapter Eight

A link to Chapter Seven: https://www.tumblr.com/nexxen24/784195617991933952/one-last-job-chapter-seven?source=share

8: Cross

Siberian Wilderness, June 2014

Ten Years Ago

I had been waiting for this day for close to twenty years and it felt crazy that it was finally happening. I was going to take the leap and actually leave, or at least attempt to. An old friend and the one good part about being here left close to two years back and she gave me a way out, a chance to be free and I was finally ready to take it, to see if I could make it out. The gift was a small pin that could be used to get the cuff off my ankle and actually allow me to use my powers as an escape method, not just during training or the countless hours of experimenting Anton conducted. The guards at the facility had always been a bit limited, only a handful so they’d be easy, it was just Anton and Roland I had to watch out for and they loved retaliating against me, brainstorming new ways to make it hurt. Their last way was still healing on my left arm and I tried to ignore it as I dug the pin into the cuff, waiting with baited breath for the moment it popped off. 

“Come on Mel…please,” I muttered and moved it an inch which caused the cuff to release, leaving me with a heavily scarred ankle…but I was free for the first time in two decades, I was free, sort of. “Step one…”

I waited for one of the guards to bring dinner or administer some sort of serum that Anton had cooked up and sat there like a good little test subject, keeping the ankle covered to not arouse any suspicion. I sat there, still as a board, for close to three before one finally walked in and over to me, telling me to hold out my arm but I didn’t comply. 

“Come on, don’t make me add to the scars,” he said and eyed my arm as I shrugged, wanting him to grab my arm. “Fine…whatever.”

He did what I wanted and reached out, grabbing my arm as I did the same to him, activating my powers and catching his eyes, the guy stopping dead at the sight of the smoke starting to billow out of my fingers. He moved to step back, call for backup or even Anton but I held on tight and cocked my head to the side, thinking of how I should go about killing him. I could go the easy route, just tell his mind to raise up his gun and pull the trigger but that didn’t sound as fun. 

“Stop breathing,” I ordered and he nodded as if in a trance before letting me go and stepping back, staring at me for a split second before his lips started to turn blue and he let out a gasp. 

The guard stepped back, reaching for his throat since he was likely pretty confused as to why he couldn’t convince himself to start breathing but my powers were stronger and in seconds he was down. I jumped up, grabbing his boots and socks and slipping them on before nabbing the gun he kept at his side and a couple extra clips along with a belt to hold it all. I didn’t feel like being sneaky on my way out, biding my time or dressing up as a guard, I felt like causing a massacre and a gun felt like a good way to do it. I loaded the pistol before taking one final look at the room and using the guards keycard to unlock the door and step out, really feeling like I was getting somewhere. 

I kept myself pretty much attached to the wall as I walked, keeping an eye out for any more guards that would’ve gone looking for the one that didn’t come back. The place was pretty quiet though and I had no idea what time it was or even the actual date, just an idea of how it’s been since I first realised what happened when I was eight. And let me tell you…tally marks are a godsend and it felt good to wave goodbye to close to 6000 lining the walls of that damn concrete room, scratched into the walls with the plastic fork I had since I was a kid. But I’d no longer have to use, to keep it shoved in the mattress to keep it safe and prevent them from taking the one thing I did for myself, the one thing that made this better since I knew that one day…one of those tallies would be the last. 

Today was that day and I couldn’t keep myself from grinning as I knelt next to the door that led into one of their break rooms where a collection of about six guards were playing a card game. A digital clock on the wall let me know it was close to 3am and the night shift brigade was just starting their shift which was perfect, there was always less at night. I latched onto the mind of the one nearest me and convinced him to pull out his gun which freaked out the guys surrounding him. 

“Hey…James…what are you doing?” one asked and reached for the gun but I was quicker and my puppet shot him point blank in the head. 

A firefight ensued shortly after and I kept myself attached to the wall as the guards went at it, assuming their friend had been possessed and the only way to stop it was to kill him which was fine by me. After about a minute the shooting stopped and the last guard, not the one I had mind controlled, crawled out of the room since someone had got him in the ankle. He sighed in relief and leaned against the wall as I smiled at him and the guy's eyes widened before he tried to scramble away from me. 

“No…please…ANTON!” 

“Nope,” I muttered and stood, shooting him in the head before continuing on and making my way to where I thought a door would be. 

Near the middle of the facility was a large room that Anton conducted his more intensive drills in and I had made my way there, gun out in front of me and a finger on the trigger in case anything jumped out in front of me but so far…it looked clear. I spotted what I had to assume was a door at the far end of the room and made my way over, placing a hand on the large bar that lets you push it to open it. I breathed out a sigh of relief and was about to push when something in my mind told me to stop and I turned, pointing the gun and shooting, hitting someone. 

“Ah, god!” 

“Who’s there,” I said and frowned when I couldn’t read them. 

“Alex…please…calm down.”

“No…I don’t think I will,” I muttered as Anton hobbled forward since my shot had got him in the leg. 

He looked the same despite the pain on his face, dark, greying brown hair and grey eyes that were narrowed into small slits as he clutched the handle of his own gun, a pistol and one he always carried. His trademark brown slacks were tarnished from the spot of blood on his calf and his white button down was all ruffled since the guard’s scream likely got him up in a hurry. 

At one point, when I was really young, I thought of Anton as a dad, a saviour even and was eager to do whatever he wanted which was how I got my powers in the first place. He asked if I wanted to be special and I didn’t know any better so I said yes, followed all his tests and came out of it forever changed with constant voices in my head. I think I kept up the feeling towards him until I was shot the first time and it all shattered and he showed his true colours. Crazy that that happened all the way back a couple days before my assumed tenth birthday, I didn’t know the date, I just guessed and picked five days after he shot me to test my healing ability and thanks to the coma, I missed it. 

“Come on Alex, don’t be stupid.”

“Why?” 

“The world out there is a lot, you know that.”

“Oh and in this place is so much better?” I shot back and he sighed. 

“In here you’re safe. Out there they don’t like mutants, you’re hunted down and imprisoned, treated like a convict for doing nothing but existing. In here, I can keep you safe.” 

“No…in here is just like out there.”

“Really…you really think that?” he asked and I stepped forward, keeping the gun trained on him and wishing I could mind control him to jump off a high cliff. 

“I do,” I assured and got close enough to place the gun on his chest, right over his heart. “No one who does what you have done to me has any right to say this was better, to claim that you did nothing wrong and in turn just kept me safe. This isn’t safe, Anton.”

“Please…Alex…You know I care about you,” he began but I hit him across the face with the end of the pistol before he could continue. 

“No…you never did,” I said and lined up my shot just as an unknown shot at me and got me, right in the same spot as Anton and I went down hard. 

I eyed the shooter to find target #2 or Roland standing about ten feet back and pulled the trigger, barely aiming at him but sighing in relief when he went down and didn’t look to be getting back up. I sighed in relief and stood, barely able to get to my feet but I pushed through it and turned, locking eyes with Anton who actually looked sad and pathetic, not the usual hard faced man I’d come to loathe. I moved to the door and placed a hand on the bar, pushing down and sighing in relief when it swung open and cold air blasted me in the face. I didn’t even look at Anton when I reached back with the gun raised, I just pulled the trigger and felt the tears fall when he stopped crying out for me to stop. 

I stepped fully out the door and took a deep breath of clean and natural air, air that I hadn’t even felt in the longest time and knew that I was free, that my plan finally worked. All those days were behind me and as soon as I got somewhere safe and not freezing I’d get to work on forgetting any of them happened in the first place. But I’d keep the look on Anton’s face when I stepped out that door, when I finally made it, it was a look of regret and a look of anger all rolled into one. A look that I never wanted to forget, for it was the last look he’d ever have the privilege of giving me after getting so many for so many years before. 

Lethbridge, Alberta, March 2025

Ten Years Later 

I was jostled awake by the plane landing and glanced at John who I had been using as a pillow since the flight was close to ten hours and we were in the back of a cargo plane. Not having any proper ID knocked out being able to use a regular plane so Val found us an alternative and I knew she had an ulterior motive but I couldn’t help and was a bit grateful she was willing to help us. I still had a feeling she had something planned and had been meaning to tell John not to tell her Anton was dead, to just fade into the background once we had finished and make her think the worst had happened. But I had my doubts that he would and that was okay, we’d figure it out together and I picked my head up off his laugh before stretching out, stiff from being curled up for so long. 

“Where are we?” 

“Calgary, there’s a car waiting for us, another gift from Val.” 

“God…I don’t trust that woman.”

“I know…but we’d still be in Europe if it wasn’t for her,” he pointed out and I nodded, with a shrug, knowing he was right and we needed this plane. 

“True…still…I just wish she wasn’t able to hold all this against us.”

“Look,” John began and grabbed my hand. “Let me handle Val, I can deal with her and I’ll make sure she doesn’t do anything stupid.”

“Okay,” I said and he smiled, leaning down to give me a kiss. 

“So…what were you thinking about? You spent the last few hours shaking.” 

“Anton and the day that I escaped. I just kept regretting not turning back and making sure he was dead, I just left…didn’t even check to see if he was really gone, I just assumed. I could’ve prevented this whole thing.”

“It’s fine, don’t beat yourself up too much.”

“Don’t beat myself up because I couldn’t look the guy that almost killed me in the face and kill him right back, even though he completely and utterly deserved it.”

“Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m saying,” he said and I frowned at him as he chuckled. “Look…I get why you didn’t turn. I think a part of you still couldn’t get over the fact that he was really gone, that it was over so you chose not to find out. We tend to hold onto regrets and wishes that things were different and sometimes when they are different…we can’t let go.” 

“Yeah…but he’s Anton.”

“He was also a constant in your life for close to twenty years, being free of that is a big change and it takes a long time to get over it.” 

“I think I still am,” I muttered and couldn’t picture a life without looking back to see if Anton was behind me, a life of peace. 

“It doesn’t have to be instant,” John assured and wrapped an arm around my shoulder as the plane touched down and we waited for the pilot, whose name was Carl, to open up the door. 

“We’ve landed!” Carl called and pulled open the door as I grabbed my duffle and wandered over, hopping out with his help and landing on a runway covered in snow. 

John followed shortly after and wrapped Carl in a side hug before he was handed a set of car keys and told to drive the jeep that was parked by a hangar on the far end of the runway. We waved goodbye to Carl and thanked him for all the help before heading that way as I really breathed in a lungful of fresh, yet cold, Canadian air. I hadn’t done that in close to thirty and even then I didn’t remember the country or the man we had to drive a couple hours to go and see. I had to hope that he wouldn’t go insane and refuse to listen to us but there was really no telling what would happen and I tried to ignore that my hands were shaking. 

“I can turn on the heat,” John offered since they were still shaking, even as he drove down the highway away from Calgary International. 

“No…I’m not cold, just scared,” I said and let out a nervous chuckle as John reached over and placed a hand on my knee. 

“I’m sure it’ll be fine. I managed to get Val to add in a copy of your dad’s file to ease your mind,” John said and opened up the glove compartment revealing a squashed manila folder. “Maybe hearing about him will help to ease your mind.”

I nodded and grabbed the folder, opening it to find a whole bunch of pages with details about him and his life in Alberta, down to a satellite image of the house he lived in. He was just outside the city in a small home with a bunch of broken down cars in the yard and had apparently recently turned 55 in January. I had also forgotten his name and my eyes teared up a bit at the Steven Cross written at the top of the personal file, along with a birthdate and a mention of a Clara who I knew for a fact was my mother. He also worked as a mechanic at a shop in town, had two dogs named Dodge and Ford and could often be found playing pool at a bar called Ray’s in downtown Lethbridge on Friday’s. 

“God…he sounds so normal,” I muttered and kept the page with his address but tossed the rest on the backseat before sinking further into the seat, more mad than nervous. 

“Not what you expected?” 

“I wanted him to be pathetic and lonely, living in some shithole and filled with regret. Instead he has a job and dogs and letting me go probably never passes his mind. Like…how can you play pool on the weekend when you sold your daughter when she was five to some weirdo who claimed he knew your dead girlfriend. How can you live with that?” 

“What would you rather him be?” John asked and I bit my tongue before I said dead like I wanted to. 

“Unhappy, no dogs….I don’t know…”

“Maybe he is, I mean…you can get a dog and still be sad, I debated it before I met you,” John admitted and I chuckled as he pulled off the highway since we had reached the edge of town. 

“Having him forget about me…forgetting about this town…It just makes it feel like I was never here,” I muttered and John reached out, placing a hand on my knee. “I know it’s stupid, of course I was here. But I need more…”

“It’s not stupid.”

“Thank you,” I said and John smiled as he pulled off a side street and parked in front of the same small rancher from the satellite image. 

Sure enough the yard was covered in cars and two dogs were huddled under the awning of the porch, snoozing next to each other to keep warm and I could see the TV was on and he was watching hockey of all things. I had been meaning to grab some authentic maple syrup from the airport but had never gotten the chance so I still wasn’t all that stereotypical like I wanted to be. But seeing the man that apparently was part of me watching hockey was making it better and I smiled before opening the gate and catching the attention of the dogs. As a mind reader, I could hear even animals' thoughts and the two were less than thrilled by the two strangers who decided to intrude on their property. 

Danger.

“We’re nice,” I assured and stepped onto the porch before reaching a hand out and one walked over to sniff it. 

No danger.

“None,” I assured and the dog got a lot happier, sitting back and letting me pet it as John joined in. 

“Hey! They don’t like people and neither do I!” 

The door slammed open and I turned, catching Steven’s eye as he stood there, bat raised and about ready to strike at the two strangers petting his supposed guard dogs. He relaxed a bit when he noticed they weren’t barking or acting aggressive and shoved the bat off to the side, crossing his arms and glaring at the two of us. 

“Hello,” I greeted and held out a hand that he surprisingly shook. “This might sound a little crazy but I’m Alex…Alex Cross…You gave me away for money thirty years ago to a man named Anton Volkov.” 

“Really?” he asked and I nodded. “God…He said you died.”

“Figures…that’s an Anton thing to do. I’m not dead, I’m alive and he kept me locked up till about ten years ago when I finally broke out. Now…Anton is in the area and me and um…my partner here…are looking for him. I thought I’d also come and say hi.”

“Yeah…sure…come in,” he muttered and stepped back into the house as I followed, Steven grabbing three bottles of beer out of the fridge. “God…Alex…wow…Can I be honest with you?” 

“Of course.”

“I didn’t think you’d ever come back,” he admitted and took a seat at his small dining table that barely fit the three of us. 

“Was it because you thought I died?” 

“That and Anton promised you’d be well taken care of, in some fancy mansion in Ontario and as a very broke twenty something yr old…that sounded pretty good to me. You get a better life…I get some money to buy this place and everything is okay.”

“You never discovered the truth?” I asked and he shook his head.

“When Anton left Alberta I thought that was it, you were gone. I felt terrible, I want you to know and…” Steven paused to stand and grab a small picture frame off a shelf in his kitchen and he handed it over as my throat tightened. “I always kept that.” In the photo was me as a toddler and sandwiched between him and who I could only assume was my mom, a woman that I had never seen before but she looked a lot like me, blonde hair and everything. “Clara died when you were three and a half of some instant illness, we barely got a week before she was gone and I was left with a mortgage, no job and you. My mom wanted me to give you up, get you a better life somewhere and when Anton offered I was desperate that I was no longer thinking and said yes without even thinking.”

“Mel…she mentioned that Anton killed her,” John said and Steven’s eyes widened, his bottle halfway to his mouth. 

“What? How?” 

“She didn’t say how, just that he did and wanted to make you desperate since they knew each other.”

“We all knew each other,” Steven muttered and I raised a brow. “At one point I was an engineering student at McMaster in Ontario and Anton was in some fancy genetics course and Clara was there for business. We all met up at a hockey game and became fast friends and when I dropped out after my dad got sick and left for Alberta, Clara followed and got pregnant shortly after. She mentioned being different, having some extras and she needed Anton to keep an eye on the baby so he flew her to Ontario a few times. The last was when you were three…he wanted to make sure you were healthy.”

“I guess that was a lie,” I muttered and Steven glared at the table. 

“God…I’m assuming you got her gifts.”

“That and more,” I said and he sighed. 

“Mutant, I’ve heard the term a few times, I never cared, I just wanted you to both be healthy. If I would’ve known he was the reason she died, I never would’ve said yes. I shouldn’t have said yes in the first place.”

“It happened and it’s over,” I muttered and he glanced at me as I polished off the bottle of beer.

“Now what?” 

“Now we need to find Anton and do what I should’ve done years ago.”

“You’re gonna kill him,” he guessed and I nodded. “Good. I’ll ask around at Ray’s tonight and see if anyone’s seen an asshole wandering around.” 

“We should come with you in case they have,” I said and stood but Steven placed a hand on my shoulder and gently pushed me back down. 

“Stay here. Rest, you can enjoy anything in the fridge, I won’t be long.” 

I was about to protest but I caught John’s eye and saw the look on his face, telling me to let him go and enjoy his normal evening despite the bombshell that just showed up on his porch. I figured that was fair and relaxed a bit, Steven giving me a smile before he grabbed his coat and keys and headed for the door, pausing with his hand on the doorknob. He let out a loud sigh before turning and I glanced at him, wondering what was on his mind. I didn’t want to read his mind, it felt wrong and ever since John’s mind had been closed off I’d been avoiding it, preferring to actually hear what people had to say. 

“Uh…” he began and looked at me, a sad look on his face. “I know it’s too late but I’m sorry.” 

I nodded and Steven smiled at me before shoving his dogs inside the house and heading off as they both came over to sniff my hands which I let them do of course. It did feel too late for any kind of apology but I was still grateful for one, for an acknowledgement that he regretted his choice and wanted to make amends. Maybe if Anton didn’t do anything drastic I could come back here one day, see him again, have a somewhat normal relationship with a man that felt like more of a stranger than a father. Some people might suggest that Anton was a better father, he did raise me despite it all but I liked to think that I was just me, adrift and alone. Sure I had John and he was perfect but that lack of blood family, at least ones that felt like blood, was making me sad and I hadn’t said anything as I pet the dog named Dodge. 

“So…he said sorry,” John muttered after he had grabbed two more beers and handed me one. 

“A little too late,” I said and grabbed the beer before downing half the bottle as Dodge walked off, likely finding me too sad. 

“Well…He did…you know…think you’d died.”

“It didn’t sound like he cared,” I shot back and moved over to the living room, flopping down onto the couch and reaching for the remote but John grabbed it and shoved it aside. “Hey.”

“No…come on…talk to me,” he said and I frowned at him as he took a seat next to me. “This is a lot.”

“No…really,” I muttered and John rolled his eyes. “Look…I have nothing to say. I’m not mad or sad…just numb.”

“Why?” he asked and I frowned but let out a sigh and shoved the bottle on the table before snuggling against him. 

“I don’t know…I just feel like I don’t have a family. We came here for Anton, to get answers and to stop him and it just so happened he picked my old home. But this place doesn’t feel like a home, I feel like a stranger.”

“Could he ever be more than that?”

“I don’t think so,” I admitted and felt sad to admit that.

“Alright…you don’t need some blood relative to call your family…you have me.”

“Really?” I asked and looked up to find him smiling at me. 

“Always.” 

I reached up to give him a kiss when the doorbell rang and I had to assume that it was Steven and he might’ve forgotten something or didn’t want us to drink anymore of his beer. I sighed and told John I’d get it before jumping to my feet and walking over to the door, Dodge following in excitement that something more interesting than sadness was happening. 

“No…not letting you outside,” I said and the dog cursed me out in its mind as I chuckled and pulled open the door only to find no one there. “God…prank calls in an arguably rural part of Alberta, who would’ve guessed.” 

I turned back to John but he was gone and replaced by a primarily black room with a single chair, one that was big and plush with a man sitting on it with his leg crossed over the other and a smug smile on his face. I reached down for the knife I kept on me, even when visiting Steven but it was missing and I was nothing but leggings and a long sleeve t-shirt, both as black as the room as the man chuckled. 

“Nice try Alex, but we’re not in the real world.”

“Where are we?” I hissed.

“Your mind, controlled by me,” Anton informed and snapped his fingers causing a second chair, a table and even some tea to appear in front of him. 

“What…how did you…”

“No…no questions, that’s for later,” he said and grabbed a cup of tea, taking a long sip with a smile on his face. “Come sit, we have much to discuss. Please…I missed you.” 

“Really?”

“No…you tried to kill me last time and now I’m at your mercy.”

“Why?” 

“Because I have to do the one thing I never thought I’d ever do,” he muttered and I waited for him to continue as I slowly took a seat. “Alex…I need your help.” 

[butchpeace]

I’ve been trying to sort out what affect being raised in a conservative and catholic environment had on my trans identification. It’s a tough thing to sort out, but I’m 100% sure I would never have wanted to be a man if I wasn’t raised in the way I was.

It seems ridiculous to imagine that there are parents out there who would prefer their child go through the hell of medical and social transition rather than just be gay and gender-nonconforming.

But it’s clear those parents are out there. And I have to reckon with the possibility that my parents are like that to some extent.

They tried. When I told them I wanted to transition, they finally told me that it’s okay to be a masculine woman. They finally asked me “Why can’t you just be a lesbian?”

It was too little too late. They had never, for my entire life up until that point, said anything positive about masculine women. They had been subtly homophobic my whole life. My mother was a judgmental person who only approved of herself and other women when they looked acceptably feminine, conservatively dressed, not weird, and not overweight. My parents used “just be a masculine woman” as a bargaining chip to prevent my transition, not because they actually meant it. Not because they actually valued me in that way.

My mom wanted me to be like her. She wanted me to wear the makeup and the bras and the dresses. She wanted me to cross my legs, act like a lady, go to college, meet a catholic boy, and spend my life having babies the way she did. It didn’t matter that I wanted short hair and to shop in the boy’s section. She wasn’t having it. After I hit puberty, it wasn’t normal to be a tomboy anymore. That’s what I was taught. My dad was a doormat. To his credit, he did try in some ways to raise his sons and daughters the same. But he also had misogynistic ideas from his religion about how his daughters ideally should be.

I think there are a lot of people out there who know deep down that life is better if you’re a man. That life is better if your kid can blend in, rather than stand out for being obviously gay. They know deep down that life can be shitty for masculine women.

Whether it’s conscious or subconscious, it’s clear that parents of trans kids know this, and part of their reasoning for supporting their child’s transition must be because they see how it would make our lives easier. Transition is a convenient idea. If you pass, it makes the family look good and normal when before they had a kid who was a black sheep. They also start to feel like they can understand or relate to you more easily when you suddenly “fit in” to the heteronormative world. Supporting transition makes them feel good about themselves in the current political climate. My parents went from homophobic conservatives to liberals practically overnight when I transitioned. Where was that support when I came out as a lesbian? Where was that support when I met my first girlfriend? Where were the pride flags and parades then?

But I also know that at the core, their intentions have always been good. They genuinely thought they were helping and supporting me in what I thought was the right thing to do. While they should have known I was too young to make the choices I did, and they should have been more involved in those choices, can I really blame them for being just as lost and confused as I was? Maybe, maybe not.

But I have to wonder, what would my life have been like if instead of my parents and that environment, I had been raised by feminists? What kind of woman would I be today?