#nobody loves their government except the rich

[twelvemonkeyswere]

A list of inaccuracies about Costa Rica in the Jurassic Park movie franchise, from a Costa Rican who adores Jurassic Park:

Famously, the capital of Costa Rica--San José--isn't nowhere near the coast

Rancheras aren't blasted very often at restaurants either. Rancheras are more a Mexican tradition.

Costa Rica has a strict policy about protecting national parks. Our most famous island, which is pretty far away from the mainland, is Coco's Island. It's uninhabited except for the park rangers, no civilian visitors are ever allowed to protect the integrity of the island. The only way five islands that big remained uninhabited in Costa Rican territory is if they had been part of a national park, too. INGen wouldn't have been able to purchase the islands at all in the first place.

In that same vein, a possible solution, narrative-wise, would be for INGen to involve the government of Costa Rica from the get-go, and get special permission to develop a biodiversity protection program in the island as well as their own thing. Quid pro quo. This sounds way more plausible than Costa Rica just selling WHOLE islands to some gringos (Costa Rica sells bits--sometimes BIG bits, against every moral--but not whole islands).

Also, INGen would have at least one Costa Rican nagging them about paperwork and bureaucracy at all times.

In addition, all of Costa Rica's coastline is by law public space, which means nobody can legally own it, even if they own the land immediately behind the beach. Locals would have been, if not living, at least regularly visiting the islands before and after INGen was established there, esp if they had caught wind that it was meant to be an amusement park. Ellie and Alan wouldn't have been with half a foot on the ground when a guy would have strolled with his copos stand to offer them some.

Costa Rica doesn't have sequoias nor could it have any. I have no idea where The Lost World thought it was set in but it def was not Costa Rica!!!

Same energy as Jurassic World having a fucking mosasaurus eating a very much endagendered white shark. As a nation we already have a lot of problems with corruption from officials and people fighting against shark finning. Allowing a MOSASAURUS to live within Costa Rican seas AND to eat a white shark is not even fantasy, it's straight up delusion*.

Most of the employees at both the early Jurassic Park and then in Jurassic World are from the USA. I have no idea where those guys live or how often they travel to the mainland or who handles their residencies and social securities. It's more common for gringo-owned companies in the country (think hotels) to have admin staff be gringos too but the rest being locals.

Costa Rica has a strict anti-military presence policy in its territory, which means it doesn't even allow military ships to dock in its international ports or military aircraft to fly over the country, with *very few* exceptions. Ellie, as much as I love her, wouldn't have been able to send the USA military to the island to rescue Alan & co. in JP 3. It's more likely a rescue party from the government of CR had been issued and provided.

Similarly, I don't imagine the Costa Rican government prepared to trap the dinosaurs left by INGen, but I can perfectly imagine them asking for help from bigger nations to help catch the animals before the island's ecology was ruined. They would probably try to seize the creatures and lots of discussion would've gone into what the hell to do with them. They would probably have demanded INGen itself to arrange and perform the logistics of the extraction. I just mean INGen would not have JUST sat there without consequences because they "owned" the island.

However, the fact Jurassic World is a small niche of rich gringos once it's open **is** the most factual part of Jurassic World because there's no way a local could have afforded the prices in that park. Tourism is mostly for foreigners and it is always like that!

Nobody ever says "pura vida", not even once.

[mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess]

Identity crisis

PREV: Chapter Three: Traceless

HERE: Chapter Four: Reminiscent

NEXT:

FIRST: Chapter One: Identity foreclosure

Warnings: discussion of drugs and sex work, mentions of death

Wei Wuxian invited Mo Xuanyu to celebrate his - their - 30th birthday at his house party. They had reconnected by chance on social media after not having seen each other for over five years, and Wei Wuxian insisted they celebrate together like they used to when they were in college.

Back then, their birthday party was a dorm room sized gathering of Wei Wuxian's friends (Mo Xuanyu didn't have any), cheap supermarket cake and shitty booze that got everyone drunk and merry quickly. Gifts were few and far between, but that wasn't the point of the party - having fun and making memories was. They were all largely broke college students, after all, nobody expected anything beyond pairs of socks, fun shirts and the occasional gag gift.

But they were no longer college students now. Wei Wuxian had a lot of money - and not just because he married into it, his genius and many inventions granted him fame and millions - with a lifestyle to match it.

He lived in a luxurious home, went on lavish vacations, sent his son to fancy private school. The quickest peek at Wei Wuxian's social media had Mo Xuanyu both marvel at it and envy it.

He knew Wei Wuxian hadn't become a snob or anything, he was sure his college friend was still the same fun-loving, down to earth, mischievous man he had always been and he was just enjoying the perks of the life that he deserved. And Mo Xuanyu was happy for him, he really was!

He only wished his own life had gone, if not the same, at least even slightly better. He knew he wasn't a genius like Wei Wuxian, he wasn't as attractive (though he did look a lot like Wei Wuxian himself, he could never compare), or nearly as charming. He had often joked he was Wei Wuxian's failed clone.

Where Wei Wuxian thrived, Mo Xuanyu hid and ran away. He had never been brave or ambitious, or discovered anything he was exceptional at. He graduated with no fanfare and nobody but Wei Wuxian to congratulate him for it and celebrate.

His mother became sick soon after that, and Mo Xuanyu suddenly found himself in the position of full time caretaker to an incredibly high needs patient while also juggling two jobs to pay the bills. Treatment costs racked up higher and higher the more advanced medicine and cures the doctors prescribed, and suddenly insurance was no longer enough, neither was any government support or even Mo Xuanyu's hard earned money.

He had to find a way to make money, quickly and a lot. So, he contacted his deadbeat father for it, the infuriatingly rich womanizer presiding over Jinlintai, the largest company in the country. He hated the man with a burning passion, a cruel, thoughtless bastard that sired more children that he could have ever been bothered to even hear of.

But he was rich and resourceful and Mo Xuanyu knew he was no longer in the position to hold onto his principles. So he visited his father. The last time he had seen that despicable man was when he was fourteen. He had wanted to meet him at the time, spend time together and bond, and had even apologized for his absence - it had been right out of Mo Xuanyu's wildest dreams.

Then it was over. Mo Xuanyu didn't like to think how it had actually been over, but the crux of it was that he ended up kicked out of the Jin mansion in the middle of the night and swore he would never return.

The moment he entered his father's office, he felt as though he was betraying every part of his younger self.

When he agreed to work as a dancer in Ghost City, he felt like he was betraying every part of his future self.

There was no other choice. The money was plentiful, came in the hundreds, then the thousands. Mo Xuanyu had never imagined he would ever sell his dignity so easily - but suddenly, he no longer had to worry about whether the electricity would get cut off, or whether he would have enough food for both himself and his mom. Suddenly, they could afford more treatment options, and his mom was getting better.

If she suspected something, she never said anything about it, and Mo Xuanyu was more than happy to pretend he wasn't keeping them afloat doing the one thing his mom despised most.

Mo Xuanyu found her dead the morning of his 27th birthday. Peacefully passed in her sleep, cold and motionless. He would never forget the image of her in that bed, it haunted him for years.

Everything went downhill from that point on. He worked over time for months just so he wouldn't have to return to an empty home - and then he met Xue Yang, his manager's top drug dealer, and he found an even better way to numb down his pain.

Suddenly, all his money stopped going to the bills and rent, instead turning to whatever Xue Yang would give him to get him high. He had to move into a cheaper place, sell some of his mom's jewelry, do some really fucked up things for way too much money.

But it didn't matter, because nothing did. Mo Xuanyu lived just so he wouldn't die.

And then he stumbled upon Wei Wuxian's Instagram profile one evening before his night shift started. He didn't know what possessed him to send a message or why Wei Wuxian answered him so quickly and earnestly.

He didn't know why he accepted to celebrate his 30th birthday with him - because Mo Xuanyu had never felt so out of place in his life. There were so many people around, important, rich, fine people. They wore expensive clothes and glimmering jewelry, the kind Mo Xuanyu only saw up close on his... clients, never on himself.

There was plenty of food that Mo Xuanyu's instant noodles would never even come close to comparing with, and the alcohol was so good it bore no resemblance to the stuff they sold at the liquor store next to Mo Xuanyu's apartment building.

Wei Wuxian was the same, but he had somehow become even more handsome and the fine stuff fit him so well that, had Mo Xuanyu not met him before, he would have thought Wei Wuxian had always lived like this. His husband had also grown into a breathtaking man, tall and imposing, with an air of dominance that only softened around Wei Wuxian - and their son was absolutely adorable.

Mo Xuanyu wanted so badly to have even a fraction of that life.

But the party was over before he knew it and he was back home, in his shitty apartment, shooting up drugs to forget about everything he could never have.

But such was life, so full of surprises - which was why Mo Xuanyu suddenly found himself living that exact same life he had so wistfully admired on his 30th birthday. Wei Wuxian's life had become his own. His things, his money, his clothes, his husband, his house, his name, his identity, his everything - all of it was Mo Xuanyu's now to enjoy.

It had taken him a while to accept it, to get used to it, to become comfortable with it. He had been paranoid about it for a few weeks, questioning whether his every word and move resembled Wei Wuxian's.

Nobody suspected anything, nobody said anything.

Mo Xuanyu must have been doing a great job, then.

So, he let some of himself slip through every now and then, mixed his own personality with Wei Wuxian's, conditioned himself to become two people at once.

Eventually, the boundary blurred and he didn't know where Mo Xuanyu ended and Wei Wuxian started.

In his fancy house, in his fancy bed with his wonderful husband and their adorably clueless son, it really did not matter.

Not anymore.

(Not yet)

[duckapus]

So I had some Thoughts about Tulip's experiences with Christmas, and how it'd probably feel this year to be back in her parents' mansion. Cause like, Big Corporate Christmas Parties are a Whole Thing with rich people and her family is Like That so when she was growing up Christmas was likely crowded, stressful and-as she got older and learned just how shitty her parents are-increasingly artificial and joyless. And then depending on when she left it's possible that her first Christmas away from All That was just a normal, cold day alone in her van, and if she bothered to go back to celebrating after the events of the game and her SMGs' arrival it was probably just a small thing with the three of them and probably Dale.

And now they're back in the mansion, and even with her rebuilding the place into something of her own, even with 7, 10, Dale and the ghosts there, the old place is just so Big and Empty and full of bad memories, both in general and of Christmases past.

Except, well, this is also the year she met the other Avatars. And Hocotate and Sequin Land apparently don't have Christmas or equivalent holidays (though the Shantae characters are probably at least aware of it due to Meta Humor), so why not invite over Olimar and Shantae and their SMGs and families to see what's up? And yes Louie and his Nana and Sky, Bolo and the Cadaver Siblings absolutely count. And the Ketchums also usually just do their own small thing (well, small if not for all of Ash's Pokemon and the Oaks and Tracy and whichever of his companions that happen to show up), and they want to make 29 and 30's first Christmas special and Miku's whole Digital Idol thing means she doesn't exactly have family and Jet probably has the same deal Meggy did where he has no idea what Christmas even is, so why not invite them, the mansion probably has enough room for most of the Pokemon and the ones that really Should Not be Indoors like the Tauros and Snorlax have plenty of room out on the grounds.

Then there's the space robot kids and their friends who may or may not have Christmas or Christmas equivalents where they're from but Sally definitely wouldn't normally be celebrating considering where and what her job is so they're definitely in, and Laharl just sort of strolls in unannounced like he owns the place with his little cobbled-together family in tow, and Crown, Twister (the Four-Winged Falcon, Frenzy's little brother. Again, Blatant Sonic Ripoff), 15 and 16 drag in Frenzy since this is apparently The Place To Be (and they do have to drag him because he's being Stupid and assuming that given his past with the Union he won't be welcome).

And even with the other Avatars who have their own Christmas Stuff going on back home (or in the case of Tune's gang they just "happened" to need a place to lay low and decided to crash whatever winter holidays Luminos has, with Jazz (a government agent and Tune's Rival/Girlfriend) and 11 also coming along despite not officially being part of the Gang. They're not fooling anyone) they still manage to pop in every so often.

And now when Tulip was bracing herself for a rough holiday season in that big empty house and her painful history, instead she's got demons and genies and super-powered animals filling the halls. Louie and Delia have taken over the kitchen. Twister and Sicily and Olimar's kids are teaching Sally how to play "The Floor is Lava" and a few of the teens and adults and Pokemon have joined in and Miku's ended up as the Lava Monster somehow. Dale and Mimic alternate between talking shop and swapping stories about their nieces. There may or may not be Something going on between Professor Oak and Louie's Nana. Flonne keeps sneaking mistletoe onto all the doorframes "Because Love" but according to Etna is clearly just doing it to mess with everyone. There was an explosion somewhere and nobody's fessing up. Arle's asleep on the couch and nobody has any idea when she even showed up in the first place. Team Rocket somehow showed up but instead of trying to steal any Pokemon they got strongarmed into helping with the food.

It's just as crowded as it used to be, but now it's noisy and chaotic and full of love, and those cold Christmases from her childhood are mercifully hard to remember surrounded by all this warmth.

[roman-catholic-mass-readings]

17th October >> Mass Readings (Except USA)

Saint Ignatius of Antioch, Bishop, Martyr

    on 

Monday, Twenty Ninth Week in Ordinary Time.

Monday, Twenty Ninth Week in Ordinary Time

(Liturgical Colour: Red)

(Readings for the feria (Monday))

(There is a choice today between the readings for the ferial day (Monday) and those for the memorial. The ferial readings are recommended unless pastoral reasons suggest otherwise)

First Reading

Ephesians 2:1-10

Sinners are saved in Christ Jesus.

You were dead through the crimes and the sins in which you used to live when you were following the way of this world, obeying the ruler who governs the air, the spirit who is at work in the rebellious. We all were among them too in the past, living sensual lives, ruled entirely by our own physical desires and our own ideas; so that by nature we were as much under God’s anger as the rest of the world. But God loved us with so much love that he was generous with his mercy: when we were dead through our sins, he brought us to life with Christ – it is through grace that you have been saved – and raised us up with him and gave us a place with him in heaven, in Christ Jesus.

   This was to show for all ages to come, through his goodness towards us in Christ Jesus, how infinitely rich he is in grace. Because it is by grace that you have been saved, through faith; not by anything of your own, but by a gift from God; not by anything that you have done, so that nobody can claim the credit. We are God’s work of art, created in Christ Jesus to live the good life as from the beginning he had meant us to live it.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm

Psalm 99(100)

R/ He made us, we belong to him.

Cry out with joy to the Lord, all the earth.    Serve the Lord with gladness.    Come before him, singing for joy.

R/ He made us, we belong to him.

Know that he, the Lord, is God.    He made us, we belong to him,    we are his people, the sheep of his flock.

R/ He made us, we belong to him.

Go within his gates, giving thanks.    Enter his courts with songs of praise.    Give thanks to him and bless his name.

R/ He made us, we belong to him.

Indeed, how good is the Lord,    eternal his merciful love.    He is faithful from age to age.

R/ He made us, we belong to him.

Gospel Acclamation

Psalm 24:4,5

Alleluia, alleluia! Teach me your paths, my God, make me walk in your truth. Alleluia!

Or:

Matthew 5:3

Alleluia, alleluia! How happy are the poor in spirit: theirs is the kingdom of heaven. Alleluia!

Gospel

Luke 12:13-21

Fool! This very night your soul will be demanded of you.

A man in the crowd said to Jesus, ‘Master, tell my brother to give me a share of our inheritance.’ ‘My friend,’ he replied, ‘who appointed me your judge, or the arbitrator of your claims?’ Then he said to them, ‘Watch, and be on your guard against avarice of any kind, for a man’s life is not made secure by what he owns, even when he has more than he needs.’

   Then he told them a parable: ‘There was once a rich man who, having had a good harvest from his land, thought to himself, “What am I to do? I have not enough room to store my crops.” Then he said, “This is what I will do: I will pull down my barns and build bigger ones, and store all my grain and my goods in them, and I will say to my soul: My soul, you have plenty of good things laid by for many years to come; take things easy, eat, drink, have a good time.” But God said to him, “Fool! This very night the demand will be made for your soul; and this hoard of yours, whose will it be then?” So it is when a man stores up treasure for himself in place of making himself rich in the sight of God.’

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

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

Saint Ignatius of Antioch, Bishop, Martyr

(Liturgical Colour: Red)

(Readings for the memorial)

(There is a choice today between the readings for the ferial day (Monday) and those for the memorial. The ferial readings are recommended unless pastoral reasons suggest otherwise)

First Reading

Philippians 3:17-4:1

Our homeland is in heaven, and from heaven comes Christ to transfigure us.

My brothers, be united in following my rule of life. Take as your models everybody who is already doing this and study them as you used to study us. I have told you often, and I repeat it today with tears, there are many who are behaving as the enemies of the cross of Christ. They are destined to be lost. They make foods into their god and they are proudest of something they ought to think shameful; the things they think important are earthly things. For us, our homeland is in heaven, and from heaven comes the saviour we are waiting for, the Lord Jesus Christ, and he will transfigure these wretched bodies of ours into copies of his glorious body. He will do that by the same power with which he can subdue the whole universe.

   So then, my brothers and dear friends, do not give way but remain faithful in the Lord. I miss you very much, dear friends; you are my joy and my crown.

The Word of the Lord

R/ Thanks be to God.

Responsorial Psalm

Psalm 33(34):2-9

R/ From all my terrors the Lord set me free.

I will bless the Lord at all times,    his praise always on my lips; in the Lord my soul shall make its boast.    The humble shall hear and be glad.

R/ From all my terrors the Lord set me free.

Glorify the Lord with me.    Together let us praise his name. I sought the Lord and he answered me;    from all my terrors he set me free.

R/ From all my terrors the Lord set me free.

Look towards him and be radiant;    let your faces not be abashed. This poor man called, the Lord heard him    and rescued him from all his distress.

R/ From all my terrors the Lord set me free.

The angel of the Lord is encamped    around those who revere him, to rescue them. Taste and see that the Lord is good.    He is happy who seeks refuge in him.

R/ From all my terrors the Lord set me free.

Gospel Acclamation

James 1:12

Alleluia, alleluia! Happy the man who stands firm, for he has proved himself, and will win the crown of life. Alleluia!

Gospel

John 12:24-26

If a grain of wheat falls on the ground and dies, it yields a rich harvest.

Jesus said to his disciples:

‘I tell you, most solemnly, unless a wheat grain falls on the ground and dies, it remains only a single grain; but if it dies, it yields a rich harvest. Anyone who loves his life loses it; anyone who hates his life in this world will keep it for the eternal life. If a man serves me, he must follow me, wherever I am, my servant will be there too. If anyone serves me, my Father will honour him.’

The Gospel of the Lord

R/ Praise to you, Lord Jesus Christ.

[smzeszikorova]

First off, very cool ocs, I too have so so many that I have to cut down if I'm listing any details XD

Secondly! I would love to know more about the worldbuilding and the countries and stuff :D they sound super cool!

I'm gonna take that as an invitation to start ranting now lmao. Thanks!

Ok, so here are all the countries and cities I've come up with.

Pemoki (Puh-mo-kee): It's cold there. King's an incompetent figurehead, but a lot of Kenacian refugees flock there anyway because the Pemokese don't restrict immigration like a lot of other countries in that region do.

Drosil (Dro-sill): Southern city. Southern Pemoki is generally full of luxurious mansions, government buildings, and unsuspecting rich people. And Drosil's where the prissiest of the prissy come from. It's also the capitol.

Suvlin (Soov-leen): This is where Catherine and her siblings live. Very northern. Very rural. Primarily a refugee town. Lots of farmland and forest, and not too many buildings.

Vijeszka (Vee-yesh-ka): Also a refugee town, but more urban. Lots of overcrowded apartments. This is where Ernest Wolbert lives, and where Lyn used to live before he married Catherine.

Baliszka (Bah-leesh-ka): Another southern town. Lots of fancy shit. It's basically Pemoki's other cultural center besides Drosil, but with less government stuff.

Ksatvaj (Ksaht-vai): A central city, but close enough to Suvlin that Catherine can ride a horse there and back on the same day. Known for its community of retired veterans. Catherine goes there sometimes to buy stuff because she doesn't trust the quality of most goods and services in Suvlin and Vijeszka.

Lewyndanil (Luh-win-duh-neel): South of Pemoki. Aorin was born here. It's pretty and temperate, and also a good place to get stalked by members of the Miaccoran mafia. (But more on that in book 2.)

Kavjanna (Kahv-yah-nuh): The capitol. Very different from the Pemokese capitol. If you're looking for nice, pleasant parts of Lewyndanil, go literally anywhere else. There's a lot of government buildings in the center of Kavjanna, and that part of the city's pretty decent, but everything surrounding it is extremely shady.

Aleon (Aah-lay-yon): Pemoki's powerful neighbor / Adrona's birthplace. They're semi-involved in the war with Kenacia, but only because they're scared that if Levi conquers too many little, insignificant countries, he'll eventually be big enough and powerful enough to challenge Aleon. I don't have any cities for Aleon yet because nobody really goes there at any point in the story. It's more of a background presence.

Kenacia (Ken-ay-sha): Formerly a country nobody ever thought about, except to say, "Man, that King John sure was awful", but now that Levi's king, he's determined to turn Kenacia into a world power.

Thaeryvon (Teer-ih-von): The capitol. Center of a lot of corrupt garbage. Levi lives here, as do all of his military advisors (and technically the rest of his cabinet, but they're not important). Winson went to school here. Catherine, Lyn, Victoria, Petra, and Eva all used to live here. John Niacera's infamous national military academy was here before it got shut down.

Garrons-Abery (Gare-uhns Ay-buh-ree): Winson was born here. Not much else to say about this place.

Merrianck (Mare-ee-ank): Lots of fishermen live here. And so does Samuel Brown. (More on that in book 3.)

Qhiron (Kee-ruhn): Kenacia's neighbor. First country Levi conquered. Now he basically uses the entire country as a battlefield / supplier of resources for his army. He's pretty much universally hated in Qhiron.

Tophrenica Valley (Tuh-fren-ik-uh): Not technically a city. It's more of a region. But it's important because of its location. The Tophrenica river marks the Qhironese-Kenacian border.

Palchaara Araca (Pahl-kar-uh Ah-rock-uh): A walled city / center of the Qhironese rebellion.

Siomnil (Show-neel): General Aamitok's hometown.

Lardengot (Lar-din-go): Kenacia's largest, strongest fortress.

Miaccora (Mee-uh-kor-uh): Everything is legal here. Place to go if you're an outlaw. Miaccora doesn't become a place where plot stuff actually happens until book 2, so I haven't come up with any specific cities there yet. Stay tuned :P

[indexcard]

Top five song lyrics/lines from songs! 🎶

i honestly think i could do this entirely from augie march songs. there are lots of lyrics i love but can't commit to memory, because that's not the way my brain is built, except if i sit down to dedicate myself to a task, as i did with augie march when i was like, 14. and they've stuck in my head because basically nobody writes a song like glenn richards. the song that reminded me i was still thinking about this ask was "asleep in perfection" —

"maybe i don't think right / or maybe i lack that insight / and only the numb or the peaceful might / sleep in perfection"

and my all-time favourite two-liner from "the offer": "to populate a people's song / first you must do something wrong"

it occurs to me i could even do this entirely with lyrics just off the masterpiece album sunset studies. but for a bit of variety, "rich girl" is one of their most lyrically rich of all their songs, sorry for just dumping a whole verse here but this truly gives me chills every time: "tonight i'm making everybody happy / writing songs on my sheet [this is the official version, though it sounds like he's saying 'about shit', which i would assume to be canonical] / well i know i'm not supposed to / be serious about it but i'm serious about it / i don't want to find no backdoor / and i don't want to feel no buffer zone / and if this stuff comes better when i'm on my own / then i'll make it so i'm on my own"

would be remiss of me not to include the final battle cry of "this train will be taking no passengers": "but a shadow falls between this hurtling intent / and its realisation for its government / is rotten and therefore its civilisation / which is certainly taking no passengers" (this song is also notable for the line "we'll smash him from preston to epworth" which always makes me laugh)

just so you know i'm not all about early augie i would like to state for the record that bootikins has some of their best lyrics ever, including the entirety of "bitter clingerzz" but specifically this line of catullus-worthy invective: "it's a finger, and it's permanently raised / are you so dumb you confused it for a thumb?"

bonus one because i'm thinking of bootikins now, this line from "fake jive" which makes me want to fucking cry: "you the poor painter, average singer / maybe you never went through the ringer enough / or loved it so you came out wrung" :(

[meanwhileinstasiville]

All crime is organized where I live

Seriously. It’s like Chicago. There’s a troop of homeless people currently trying to crowdsource a proselytizing attempt *based on the contents of this blog* and my browsing habits. Someone I used to know would like to see that through, I’m sure. But I think he should just point a gun at my head and tell me what to do and why.

Azurus, he had said, “couldn’t love me”, her being able to being the road to his religious system, as declared by me. As a koan, his life is kind of complicated; you’re in a blackened cave system with a flashlight, it’s kinetic because of your pedigree and so doesn’t require recharging, yet it bears the limitations of a flashlight. Everything ahead is illuminated for the path ahead so far as you reasonably need to see. Pitch black darkness creeps up as you pass, and all around the arc of the beam. As far as you know, the course is clear, well demarcated, and there’s no misleading obstacle along the way. Azurus has a flashlight too. Except it’s battery powered; the battery is her face, and we all know what happens to women’s faces with age as they lose their youth. So she won’t always be beautiful, but I’ll *always* be angry.

Always well lit in front of you guys, you know. One by pedigree, another by sublime beauty. Environmentalism championed by one, religion by another. Neither experience is consequential of or derived from the source of that flashlight beam, pointing in whatever direction they happen to look, respectively. “What’s it like to be rich? What’s it like to be beautful?” Where do you get a light source that casts no shadow, huh?

Aside and Azurus directed: You represent consequences, and you’re not allowed to experience those, so long as your looks hold out. And calling that “undercover” or even “federal” work, to use that flashlight is a little suspect. Whatever Lola wants, might cut down on those astronomical by rural Ashland standards operating costs, IMHO. What is it that “lee” has, that nobody else does? Pandering. The answer must be pandering. My old friend would probably have said that a reich pedigree was the price of admission, a long time ago, were he being honest with me. As with that kind of a pedigree, recidivism is the best you can possibly expect, because nobody can grow a pedigree anymore than a nouveau riche family can suddenly become “old money”. Such is the nature of the “flashlight” system. Seriously, play catholic, carry a gun, and tell people what to do and how to live at gunpoint. That’s the entitlement of pedigree born moral superiority, catholic, not catholic, then and now. Sharia or not.

(”Thank you for smoking with us” says the red shirt with white lettering street thug’s shirt who just walked out)

Also: Cartel Latinos are looking for a hierarchal system for whiteness; regular white, and then uniform associated white, and then CIA/FBI associated white, and then full-on government white, and so on down there in the caves. 

[moreleafedclovers]

How Rich People Make Bank Off of the Federal Reserve’s High Interest Rates.

The Federal Reserve's interest rate* functions like a sad substitution for a tax; it's a request made by a person (the federal government) who is uncomfortable with the idea of actually asking for what they need. Capitalists love it when the Fed increases rates for two reasons: first because people with money can choose whether or not they want to pay, and second because it guarantees returns for the people who do pay in. It's a "business deal" where the moneyed investors get guaranteed returns backed by a literal Source Of Federal Money. Usually this means that a lot of money is spent paying out to investors that would've been far better spent helping out the people who are doing the work of actually improving society.

Imagine, for a moment, that you're at a party, and there's a whole bunch of people and a cake, and someone (usually for completely arbitrary reasons) has managed to stuff an entire fifth of the cake onto their plate. There are a lot of people at this party, and having that whole fifth of the cake taken out of the picture is making the cake-to-people ratio for everyone else look pretty grim. A reasonable taxation solution would look like "hey, man, we need some of that part to help feed everyone," and then cutting a couple of pieces out of that fifth and handing them out to the group. The group reclaims excess and then spends it in whatever ways are most helpful. That is NOT how the Federal Reserve works.

The Federal Reserve's solution is to say "if you give us some of that fifth now, we'll make sure you get a quarter of the cake at the next party," and then doing exactly that. When the next party rolls around, of course, one person has fully a quarter of the entire cake, and the Federal Reserve says "hey, actually we need some of that cake to feed everyone else, if you give us some of that piece we'll make sure you get a third of the cake at the next party," and the situation not only perpetuates, but worsens.

Of course, because the Federal Reserve has no power to tax anything (to clarify: the Federal Reserve shouldn't have the power to levy taxes, we're only in this situation because Congress is presently and recently staffed by a bunch of ineffectual and spineless cowards who like to bully other people into making controversial decisions for them**), the person with the cake can just say "no," and then throw most of it away because it was a really big cake and a third of it is more than someone could possibly eat, and thereby leave everyone else scraping for enough cake to get by.

Except the real Federal Reserve doesn't deal in cakes, and working class and poor people actually starve and get evicted and freeze to death when this happens in the real world.

*This 'Interest Rate' that everyone keeps yammering about is the interest for federal bonds; ie, the interest rate they'll pay if YOU loan THEM money. The higher the interest rate, the more future money the Federal Reserve will give you in exchange for you giving them some of your money now. This can cause some pretty obvious and foreseeable problems for the future Fed, but nobody gives a shit because usually it’s the next administration that has to deal with those problems.

**My strongly held opinion is that if someone is rich enough to give loans to the Federal Government, then they’re rich enough to pay taxes to the Federal Government. God forbid everyone can afford to put food on the table.

[temerchanshirt]

A wise Doctor once wrote shirt

But no lockdown yet, despite our opposition leader, and health care and frontline essential workers begging the government for a reprieve. Just "restrictions" which are killing our businesses. Thankfully our numbers have started to drop below 200 per day, but then again we just had two weeks of - 35/-40 weather so nobody was going anywhere except all the "essential workers" who had to work. Now that the deep freeze is over, I bet we'll see them climb again. Colin Wilson Why don’t you phone Israel and ask them to give Palestinians the vaccine and if they then refuse then we will have a discussion. Withholding treatment and yet blaming the victims is a bit rich. Even for you! Majd Faraj Tamimi Well my family in Israel and I get what I need to know from them the hospitals are filled with Arab kids with Israeli doctors treating them ! U ask an Israeli Arab if they love Israel and the Israeli Jews they will say yes I have often had Israeli Arabs round my table.

Buy it here: A wise Doctor once wrote shirt

[phoenixyfriend]

The Family Tree is... a Disaster

Takes place in the TCW Leverage AU. It does contain a few deviations, namely that the narrative ended up shifting Plo's role in Ahsoka's life, and Ventress's role overall.

This is mostly just dialogue where I outline the fuckery that is the disaster lineage family tree, not actual fic. It stemmed from my incessant need to justify "25yo Obi-Wan somehow got custody of 9yo Anakin without Shmi dying."

Warnings for: canon character death (modernized), canon violence (modernized), and references to Nazis and white supremacists (Palpatine collects WWII weaponry as a parallel to his canon display of Sith artifacts in his office as chancellor, and Ahsoka thinks it's sketchy)

----

"Okay," Cody says, setting down a glass of whiskey as he drops into the seat across the table. "What the hell is your family tree like?"

Obi-Wan raises an eyebrow, and continues cleaning off the definitely-not-stolen crystal komodo dragon he'd won in today's job. "I beg your pardon?"

"You and Skywalker," Cody says, gesturing between Obi-Wan, who is just sitting there minding his own business, and Anakin, who is across the closed-for-tonight bar and doing something inadvisable on the pool table. "You've said he was your brother, and mentioned raising him, which, sure, I'm over twenty years older than my youngest brother, people take over parenting roles all the time. But you have different last names, have mentioned stepfamilies that the other doesn't have, reference things as 'your aunt, not mine,' and I am just getting... very confused. I figured it was personal and I could leave well enough alone, but considering your older brother almost shot us today--"

"Okay, Xanatos is not my brother," Obi-Wan immediately says. "Just. I just have to stop you right there. Xanatos was a student of my father's for a time, but I promise he's not family. Nobody except maybe Komari would consider him even close, and she doesn't count since she's in prison for life and the farthest thing from stable."

Cody gestures. "That, Obi-Wan. That's what I'm talking about. I don't even know who Komari is."

Obi-Wan purses his lips in a failed attempt to not smile. "Do you actually want the explanation? It's long and unnecessarily complicated."

"So's mine," Cody snorts. Obi-Wan waits, patient and pleasant, and is rewarded when Cody sighs. "Please."

"Of course, my dear. To answer your first question, though, Anakin is my half-brother." With a smile, Obi-Wan digs a piece of paper and a pen from his briefcase. "So, center of the chain: me, my father Qui-Gon, my grandfather Yan, and my great-grandfather Yoda. With me so far?"

"Easy enough. Do you have to go back that far?"

"Great-grandfather Yoda is still alive and regularly escaping the old folks' home to terrorize younger relatives, so yes," Obi-Wan says. "Given that you may just meet a tiny, meddling relative of mine when he's bored, we do in fact have to go back that far."

"...how old is he?"

"We don't know for sure. A hundred and eight-ish is the best guess." Obi-Wan shrugs. "It's not a huge deal, mostly he likes bothering Anakin these days. Anyway, grandfather. Yan Dooku. Inherited a minory duchy from his maternal grandfather decades back. Mostly hangs around there because he's on terrorist watchlists in the States."

"Oh, lovely."

Obi-Wan grins. "Trust me, it gets worse. Anyway, grandfather never actually married, but spent most of his time with his 'best friend' Sifo Dyas, who died about a decade back."

"Gay?"

"Well, we know that now, but they got together in the seventies, and this was back when they were both working government jobs, so, you know. It happens."

"Good to know," Cody says. "So, Yoda's kid is Yan, who inherited a title and land from a maternal relative, and had a life partner but never married. With you so far."

"All of Yan's kids were adopted," Obi-Wan continues, sketching out the first branch away from the Yan/Sifo partnership. "Rael was actually grandfather's cousin, maternally, and ended up in his custody after getting orphaned at five. These days, he does most of the stewardship duties at the Serenno Duchy. His daughter Nim is teaching military history at a university in Germany."

Cody nods. "Uncle number one is named Rael, technically your dad's cousin, has a daughter. Got it."

"About a decade after Rael, they adopted my father, Qui-Gon. He and grandfather fought, frequently, but they did care for each other. My father was a botanist, did bio-engineering. We'll get back to him later, because he's where things get complicated." Obi-Wan made sure to leave room around the name. "Just a few years older than me was--is--Komari Vosa. She is... serving a life sentence. I think she fought Jango once."

"She fought my father?"

"To the best of my knowledge, they both almost died, yes," Obi-Wan says. "She's in maximum security these days. She was an assassin. I'll get a call if she breaks out, and I'll let you know along with everyone else."

"Bad news auntie, got it."

"Last adoption, sort of, is Ventress," Obi-Wan finishes off. "A few years younger than me, is technically grandfather's personal assistant and does secretarial work and the like, but we all know he's planning to leave as much of the inheritance to her as he is to the rest of us. She's aggressive and unpleasant, but she takes care of him and hasn't actually threatened to kill any of us yet, so that's fine."

"How'd she join?" Cody asks.

"Ky Narec was a friend of Qui-Gon's; Ventress was his daughter. Ky died a few years after Qui-Gon did, and Ventress was a mess, after." Obi-Wan shrugs and scratches that connection into the little sketch of a family tree as well. "Grandfather offered her a job until she got herself back together, and then she just kind of... stuck around."

"Youngest aunt, more of a cousin." Cody summarizes. "Now we go back to your father?"

"Qui-Gon Jinn was a man of many skills," Obi-Wan says drily. "Adequate birth control was not one of them."

It's almost a pity that Cody wasn't drinking anything, because going by the way he chokes, Obi-Wan's pretty sure the spit take would have been spectacular.

"I'm sorry," Cody says. "Can you repeat that?"

"I was an accident," Obi-Wan says, not even bothering to hide his smile. "So was Anakin."

"So that sounds like... a story."

"It is," Obi-Wan confirms. "My biological mother has never been in the picture. They had a fling, she wasn't sure if she'd want to abort or give me up, just that she wasn't ready to be a parent, and Qui-Gon volunteered to take full custody so she could go back to her life after the birth. I've never met her, but I kept her family name. You can consider her irrelevant beyond that."

Cody nods.

"So, when I was about a year old, Qui-Gon reconnects with an old flame, they get married two years later. Step-mother number one is Tahl. Lovely woman, I absolutely adored her, and she had a daughter, my stepsister, Bant Eerin."

"I met her, right?" Cody asks.

"Yes, she was the doctor who patched up my bullet wound a few months ago," Obi-Wan says. "With the giant glasses that make her look a little fish-eyed."

"She was nice."

"She is," Obi-Wan agrees. "At any rate, that was our family for a while, and then Tahl died when I was fourteen. Bant wanted to go to a magnet school for medical studies, and Qui-Gon's grief was... not optimal for taking care of multiple teenagers, shall we say, so Bant moved in with her paternal uncle, Kit Fisto, and Kit's son Nahdar. He's a marine biologist, incredibly friendly, and has no idea of any of the rest of my side of the family's questionable activities. If you ever meet him, you will pretend that we are a legal firm with a team of security consultants."

Cody raises a brow. Obi-Wan despairs. "Best you could do?"

"We're not that likely to run into him." Obi-Wan draws out a new line. "So, Qui-Gon deals poorly with grief. This is also around the time that Xanatos came around to ruin our lives a little. He was a very rich and unpleasant man, but he's dead as of four hours ago, so you don't have to worry about him. Or his son."

"His son?"

"Anakin handled that," Obi-Wan says. "Thoroughly. Granta Omega is no longer an issue. He's not dead, but... well. Anakin has his ways. Er--I should probably mention Feemor; he was my father's assistant at the university for a long time. Anakin and I still call him our uncle."

"Also a person to avoid mentioning criminal activity to?" Cody prompts.

"Well... no, but only because I don't think he'd care. The man is, forgive me, more of a 'walking sweatervest' than I am. He's a very bland and unassuming man. He once described himself as the background character of the soap opera that is my family's existence."

"Sounds like a charmer."

"Oh, he's very kind and clever, and witty as well. I adore him, and he really is family. He's just also very, very normal. Not boring, but..." Obi-Wan trails off and shrugs helplessly. "He's an editor for an agricultural research journal. Also not someone I anticipate us running into."

"Noted."

"Right, so, Qui-Gon dealing poorly with his grief didn't involve much drinking, but there were a few months of him trying to... lose himself in the pleasures of the flesh?" Obi-Wan tries, and then deflates at the look on Cody's face. "He was slagging around. Shmi got pregnant with Anakin, who was born when I was sixteen. Shared custody at first, Qui-Gon got him weekends and every other holiday, that sort of thing, and then they got married because they actually did like each other well enough, and it was easier on the taxes."

"So Shmi is stepmother number two."

"Shmi is stepmother number two, yes." Obi-Wan sketches in Anakin and Shmi. "About nine and a half years after Anakin was born, Shmi and Qui-Gon were in a car accident with... well, it later turned out it wasn't an accident, there was a hitman called Maul involved, he's actually Ventress's second cousin or something, I don't know. Grandfather handled most of that problem. Qui-Gon died, Shmi was in intensive care, and I got custody of Anakin as his nearest adult relative. We weren't very close before that, because I was off at university by the time he was old enough to form memories, but that changed once he started living with me. I more or less raised him as a single parent from that point."

"This is why he jokes that you're like a father to him."

"Precisely," Obi-Wan says. "Shmi took about a year to recover enough to move again, and grandfather covered the costs. She still had to live with a dedicated carer and attend daily physical therapy. At that physical therapy, she met Cliegg Lars, whose son Owen was also a patient there. They hit it off, and three years later, they married. When Anakin refers to his stepfamily he's talking about the Lars out in Nevada."

"Nevada?"

"They have a farm. A very, very normal one. We don't drag them into our activities, unless we have an at-risk person who needs a safe house." Obi-Wan pauses, and then decides this really needs to be stressed. "This is important to me and Anakin, that we don't get them involved unless there's absolutely no other choice. Shmi's been through a lot, and the Lars are busy enough running the farm."

"Works for me," Cody says. "We've got enough safe houses that it shouldn't be an issue. I'm guessing this story doesn't end there, though."

Obi-Wan grimaces. "My own love life has been... a bit of a mess."

"I already know about Kryze, at least."

There's that. "I was temporarily engaged to a friend, Siri Tachi, shortly after high school. We were in a relationship, but this was mostly something done to appease a relative of hers that was getting overbearing to the point of absurdity, and she couldn't just cut them off. We broke off the engagement after the relative passed, and we're still friends."

He notes that down, then adds the other embarrassment of his early years. "First marriage was actually a drunken joke between myself and my best friend when we were in college. We got it annulled a few months later because we just didn't have time to drop by the courthouse before then, and he's actually engaged to Asajj now."

"Asajj?" Cody asks, watching in fascination as Obi-Wan tries to mark in both his own short marriage and the newer, long-term engagement without crossing any lines. He settles for just writing the name twice and including an asterisk with 'this is the same person.'

"Ventress," Obi-Wan clarifies. "Yeah, Quinlan's a fun guy. His little sister, Aayla, treats Anakin like a beloved younger cousin."

"Are they also off-limits for criminal activity?"

"No, Aayla's the one that taught Ahsoka how to vent-crawl," Obi-Wan says. "And I'm pretty sure Quinlan has contacts in every major government branch, criminal organization, and Fortune 500 company on the planet. I reach out to them regularly."

"Resources, then."

Obi-Wan nods. "Some time later, I married Satine. We had a son; you've met Korkie. We split due to incompatibility a year and change before Qui-Gon's death. Satine doesn't engage in criminal activity, but Bo-Katan is..."

"I've met Bo-Katan. I know what she's like, Obi. You don't have to explain."

"She works with Maul sometimes."

"...the man who killed your father?"

"Yes. It's all very stupid and convoluted." Obi-Wan still writes her in. "So, that's them. Korkie goes to boarding school, and I try not to involve him in anything. Anakin and Ahsoka like to teach him self-defense and the like, but Satine is adamant that he stay unaware of my less legal dealings until he's an adult."

Cody shrugs. "Makes sense. Is that every--wait, no, Skywalker's married."

Obi-Wan grins. "Yes, and Padme's got twins on the way."

"I was there when he told us," Cody says drily. "He was very loud about it. Okay, how does Ahsoka fit in?"

"Hold on, I forgot Beru," Obi-Wan mutters. "Owen's fiancee. Same rules as the Lars. Okay, you asked about Ahsoka. Right. So. Um."

He dithers. Cody waits for him, and then Obi-Wan just gives up. "Ahsoka, dear, would you like to explain how you joined the family, so to speak?"

Ahsoka looks up from whatever she and the boys are doing--there are multiple beer glasses and straws and duct tape involved, and Obi-Wan doesn't really want to know--and then flips off the table and over to Obi-Wan and Cody. She looks over the family tree chart, and then says, "Oooh, did you tell him about the cult?"

"You were in a cult?" Cody demands.

"No, Komari was. She was head priestess or something. I dunno, it's why she's in prison and stuff."

"I did not tell him about the cult," Obi-Wan mutters, already regretting this. "The Bando Gora aren't a problem anymore. I've already gotten to explaining how you and Anakin know each other."

Ahsoka rolls her eyes, steals his pen, and starts sketching in around Quinlan's name, over by Asajj since Obi-Wan's section is too crowded. "Okay, so, Quinlan's adopted. His dad is Tholme, and Tholme's dad is Plo Koon. Plo Koon is good friends with my Auntie, Shaak Ti, who raised me. They live next door to each other, out in the country, and I'd play in his yard a lot, because he had puppies, and he took me to visit his bees. Whenever Auntie needed a babysitter, she asked Quinlan or Aayla to do it since she knew and trusted them, and Aayla needed pocket money."

"This is so unnecessarily complicated," Cody mutters.

"It is!" Ahsoka chirps. Her grin is far too sharp. "So, this one time, Aayla was watching me when I was fourteen, and she was just helping me with my physics homework. BAM, the door slams open, and in stumbled Skyguy with his arm missing. I've never met him before, and my first introduction is him shortly after he's gotten an unplanned amputation."

Anakin, on the other side of the room, giggles. Obi-Wan just sighs. The Fett brothers appear to be in the land of 'horrified fascination.'

Ahsoka revels in it. "There's blood everywhere, I'm screaming, Aayla's panicking, Anakin's halfway to unconscious and insisting we can't call the hospital, and nobody can get Obi-Wan on the phone. Quinlan's in another country, and Auntie Shaak and Uncle Plo are at a movie, so they've both got their cellphones off. Tholme was faking his death at that point to get away from an incident with the Irish Mob, so we didn't even try him."

"What the actual fuck," Rex breathes.

Ahsoka continues with relish. "We get Bant to pick up, and she's there an hour later with Padme, because Padme knows how to drive the way Skyguy does, and the entire drive there is just Auntie Bant on speakerphone telling Aayla how to stop the bleeding and get him stabilized while Padme's screaming at traffic at the top of her lungs."

"I owe Aayla a fruit basket," Anakin muses aloud. "The anniversary of her saving my life is coming up, it's warranted."

"Five years, baby!" Ahsoka crows. She fist-pumps.

Obi-Wan just drops his head into his hands. "You're killing me, children."

Anakin shrugs, grinning. "You know, I think Fett Senior might have been involved in that fight."

"My shitty dad cut off your arm?" Rex demands.

"No, I think he was busy fighting the Interpol guy," Anakin says. "But he was definitely there. I think. Blood loss kinda got to me after a bit, but I'm pretty sure Jango Fett was there, and also Boba might've been hiding in the getaway car?"

"I need another glass," Cody mutters. He doesn't stand up, though.

"Wait," Rex says. "So who cut off your arm?"

Anakin shrugs with an unsure noise. "Someone tried to convince me it was Grandpa Yan, but he was in the middle of a court case in Italy for some kind of parole violation when it happened, so he had an alibi."

"...did he actually violate parole?" Cody asks, and Obi-Wan thinks he looks like he doesn't know if he actually wants an answer.

Ahsoka shrugs. So does Anakin. Obi-Wan carefully looks at a spot behind Cody, and doesn't explain anything about wine tastings used as covers for illicit arms deals.

"The arm?" Rex prompts, sounding a little desperate to get back to the question he likely thinks is the most important.

"I still say it was Skeevy Sheev," Ahsoka chimes in.

"It wasn't Palpatine," Anakin snaps.

"Your creepy older friend who took you to operas and gives you fancy gifts and knows way too much about swords who was conveniently there to talk to the police and cover for you so you didn't get arrested for getting in the middle of a gang war in the first place, yes," Ahsoka says, dropping into a chair and sighing dramatically. "The guy who definitely hasn't been trying to convince you for a year and change that your wife is cheating on you with your older brother."

"Ahsoka!"

"What? He is."

"Anakin," Rex says, "your life sounds like a trainwreck."

"I'm not going to assume a frail, elderly man cut my arm off!" Anakin protests. "Even if he wanted to, he doesn't exactly have the muscle for it!"

"Grandfather's older," Obi-Wan points out, even though he knows it won't help. "And he definitely still could."

"Ha!" Ahsoka shouts.

"He could have hired someone?" Cody suggests. "Doesn't need to do it himself, if he has enough money."

Obi-Wan has a sneaking suspicion that Cody is deliberately stirring the pot as revenge for Anakin sending him eighty-seven cat memes inside an hour during last night's dinner.

"You all suck," Anakin declares. "Also, what the hell do you mean 'knows way too much about swords,' Ahsoka? You know way too much about swords!"

"Yeah, but I'm like ninety-percent sure that his antiques are Prussian and mid-century German military officer dress uniform relics, and pairing that with the Nazi pistols he's got on display--"

"He's just a history buff! And his family's German, of course he prioritizes that region, it's not like he doesn't have Russian or French or English antiques in there too, it's all sides of the war and--"

"I'm just saying he's almost definitely sending me sketchy glances like he thinks I'm planning to steal the silver on the three occasions you've had me with you when you stop by, and I'm pretty sure it's got less to do with my criminal record and more to do with me being, you know, not white."

Anakin looks ready to blow, so Obi-Wan interrupts. "Ahsoka, you were explaining how Anakin passing out on Aayla and scaring us all half to death led to your friendship?"

Ahsoka blinks at him, and then sticks her tongue out at Anakin and turns back to the chart. "So basically, Skyguy had to recuperate in Uncle Plo's living room for a week or two, and I kept showing up to bother him because he was bored and nobody would give him a laptop for 'security reasons,' because he had to lay low and stuff. He made me help him sketch out designs for a prosthesis and do all the writing for the math he had to do for the 3D printer, and we got to chatting."

Ahsoka hops up and back onto a table, legs swinging below her. "I decided he was cool and started following him around while he was getting used to only having one hand, mostly because I was bored. He showed me how to hotwire a car, and explained the best places to put a bug if you were looking to make it sneaky, and he picked my pocket to show off so many times when he was walking around Uncle Plo's house that I made him teach me that, too. And, uh, then Aayla found out and they got into a shouting match about it and decided they both needed to teach me parkour so I could get out of any mess I got myself into, since I was obviously going to follow them into a life of crime."

"And you did," Anakin says, far too proudly. "You're the best thief in this half of the country."

"Only because Aayla moved out east."

Anakin rolls his eyes and pulls Ahsoka into his side, digging his knuckles into her skull. "Best thief! You are the best thief! Be proud of yourself!"

"Let go!"

"Never!"

Obi-Wan sighed heavily and rubbed at his forehead. "Children, please."

"You're not my dad," Ahsoka growls out at him. "Skyguy, I'm going to bite you!"

"Good luck, the only arm you can access is the one that's going to break your teeth."

Ahsoka shrieks in outrage and stomps on Anakin's instep.

It's almost funny, for all that Obi-Wan's seen it play out a million times before, but the really interesting part is seeing Rex's look of fond dismay.

Obi-Wan thinks he might be adding a branch out to the Fetts soon. He's not actually sure if Rex is interested in Anakin or Ahsoka, and he's smack dab between them in age, so that's not a help either, but... well. The expression is familiar enough.

"Please tell me you don't match-make," Cody mutters to him.

"No, I plan to let the pieces fall where they will," Obi-Wan responds, just as low, and far more amused. "I'm simply trying to predict where those landings are to be."

Cody looks at him, and then back at the roughhousing trio, and sighs heavily. "You know, I really didn't think that you technically being minor royalty was going to be the least convoluted thing in your story, Obi-Wan."

He laughs, because it's true. "I'm first in line to inherit the title, since Rael denounced his claim. Nim isn't interested, and Qui-Gon's dead, so... I'm next."

Cody makes a face. "Delightful. I'm guessing that's not a connection we can safely make use of."

"No more than the Kryze or Naberries, I'm afraid." Obi-Wan claps him on the shoulder. "Chin up, I've plenty others in the metaphorical rolodex, all far less legitimate and far more amenable to work with our little outfit."

"Rolodex, really?" Cody snorts. "You're not that old."

Obi-Wan smiles winningly. "You don't know how old I am, Cody. All my IDs are fake."

"Anakin's twenty-four, and you're sixteen years older than him, going by the story you just told me," Cody points out. "I do know how to do basic math, Obi-Wan."

"I had to try," Obi-Wan admits. "I threw a lot of information at you all at once; I'd hoped you missed some of the ages in there."

"I have eight brothers," Cody scoffs. "And literally dozens of cousins, plus niblings, uncles, aunts, and so on. I have experience on this."

"If I asked you to list of the age of every single relative you have, you'd be able to do it?"

"Do you want me to draw a chart? I can draw a chart."

Obi-Wan can't help but laugh. "I'd be delighted, my dear."

Cody rolls his eyes, but Obi-Wan thinks--it's hard to tell in the dimmed lights of the closed bar--that there's a hint of a blush on the man's face. Obi-Wan lets himself slouch to the side, drops his head to rest on one fist, indolent debauchery in every line of his body. Cody does his best to ignore him, but Obi-Wan knows how to smile lazily and blink slowly and draw a man in.

(The whole 'indolent debauchery in every line of his body' phrasing is Anakin's, from back when he was a teenager trying to read highbrow literature to impress a cute girl... and to come up with new insults for his older brother.)

"So," Cody says, with a cough meant to somehow distract Obi-Wan from whatever's showing on the man's face. "Why, uh, why is your grandfather on terrorist watchlists?"

"Well, he didn't initially do anything," Obi-Wan says. "He was just a gay man who didn't hide it quite well enough, and had too much money and too white a face for someone to just call the cops on a faulty report. The Red Scare was technically over by that point, I think, but if a few people made suggestions that he was more loyal to the country that gave him a noble title than to the United States... he received a few warnings, of course, and it could have all blown over..."

"But?"

"But my grandfather is not a man to do things by halves, and instead decided that if the government was to list him as a threat, then he would oblige and make himself a threat," Obi-Wan finishes. "Living up to their labels, rolling with the assumptions, whatever you'd like to call it. It all irked him, and so he made some incredibly questionable decisions to make the government's lives harder. Some weren't bad, like donating to anti-war foundations that were protesting the Gulf War and the interventions in Yugoslavia, that sort of thing, and some were... nobody really looks well on gunrunning, you know."

"For fuck's sake..."

"Indeed," Obi-Wan chuckles. "Ironically, he has minimal opinion on the optimal form of economics, for all that virulent xenophobia and the remnants of anti-communism were involved in the whole mess. He just wanted to create problems for the people that were causing him problems."

Cody shakes his head. "I want to judge that, but you've met my father."

"Jango Fett is, indeed, also not a man to do things by halves," Obi-Wan agrees, attempting to nod gravely but breaking into a smile at the end. "That man is absurd."

"At least he's not dragging Boba into it anymore," Cody mutters. He drags over the fresh sheet of paper and pen that Obi-Wan offers him. "Okay, right, let's start with Jaster..."

[pyroclastic727]

Owl House said fuck capitalism

So this episode was interesting. Lilith pretty much killed her sister. Why the fuck would she do that?

Even more interesting: why is Belos like that? How did Hooty put his head through one of those guards? Who the fuck is the Titan, and why does everyone like him? And how are these all tied together?

This episode was a metaphor for capitalism

...and another delicious step towards radicalizing the youth into dismantling this fucked-up neo-feudal system.

We’ll start with Belos. 

Emperor Belos is a weird name, don’t you think? We all thought it was spelled “Bellows,” but it wasn’t. In fact, it’s five letters, starts with Be, ends with os, and describes a megalomaniac emperor that restricts people’s freedom in order to accumulate wealth for himself.

Sound familiar?

Emperor Bezos Belos created capitalism. He saw the beauty of magic and decided to make himself the most powerful.

Belos created a system that destroys the masses and boosts his power.

 I’m dipping into fan theory a little, because the fan theory fits. We know that people get branded with coven magic that makes it so they can only specialize in one area. We know that Belos is the most powerful witch in the Boiling Isles. We know that the excess magic, magic created by restrictions, has to go somewhere.

It’s the same system that many viewers see all the time. A job takes up all your day and tires you for the night, so you can only do one skill for the rest of your life. Jeff Bezos is the most powerful man in the United States. Excess money, money taken by restrictions, has to go somewhere.

The magic goes to Belos, like how the money goes to Bezos. Belos created capitalism, and he won it.

The guards aren’t real. 

Look, we’ve never seen their faces. They’re all the same. Why would you work so hard to get to the top, just to become a nameless, faceless killing machine?

Oh, also Hooty stuck his face through one. There is nothing under the armor.

Why? Well, it’s the same reason you see all those celebrities going around flaunting their wealth and bragging about how hard they worked. Like all those songs about how they grind every day and work harder than everyone else while you’re out clubbing, and that makes them dope. And then you take a closer look at them and see that they had a small loan of a million dollars fueling them, or an entire talent agency behind them, or their dad was a famous country star in the 80′s. 

They’re fake. They’re hollow. They’re a ploy created by the capitalist emperor to try to delude you into working harder. 

Let me put this into perspective. I guarantee that every single one of you has heard stuff like this: “Hard work makes you successful.” “I put in the work, and that’s why I’m successful.” “If you work hard enough, then you can be as successful as Mark Zuckerberg.” 

And unless you’re a robot or really lucky, I’m sure all of you have failed at this. Maybe they told you that hard work would make you good at math, so you spent 22 hours a week working on calculus, only to pass it by 3 percentage points and have it destroy your perfect 4.0 GPA. Maybe they told you that if you talked to people enough, then you would make friends, so you spent a lot of time talking to people, only to end up lonely and friendless. Maybe they told you that if you did well in school, you would get a good job, so you spent all your time working hard to be a good student, and then ended up in a soulless, dead-end job.

The guards are there to delude you. Look, who really gains from you being productive? The answer is the ruling class, the CEOs, the government, the bourgeoisie. It has always been that. All you get from working is a paycheck that lets you survive. They get a paycheck that lets them get rich. Just like Belos gets the magic and productivity of the specialized coven witches.

The guards are there to trick you. The truth is that nobody can join the Emperor’s Coven. It’s just there to make you think that hard work will make you successful. Then you spend your entire life working hard, trying to prove to the person in charge that you’re worthwhile. You give your whole life to the Coven, and they give you nothing. 

Magic is supposed to be something you pursue for fun. Being skilled at things, being good at something beautiful...that’s supposed to be something you do because you want to. But they took that and made it into a source of productivity. It doesn’t matter if you make good content. All people fucking care about is if you upload the day of premiere, if you make a lot of content quickly, if you maintain a million different conversations with strangers who expect you to be the most interesting person in the room. They don’t care how it hurts you. They don’t care how you crack from the stress. How you cry when you think no one can see you, and then you check your phone and someone can see you, someone did see you, and you have to put on your face and be the charming, magnetic person they want you to be. (oh by the way that’s why I wasn’t online much last week)

And it ruins it. Suddenly you can’t watch The Owl House without being stressed. You can’t make any content. You can’t make spells as powerfully as you want to. Your passion is replaced by perfectionism and insecurity, a voice telling you to keep being the best at what you do, or else they’ll forget you and let you die.

There’s also the Titan. 

So nobody has mentioned him before, because in addition to the Boiling Isles being a hellscape full of witchcraft and queerness, it’s also full of atheists. 

But suddenly we have people saying all this shit about him? Shit like, he gave witches the gift of magic, and then they learned to use it in a civilized manner, since being uncivilized was disrespectful?

I mean, first off, that’s fucking wrong. The island gives people magic. The island, which just so happened to be shaped like a titan-sized human. But the island/titan gives everyone all types of magic. Hell, even Luz gets to use magic, and she’s human. 

It sounds really fucking familiar. (tw for discussion of homophobia and colonialism and misogyny). It sounds like when the news is on and they show some Tr*mp supporter talking about how fetuses have more rights than people and it is their holy duty to take away a woman’s control over her body and force her through unbearable pain and into an 18-year commitment she didn’t want to make. It sounds like all the times people tried to say homosexuality should be illegal, citing a single line in a book written two thousand years ago and heavily edited by a European king. It sounds like all the times people said God wanted them to conquer, to own the entire earth, to force the other races into pain to support them.

This is that bullshit thing people do where they commit awful sins and justify it by citing the will of God. 

Or, it’s the Coven using religion as an excuse for evil.

Look, the Emperor’s Coven is clearly colonizer-coded. Saying that people’s original form of magic was wild (and showing a picture with the same joyous, rowdy energy of an 18th or 19th -century Black or indigenous party), and that it was God’s will for them to be “civilized?” Sounds like that thing that powerful white people did where they went and murdered people and forced them into their twisted capitalist system. God, gold, and glory, is what they said, because history books just love to omit the gore.

Lilith is passing the abuse cycle along. 

You know, like a good little colonizer. God I fucking hate her. She’s a MILF, in the sense that she’s a Mother I’d Like to Fling off a cliff. 

Ah, enough screaming about how much I want to drown Lilith in a tub of Hooty’s mucus. Let’s go into why I want to do that, and how she took the evils of capitalism and just...adopted those.

So, Lilith is sick and twisted for what she did to her sister. But, uhh, that’s the point. You see, there are so many other people out there like Lilith who would do the exact same thing, if given the chance. These are the people who do mean things when the teacher isn’t looking, and then act nice and try to frame you. These are the people who will hate you if you’re better than them. These are people who would do anything to bring you down, if you dare outperform them.

It’s greed, my friends. The mental illness that capitalism blesses us all with.

Lilith herself said it: she dedicated her entire life to the Coven. What she wanted was to be the best. And she almost was...except for her own sister. Someone who lived with her, annoyed her at home, bested her at school. Someone she could never beat, no matter how hard she worked. And her sister was younger than her, too! How insulting was that? Lilith wanted to be the best, and someone in her exact situation did better than her.

Lilith was insecure. And it consumed her.

But why? Why does insecurity consume her? I mean, no one can be motivated by insecurity forever. Well, not unless someone conditions it into you.

The lovely thing about the capitalist system is the morals it teaches you. Things like: “You’re only useful if you’re the best.” “Being school smart makes you smart, while being social smart or sports smart or creative smart or fandom smart is worthless.” “Your worth can be quantified by numbers and is based off arbitrary measures like your income or your grades.” Things that can and will drive us crazy if we let ourselves believe them.

And it did drive Lilith crazy. She got so twisted by a society that said being good at magic is her only worth. Look, Lilith used to be good at things, probably. She was good at sports. At times, she slips up and does an okay job of being Eda’s sister. She has a powerful presence when she’s in a room. And she’s wicked good at manipulating people. 

But that didn’t matter. Lilith bought into the lies. She let herself believe that magical skill was the only way to measure her worth. And since she needed to be the best, she hurt Eda for it.

The beautiful thing is, Eda didn’t buy that. "It’s my power, kid. And before you showed up, I spent my whole life wasting it.” Is what Eda said, as she used up the last of her power, the last of her life, to save Luz. In her final moments, she proved that she’s not like them. She’s stronger than them.

None of this matters. Not magical prowess. Not the hierarchy. Not the promise of joining the Coven and having more power than anyone else.

The only thing that matters to Eda is her family. Her real family. Her Luz, King, and Hooty. And by extension, Willow, Gus, and Amity. Those are Eda’s real reason for fighting, for dying: to protect them. Look, there’s no way she would’ve come out of that fight alive. She has a family, and her love for them is stronger than greed or jealousy or capitalism. 

Lilith never understood that. She thought the water of the womb was thicker than the blood of the covenant. Or, that the water of the womb and the blood of the covenant are stronger than the bonds of found family. She thought it didn’t matter if Eda loved, her, only if the Emperor loved her. Fucking bitch.

And now, a little something to worry about, before we go. Amity Blight. The girl who wanted to join the Emperor’s Coven more than anything, who dedicated her whole life to doing well in school, to being the best, to being perfect.

And then she met Luz. She fell for Luz. Now she’s in a tricky place, where habit and conditioning want her to join the Emperor’s Coven, but her heart wants her to do the impossible and destroy capitalism.

She wasn’t in this episode. Funny that being injured and unable to work ended up saving her from watching her future mother-in-law die. So she bought some time.

But Luz’s true mom is dead. This is the second mom she has lost, and she’s only fourteen. As powerful as King and Hooty are, Luz needs Amity. Luz needs Amity to support her and help her get back her mom.

So Amity has to make a choice. Fear and insecurity, or love and a high chance of death? 

She’ll probably choose death. Because that’s the message that this family-friendly show is giving us kids. Fuck capitalism. All you need in life is to do what makes you happy and be with the ones you love.

[starlightshore]

Hm should do some small changes to my Dani design. (I see people call her Ellie a lot, might have her use that too, less confusing that way... but then again both being named Danny is still really funny.)

First off, I'm giving her glasses. That's literally The Reason Danny can't recognize his own face. Classic superman identity trope.

Going into Dani's back story, the parents got hired by GiW soon after Dani was born. The family moved to some other state to do government related testings- my assumption that the universe difference here was something Vlad did that cause the GiW to be formed earlier, not sure what the exact context is. (A bigger plot is here but idk details yet)

Dani never grew up with Sam and Tucker, she's popular at the schools she's at but doesn't have anyone super close. (Maybe they move all the time?) The Fenton parents of this timeline Aren't Evil persay, but they're stuck with government officials who put a lot of pressure onto them.

For whatever reason (idk yet) Dani gets caught up in the GiW stuff and they use her to test the portal gun on her, Dani can't separate her parents involvement, family is torn apart. It's a mix of Classic Fenton nonfunctional mishaps and the parents believing it was the right thing to do for Dani, considering how serious/corupt the GiW are in my take.

Anyway, Dani is friends with Vlad who isn't rich or well off. Maybe Dani has portal powers? (Cause. Portal gun. Cool) and Dani is on the run. (Thus ghosts are always following) This vlad is more like TUE Vlad, softened and a good role model. Dani still trusts Jazz (who shed be extra close with) but can't see herself staying with the Fenton anymore.

She jumps realties. (likely a Vlad of main timeline's fault, but portal Dani could be involved, making this jump more on-purpose...?) Vlad takes her in, Dani assumes he's like her world's Vlad. Later when she learns he's evil, not sure how she'll side. (As she is a version of Danny who's rejected her family, she's going to be selfish and less morally righteous. Ya know, troubled Teen) she likes the power he teaches her, the money she can flaunt. Vlad was there for her. It'll be hard to convince her he's evil, and harder to get her to change sides even then.

It makes Danny have a head ache trying to unpack all this. This is a girl version of himself (talk about awkward) who has everything he could of wanted- popularity, lots of friends, acceptance, skills and money. Danny's jealous. But he doesn't see that Dani is jealous of him. Danny's family, friends, they all love him. When he's Phantom, everyone adores him or fears him.

Dani and Danny are at heart the same person but they've lived completely different lives. Nature vs. Nurture argument. The two are dumb teenagers who don't know how to communicate. They're arch rivals and jerks to each other. It's pure chaos and frustration and it's gonna end with them being good friends. At the end of the day they're both Dan and Halfas. Nobody (except Vlad but he is not a Dan) could understand what's that's like.

Danny and Dani once past their rivalry make a Dan club for Dans only. I want Dan high-school hijinks

[centaurianthropology]

Brief Thoughts on Critical Role C3E11

Below that cut, my dudes.

Chetney is a werewolf as many suspected, and is specced much better to be a blood hunter!  Which also means we still don’t have a rogue, but do have two characters who are competent at lockpicking and checking for traps.  Still, a rogue-less party?  Interesting, and a very different vibe.

Speaking of parties, do we perchance have a party name?  Seems like we at least have a placeholder in the form of the New Nobodies.  I get the feeling this isn’t the permanent name, but that the final name for the group may evolve out of that (rather than be a reference to Bertrand Bell).  And I’m kind of into that.  I like the idea of having this placeholder name harkening back to what Ashton’s lost, and this sense of lost family slowly reforming, but I also like a new name coming out of that, evolving naturally, and becoming something on its own rather than something referring to the past.

We got a little more Orym this episode, which was great, but I still feel like he’s easily the cagiest of all of them about his backstory, and I include secretly-a-werewolf Chetney in that estimation.  Orym left Zephrah shortly after the attack, and saw ‘the best people’ he knew get cut down in front of him.  I think this is definitely feeding into the general fan theory about Orym’s husband dying, as he was likely another one of the guards.  Leaving Zephrah and the memories would make sense.

And we also get a very clear next destination: the Heartmoore Hamlet, where Jaina Hexum’s contest will be held, and where the next step in Orym’s quest lies.  I feel like Orym’s thing is going to take a long time to resolve, but the Hexum affair is more likely to resolve quickly, freeing Ashton up to travel.

But before then, we have a ball.  I love how enthusiastic Laudna and Dorian are about it.  The more I see them together, the more I love their dynamic.  I also love that Dorian is finally able to get some of his own back, after being the fish out of water rich kid for the majority of the campaign, he gets to be the one who knows what he’s doing in this environment.  And I’m so very excited that he’s decided that not only is Ashton going to be coming to the ball, but I get the terrible, hilarious feeling that Dorian really wants to dress Ashton up pretty for it.  I desperately want the most gloriously awkward scene of the makeover.  Given how much Ashton clearly detested the spa day, it’s going to be a hell of a thing.

Even so, I feel like the Ball could be a very dangerous place to be.  Being amongst all the power players, including the Treshis, means that they’re all under threat.  But more than that, I think Eshteross is going to attend in person to help, and may be hurt or killed to keep the Treshi family safe.  This could be one of the first huge events for the party, driving them into fleeing from Jrusar, taking Jaina up on her offer as a means of getting out.  It also puts some of them in a bind.  Imogen wants to study more.  Dorian’s brother is stuck in Jrusar.  If Eshteross dies or is taken out of the equation, it’s almost certain that the Treshis will make a power play, bring in Paragon’s Call, and declare martial law.  I could see this being the real first arc: the party having to leave Jrusar, and coming back later at a higher level to finally clean the place up, displace the Treshis, and possibly help support a more transparent government.

But it’s not just the big events that I found interesting.  The spa day served as a glimpse into the characters that we haven’t gotten before.  Dorian was in his element, hanging out with Laudna, introducing Chet to the joys of massage, etc.  Orym put up with some of it before needing some alone time to do (naked) katas.  Ashton hated every minute except the bath and maybe a nap, but had a knee-jerk rejection of letting anyone working there touch them.  Fearne got groomed by the person who usually worked on poodles, and is now infinitely fluffy.  FCG got the full treatment of oiling and buffing, and probably looks the best of all of them.  Chet had an unexpectedly great time.  Imogen kept mostly away from everyone, but was enjoying herself from a distance.

It’s such a good glimpse into who these people are, and I am looking forward to seeing them get out on the road just for this.  The CR cast does great character things with downtime scenes, really imbuing life in watch conversations and late-night chats around campfires.  Having an urban campaign has meant we haven’t gotten a ton of these sorts of moments, just the characters being themselves in a relatively safe environment.  I really want to see some one-on-one conversations between characters outside of their original groupings.  I want to see Dorian make Ashton over, and actually have a conversation about their lives as two genasi and how different they are.  I want to see Imogen talk with Chet about having to control something inside yourself you don’t really understand.  I want to see Fearne and Chetney talk about aging.  I want to see Ashton and Orym talk about lost family.  There are so many accidental parallels between these characters, but we haven’t had the setting to really dig into them.  So count me excited for the ball, but even more excited for them to shake loose of Jrusar for a while and get out on their own on the road.  Possibly becasue they have to, possibly because they just chose to.

[wayv2728]

Rich Boy AU x WayV

In honor of 100 followers!!

Please acknowledge: I’m not writing about their actual families or lives, these are just roles I could see them in.

I beg of you guys, please send in rich boy AU asks cause I’ll be basing the answers off of these characters.

Kun

His dad’s a big shot airline pilot

He makes bank so his mom was always a full time mother

Very much a mommy’s boy

Super proper and polite

Probably dates people but through his parents others setting him up

Only because he’s a little nervous and doesn’t know how to talk someone up

Class President 100%

Has had 1 serious partner and they broke up because they moved away

PDA is not his thing

Very cautious about his public image

His parents want him to find someone while he’s young and commit to them

As I said cautious about his image & wants to keep a pristine reputation but the second you’re out of the public’s view oh the way he’d kiss you

I just know he’s an amazing kisser

Ten

His parents would be politicians

Like he’d be the Governor’s son or something (talking about America here cause idk how other governments work)

His parents want nothing more than for their son to be good & have a good reputation

But he’s actually very rebellious

His parents just happen to be really clueless about what their son gets up to

Not the type to settle down at all

Except he’s lowkey a hopeless romantic

Like if someone were to make him laugh and smile a lot he could definitely catch feelings

Relationship would start as either FWB or a hookup, never actual dating

Doesn’t want his bad boy reputation getting ruined

But as a s/o he’d be really affectionate and romantic

You try to hold his hand in public & he’d move your hand away until nobody was looking, then he’d hold onto it tight

Wears a necklace you bought him cause it has some really sweet secret meaning that nobody knows except you & him and it makes him feel special

Winwin

The son of some big hot shot lawyer

Golden boy

Everyone wants their kid to grow up like him

He’s a good guy, like actually

Probably has had a couple of serious relationships so he’s kind of an expert

Has a dark side tho? Like not a dark past or secret drug dealing job but like there’s def a side to him the public doesn’t see

Like he seems all sweet and innocent but then boom he’s really possessive and kinky

Really knows how to love someone

The kind of guy that seems perfect on paper & maybe something falls through and you break up but find each other again

Parents would set him up on dates all the time cause they want him to have a family & be successful

Lucas

He’d be the one with the family that opens a mega corporation

Didn’t get a lot of attention from his parents growing up so he resorts to being quite the player

Prob lost his v card at a young age (16 or so)

Has a new woman on his arm daily as it seems

It would be really hard to convince him to actually date someone

Just not the commitment type

Kinkyyy

Hard to tame

Overall just a really great lay but he’d be difficult to get as a boyfriend

Not saying it’s impossible but it’s not easy

If you did manage to tame him and get him as a boyfriend, he’d be a little iffy about it first

Oh boy the jealousy he’d get

He’d have a hard time telling and showing you how he feels but tbh he’d get into fights about you

Someone’s bullying you? Beats them up. Flirting with you? Beats them up. Etc.

Eventually you find out it’s because he cares about you & doesn’t know how to tell you

Xiaojun

Probably the son of some super successful actor or model

Another golden boy

A great student

Top of his class, president of some clubs, etc

Would def choose to go to an Ivy League school & 100% gets into most if not all of them

Hasn’t really thought about dating

Has had hookups and dates every now and then but nothing serious

Hopes to do some kind of international relations work in his life

Travels a lot

As a boyfriend he’d be really careful and cautious

Wants to make sure he’s doing everything right

Probably lots of small gifts from him

Isn’t afraid to tell you he loves you once he knows it for sure

Shows you off to everyone!! Would be hesitant to do so at first but he loves it really

The type to ask you to help him make an ex jealous or feel bad about dumping him

Hendery

He’d be the one with the strict & overprotective parents

Like they only want him dating other rich people (he wouldn’t care at all & would just date whoever made him happy)

Probably moved from China to your city when he was a kid

Comes off as charming and prince-like but is really mysterious

Not one who likes commitment

Like lots of hookups, one night stands, etc

He could commit to someone if they started as a FWB type thing

Like it was a hookup but he had a really great time and you become friends and he’d start to realize he’s caught feelings

Doesn’t really know how to love

Wouldnt realize he’s in love for the longest time

Honestly he’s not the smartest when it comes to love but someone talks some sense into him

If you were his s/o, he’d be super affectionate

Really into PDA, like “let’s make out in front of the paparazzi”

Does things for the sake of pissing off his parents

The type to run off to Europe with his s/o and half of the money his family’s saved for his college

Yangyang

Trust fund baby type

Parents own some kind of charity or something & are philanthropists

Has quite a bit of experience with dating but from 2 or 3 serious partners he’s had in the past

Spoils his s/o like crazy

Lots of gifts (mostly clothes & jewelry)

Didn’t get enough attention from his parents so he’s a little needy but understandably so

Likes the thought of having a sugar baby

Loves the feeling of providing for someone so he would prefer dating someone lower or middle class

Wants to be taken seriously as a grown up but nobody does

Would try and start his own business at a young age which would end up failing cause he’s young & naive but in his failure he’d learn and eventually start a new business that would take off rapidly & be a major success

He wouldn’t seem like the kind of guy you’d want to take home to meet your parents but I feel like he’s grown a lot and would want more than anything to prove himself to his own parents as well as yours

[nothoughtsonlynat]

Human (Natasha Romanoff)

Human: Chapter 1

A/N: Troyes, France is 6 hours ahead of NYC so 7pm there is 1pm in NYC. For the sake of this fic we’re going to pretend that the Battle of New York lasted quite a few hours.

*This is my first ever fic and I wrote it at 3am so bear with me

WARNINGS: swearing; mentions of weapons; violence; panic attack; anxiety; my crappy writing; and I think that’s it (lmk if there’s anything I should add)

Barcelona, Spain; January, 2012:

The repetitive ticking of the clock registered in my brain before my eyes even opened. I didn’t need that clock to know what time it was, of course. It was 4:30 am— the same time I've woken up everyday for the past twenty-five years of my life. I no longer need to wake up this early, yet it’s a habit so deeply engrained in my framework that it’s seemingly unbreakable. I roll out of bed and make my way into the dingy kitchen with light footsteps. With some quick math I figured that I got barely two hours of sleep last night, but that’s more than usual. I started the coffee machine and asked with a sigh, “Would you like some coffee or are you just going to lurk in the corner?”

The leather-clad stranger with an eyepatch stepped up to the kitchen island opposite of me and responded, “I wouldn’t mind a cup. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that you knew I was here.”

“Well, you know what they say about old habits. You got a name?”

“You can call me Fury. We have a lot to talk about, Eight.” I slid him a mug of cheap coffee and gestured for him to take a seat. 

“Then we’d better get started so you can get the hell out of my apartment.” He simply chuckled in response and I could already feel my patience wavering.

Two Hours Later:

“Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division? Really, dude?”

“Yeah, it’s a mouthful. Trust me I know.”

“I’m sorry that you came all this way for nothing, Fury, but there’s no way in hell I'm working for some government spy circus.”

“It’s technically an extra-governmental spy agency-“

“Doesn’t matter. I’m not joining,” I said, cutting him off.

“So, you’re just gonna hop from one shitty apartment to the next until you die? That doesn’t seem like a great life.”

“Better than the one I lived before.”

“You aren’t the person to live in hiding. You’re the person who thrives in the action and lives to kick ass, and we both know it.” When I didn’t respond he continued, “I’ll leave you my card. When you change your mind, which you will, you’ll know where to find me. You don’t have to be the bad guy anymore, Eight.” With that he slid off the stool and left my apartment, leaving me with nothing but my rapidly spiraling thoughts and a black business card.

Troyes, France; May, 2012:

It had been four months since Director Fury came to my apartment in Barcelona. We’d kept in contact and he hasn’t given up on me joining S.H.I.E.L.D.. I'm living in my third apartment since then. Wow…those landlords must really hate me. I was watching the seven o’clock news when I saw something that made me choke on my Cheerios. “An alien invasion?! What the fu-” My Cheerio-muffled exclamation was interrupted by the ring of my burner phone. “Hello?”

“Eight, you watched the news recently?”

“Uh yeah, I'm watching it now. You fighting aliens now, Nicky?”

“Okay first of all, I told you to stop calling me that. Second, yes… aliens. I’m forming a team of…extraordinary people to help protect against these threats and they could really use a hand to finish off this fight.”

“I may be weird as hell but I ain't ‘extraordinary’, Fury. I don’t wanna join your band of misfits.”

“Alright, how about a compromise? You fly your fancy jet here right now and help them out and if you still don’t wanna join once the battle is over, you can go right back to France and I’ll stop bothering you about joining.” After a few seconds of silence I agreed. 

“Fine, but I’m not gonna change my mind. Wait, how do you know about my jet?”

He gave a hearty laugh and said “I know everything, Eight. You should know that by now.”

New York, New York; 96 Minutes Later: 

I flew my jet into the city, making sure to take out a few flying Chitauri in the process. We don’t need to talk about how I got my hands on a German jet that can fly 2100mph. I saw a few interesting characters standing in a circle fighting off an endless sea of aliens. I maneuvered the jet and— wait…is that guy wearing blue tights? Is this what Fury meant by extraordinary? Whatever. I landed in the street about 20 yards away and killed the engines. I hopped out and started jogging towards the group. A couple of them turned around, probably wondering who the hell the chick in the black uniform is and— whoa that’s a beautiful woman. After realizing my steps had literally faltered in a mini gay panic, I slowed to a walk and said “Y’all need a hand?”

“Depends on whose hand it is,” replied the redheaded source of my panic.

“I’m a friend of Fury’s. He practically begged me to come save your asses.”

“Fury doesn’t beg,” she said in a doubtful tone.

“Not typically, but I'm just that awesome. If you don’t believe me then call him up but I’m gonna go kill some aliens.” With that I took off down another street where there was a group of the repulsive bastards. After unloading all of my magazines into Chitauri bodies, I switched to my swords and daggers. After another hour or so of fighting, there were no more aliens in sight. I started jogging toward the rich dude’s tower when I saw said rich dude falling through the rapidly-closing portal. I stopped next to Mr. Blue Tights and the buff blonde guy with the hammer when the big green dude grabbed Mr. Rich Dude from the sky and landed next to us. The green guy yelled, waking Mr. Rich Dude up with a start. “What the hell? What happened? Please tell me nobody kissed me. Except for her, she’s pretty hot,” he said nodding toward me. Just then the redhead jogged over to us and eyed my blood-soaked form from head to toe. 

“See something you like, Red?”

“No. I’m pretty sure I'd be classified as a sadist if I liked the sight of that much blood,” she said with a raise of her eyebrow.

“Yeah that’s fair.” She shook her head at me with a small smirk. There was barely a second of silence when Mr. Rich Dude spoke up. 

“Anybody want shawarma?”

Three Hours Later:

I had gone to the Triskelion after the band of misfits apprehended Loki. Agent Hill showed me where to park my jet and directed me to a room so I could shower and stay the night if I wanted to. I had put on black jeans, a white tee, and a black jean jacket, all of which had been in a to-go bag in my jet. I was toweling off my hair when someone knocked on the door. I opened the door to see none other than the one-eyed-wonder standing there. “What can I do for you, Nicky?”

“The Avengers are being debriefed in Conference Room 6B in ten minutes. You should come.”

“The Avengers? Is that what you’re calling them? That’s cute. But I'm not an Avenger and I don’t want to be an Avenger, so no thanks.”

“You should come anyway.”

“I don’t actually have a choice, do I?”

“You know me so well, Eight,” he said with an amused grin.

I walked into the conference room and the Avengers were already there. Steve Rogers, Clint Barton, Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, Thor, and Natasha Romanoff—whose names I learned from Hill— were scattered around a large table, along with Fury. Romanoff eyed me from where she was standing and arched a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at me. I squinted my eyes and wiggled my eyebrows in response, and I could see her stifle a laugh. “What’s your name?” She accompanied the question with a blank expression, which made me feel oh-so-special. 

“That’s a very personal question, Miss Romanoff. Let’s slow the pace, please.”

“You know my name but I can’t know yours? That doesn’t seem fair.”

“The world isn’t fair, Miss Romanoff, and I love a good mystery.”

“If you two are done flirting, we have business to attend to,” interjected Fury.

“Right, my apologies, Nicky.”

“Don’t call me that, Eight.”

After an excruciating 43 minutes and 27 seconds, Fury finally let us leave. I was so close to freedom when that unbelievably sexy voice called to me. “Eight!” Romanoff hastily walked towards me in an effort to catch up.

“Yeah?”

“Is your name actually Eight?”

“If you want it to be.”

“Why are you so damn stubborn?”

“It amuses me, Red.” There was a brief silence during which both of us were trying to figure out if the conversation was over. 

I was about to leave when she continued, “So that’s it? You’re just gonna leave?”

“Well, no. I’m going to stay the night, steal some really expensive jet fuel, and then leave in the morning before Fury can get up my ass about joining his little team.”

She rolled her eyes and responded, “Why won’t you join the Avengers? And why won’t you tell me your real name?”

“It’s just not my style. I’d rather fly solo.”

“You ignored my second question.”

“Then maybe you should take the hint and stop asking.” With that I turned around and started walking away, but a hand on my arm stopped me dead in my tracks. Alarms started going off in my head, and I'm pretty sure Romanoff was saying something to me but I was too caught up in the memories of beatings, punishments, and psychological conditioning to register it. After a few of the longest seconds of my life, the white of my vision cleared up and the voice telling me ‘physical contact is strictly forbidden’ faded into the background. My heart was still hammering in my chest and I was trying to keep my breathing steady despite the inevitable panic attack trying to drag me under, I regained my neutral expression and said. “Sorry, did you say something?”

“Are you okay?” She had a concerned expression and if I wasn’t so blinded with anxiety, I would’ve appreciated how cute the furrow of her eyebrows was.

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just gonna turn in. It’s been a long day.” I turned around and walked back to my temporary room at a brutal pace. As soon as the door closed behind me, hot tears raced down my cheeks and I lost the ability to breathe. It was gonna be a long night.

3:21 am:

I finally managed to calm myself down and stop the panic attack after almost four hours. Well, I passed out because I couldn’t breathe but it did calm me down. Trying to sleep would be pointless, so I decided to leave before anyone woke up. I didn’t really have much to pack so I grabbed my duffel bag and left the room. I made it to the corridor attached to the landing pads and ran into the one person I really didn’t want to see. “What are you doing out and about, Red?”

“I’ve got places to be and things to do. Were you just going to sneak out in the middle of the night like a teenager with a rebellious streak?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I’m doing, actually. Do you need a ride? Where are you going?”

“Madrid. Fury said I could hitch a ride on another plane that’s headed for Germany.”

“Well I’m going to France if you wanna ride with me. My jet will get you there a lot faster.” She studied me for what felt like way too long, probably debating if I would try to kill her or not. You know how spies are with their trust issues.

“What the hell, why not?”

And that is how I ended up in a jet with “Candy Shop” playing over the speakers and Natasha Romanoff in the copilot seat yelling at me to, and I quote, ‘slow the fuck down.’ “Why would I slow down, you psycho?! That’s the whole damn point of this thing!”

“Where did you even get a German jet this fast?”

“Germany.”

“No shit Sherlock. How did you get it?”

“I went to Germany, stopped in at the local speedy-jet dealership, and walked out with this beauty.”

“Sarcasm is a defense mechanism, you know? You’re only being like this to keep me from seeing the real you. You built walls. You want everyone to think you’re fine when in reality, you’re falling apart.”

“Okay…um…there was no need for that, Dr. Romanoff. I can find my own therapist, thank you very much. And don’t go pretending you’re all healthy in the head, Miss Assassin.” It was quiet for all of five seconds before we both burst into laughter.

Madrid, Spain:

I landed the jet at the local S.H.I.E.L.D. base and killed the engines. Romanoff and I removed our headsets and I stood to help her get her bags. “Welp, I’ll see you around I guess.” I really wasn’t good at this type of thing. Or any social interactions, really. Twenty-four years in a cell will do that to you.

“Will I? See you around, I mean?”

“Um, I don’t really know, honestly. I’m not part of S.H.I.E.L.D. so we won’t just run into each other or anything but…”

“Why won’t you join S.H.I.E.L.D.? I mean what else are you doing?”

“Ohhh, I see. You just love me so much that you don’t want me to leave. You’re gonna miss me so much-” I was cut off when she threw her backpack at my head. “Hey! You’re lucky I caught that! Freaking crazy woman.”

When our laughter died down she said, “Well I should probably go. Thank you for the ride.”

“Of course. Hitchhikers are always welcome aboard my beloved jet.” A small smile appeared on her face and she stepped forward to give me a hug but she must’ve seen my body go rigid because she stepped back. She might’ve said something but the voice in my head was too loud for me to understand her. I don’t know how long it was before I unfroze but when I did, she was gone. I walked to the front of the jet and started the journey to France.

[themurphyzone]

PatB Oneshot: Poor Unfortunate Soul

Summary: Brain doesn’t think Pinky would be a very good villain. Pinky decides to prove him wrong (but mostly he wants Denny's).

AN: I’ll be honest, Dark Pinky isn’t for me. So how to compromise writing a villainous Pinky with normal Pinky? Well...you’ll see. 

AO3 Link

Pinky gasped at the TV, crumbs of popcorn falling out of his mouth. Brain stopped chewing and looked away from the screen, unable to stomach the scene of Lupin and Sirius forcing Pettigrew out of rat form as he attempted to flee the Shrieking Shack. 

No matter how many times he’d seen Prisoner of Azkaban, Brain always found it uncomfortable to watch Pettigrew transform into a pathetic, sniveling human who acted like he hadn’t sold his own friends out to a homicidal madman.  

Sure, Voldemort was the villain while Umbridge was the personification of government corruption, but there was just something downright insidious about Pettigrew. 

Pinky’s eyes were blown wide open as Pettigrew pitifully tried to plead his case. The simpleton was always so surprised about this plot twist no matter how many times he’d seen this movie.

The more he pondered, perhaps Pinky was the exact reason he found Pettigrew worse than the larger threats of the Harry Potter world. The man played into the worst of rodent stereotypes with his cowardly and backstabbing nature.

But Pinky?

Not a single disloyal bone in his body. It was a lesson Brain had taken to heart after his disastrous second birthday. Pinky was far too sweet and simple to even think about betrayal. 

Tears flowed down Pinky’s face as Lupin transformed into an emaciated werewolf, so Brain discreetly nudged a pack of Kleenexes his way. Pinky flashed him a grateful, wobbly smile, then reached for a tissue and blew his nose. 

Pinky always cried at this part. And while Brain found the scene emotionally gut-punching too, he considered himself above displays of crying during movies. 

Mufasa’s death didn’t count. Dirt always lodged in his lacrimal ducts whenever he watched that scene. That was all.

Brain’s fists clenched as the cowardly Pettigrew abandoned everyone to die. 

Though his escape was an essential plot point for the rest of the series, Brain wished the protagonists could’ve caught Pettigrew and delivered justice for betraying those who called him a friend.

He knew how the movie played out, but Pinky acted like he was watching it all for the very first time. Sometimes, watching Pinky when he didn’t care what happened on-screen was much more interesting. Especially when Pinky insisted on not skipping Order of the Phoenix. 

Pinky hugged his knees, tail draped tightly around him as the Dementors attacked Harry and Sirius. The rest of the movie would be loaded with those undead abominations. Brain had learned from unfortunate experience that Pinky would have nightmares if he didn’t cut off the fear before it took root in his subconscious. 

Slowly, Brain moved towards Pinky, careful not to make a sound lest Pinky catch him in the act. He took a deep breath to steel his resolve, placing a hesitant hand on Pinky’s back. 

Pinky turned to look at him. 

“Eyes on the screen,” Brain commanded. It was easier to do this when Pinky wasn’t watching him. 

Pinky obeyed, humming softly as Brain patted soft fur. A long, flowing tail wrapped around a crooked one. Pinky sat up a little straighter. 

The Dementors wouldn’t haunt Pinky’s dreams tonight. Not as long as Brain had something to say about it.   

o-o-o-o-o

“-and I’m so happy Sirius and Buckbeak got away! D’you think I could ride a hippogriff? Why are they called hippos when they’re not hippos anyway? I don’t think wizards know their animals very well, Brain.” Pinky’s chatter continued into the ungodly hours of the morning. Only the people unfortunate enough to work early morning shifts on Saturday would be awake at this time.

Brain rolled onto his stomach, covering his ears with his pillow to block out all the extraneous noise. One con about taking nights off from world domination was that his body just didn’t want to sleep even when he was tired, and Pinky’s exuberance only amplified the issue. 

“Troz! Prisoner of Azkaban is my favorite out of the Harry Potter movies. But my favorites are also Sorcerer’s Stone and Chamber and Goblet...oh! And Order has Luna Lovegood of course! Love her! What’s your favorite, Brain?” Pinky asked. “Ooh, you shouldn’t lay like that. You need to breathe!” 

The pillow was completely ineffective as a sound buffer. Brain was sorely tempted to keep up his current position out of pure spite, but he had to give up and lay on his side so he wouldn’t suffocate.

“No favorite. Hippogriffs are fictional. Hippo is Greek for horse and does not refer to a hippopotamus in this context. You think cows cluck and chickens moo, Pinky. Now go to sleep,” Brain sighed, squeezing his eyes shut. 

Perhaps he could trick his exhausted mind into believing Pinky wasn’t there if he couldn’t be seen. 

He had an urge to stay awake though. If his subconscious latched onto hippopotamuses, he’d just have that nightmare with the rich hippo couple and Rockefeller baby all over again. He shuddered at that memory. The pain and humiliation from that hippo-sized booster shot had been oddly vivid. 

“Okay. G’night, Brain.” The bed shifted as Pinky flopped onto his back. 

All was quiet. 

Brain curled into a more comfortable position, ready to drift off to a dream world where he was an emperor on a golden throne, Pinky was dressed in royal finery while leading a resounding chorus of We are the World, and all knelt before their authority. 

“Brain?” 

And there went the dream. 

“What?” Brain snapped. Part of him wanted to knock Pinky out himself, but that would require moving his arms. He didn’t want to move out of his current position.

“Just pondering. Poit,” Pinky yawned. “Before sleep ponderings. Those kinds are the best, Brain. Cause they get weird and tangerine-y. Bet you get those too.” 

It was true. When his plans weren’t derived from Pinky’s inane ramblings or current events, they were often the product of pre-sleep thoughts. While he wrote down all he could remember afterwards, the plans pulled from those tangents tended to be the craziest and illogical in hindsight. 

He tried not to rely on them too much, but if his conqueror’s block was high or creativity levels were low, he didn’t have much choice.

“Yes,” Brain confirmed. 

But his curt answer wasn’t enough to deter Pinky. 

“Cause I was pondering about villains,” Pinky said. “Like Pettigrew. Cause what if I had something that makes me a villain?”

As much as Brain wanted to dismiss the idea of a villainous Pinky due to the sheer absurdity of the concept, he supposed it wasn’t entirely out of the realm of possibility either. 

But Pinky as a villain? A mouse who gave up his soul for the sake of Brain’s desires and argued against promoting harmful cigarettes to children? 

It was just ludicrous. 

“Pinky, you lack many prerequisites for proper villainy,” Brain said. “Except for the dramatics. That’s the only trait you have in common.” 

“Oh. Well, I could certainly try,” Pinky replied. 

Yes, and someday pigs would evolve and develop flight capabilities. 

If he were in a clearer state of mind, he would’ve argued out of obstinance. But right now, it was incredibly early on a Saturday morning and he wanted nothing more than to sleep. Discussions on villainy and world domination could wait a few hours. 

“If you can prove me wrong, you can select the next restaurant we’ll go to,” Brain yawned.  

Pinky rarely got to choose the restaurant, given Brain’s sophisticated palate, but at this point he was willing to try anything to get Pinky off his back. 

Then Pinky went from figuratively being on his back to pressing against it, his tail curling around Brain’s. Pinky’s jaw rested against the back of Brain’s head. The added pressure released a tenseness around Brain’s shoulders, one that he’d been previously unaware of. 

“Denny’s,” Pinky murmured, nuzzling the back of Brain’s ear. The sensitive appendage flicked. Nobody was around to witness that involuntary reflex, so Brain let it pass. “A Grand Slam with pancakes and syrup and bacon n’ eggs…” 

Within seconds, Pinky was out like a light. He wouldn’t remember this conversation, too busy thinking with his stomach instead of properly pondering with that fluffball of a mind. 

With Pinky’s warm fur against his back and soft narfs against his ear, Brain’s thoughts gently trickled away and yielded to peaceful sleep. 

o-o-o-o-o

Though it was probably noon by now, Brain still didn’t want to open his eyes. Why bother? No scientists to pester them, no leftover plans or materials to hide away so they wouldn’t be discovered, no tedious mazes to run on Saturday. 

Pinky had gotten up sometime before him, and the space beside him was empty, giving Brain room to stretch out in whatever way he liked.  

Then he heard a harsh scraping noise, like someone was dragging something heavy across the counter. That wasn’t unusual for Pinky if an object caught his short attention span for some inane reason. 

However, there was also the sound of laughter accompanying the noise. Pinky was giggly and bubbly to a fault, but this brand of laughter was different. 

Almost malevolent. 

A chill ran up his spine, but Brain ignored the feeling. Pinky’s evil laugh was still firmly in Saturday morning cartoon villain territory, he told himself. 

Even if he sounded a little too good at being evil. 

Apparently, Pinky had remembered the bet after all. 

Brain slowly opened his eyes, about to find Pinky and tell him to knock it off, only to find that it was much darker than it should be for daytime. But it wasn’t dark enough to impede his vision. When he looked up, he found a sheet had been pulled over the entire cage. He couldn’t see anything outside the cage.  

Pinky being secretive would surely spell disaster.  And it hadn’t been there last night, so Pinky was the only culprit. 

The wheel stood empty, a fresh oil can beside it. Brain rubbed his eyes, partly to wake himself up and partly out of disbelief. He was normally a light sleeper, but if he hadn’t heard Pinky maintain his wheel at all, then he must’ve had a deeper sleep than he thought.

He climbed out of bed and marched towards the unlatched cage door, though the corner of the sheet was pulled over it. He would’ve swept it aside, but an unopened cup of Rice Krispies with a half-empty bottle of milk, napkin, and spoon conspicuously placed next to the door gave him pause from leaving the cage. 

His stomach growled. 

“Well played, Pinky,” Brain admitted. A breakfast barricade to delay him? It was rather creative, not that he’d ever let Pinky know. 

The Rice Krispies made satisfactory snap, crackle, and pop noises as Brain poured the milk inside. Then he scarfed down the cereal, half-expecting Pinky to come in and drag him outside for whatever he planned. 

But Pinky seemed content to let him eat first. 

Once he finished eating, he dragged the empty cereal cup and milk bottle behind him. But even his simple two-step plan of throwing his current load into the garbage and finding Pinky were laid to waste the moment he set foot outside the cage. 

For Pinky had unleashed his inner interior designer and completely transformed the room in such a short timeframe.

Large, sweeping blackout curtains covered the windows, even the skylight. According to the digital clock atop the TV, it was 12:30 in the afternoon. But if Brain didn’t know any better, he would’ve believed it was midnight. 

No wonder he’d been so inclined to sleep in. 

Long strands of Christmas lights hung on each dark blue wall, which was otherwise untransformed. Other than the digital clock, they were the only available light source. But rather than their usual festive association, the unblinking reds, greens, and blues lent a rather ominous, otherworldly quality to the room.  

Brain dispelled the fear. It was irrational when he’d traversed the dark lab at night a million times before. 

Perhaps he was focusing too hard on dumping the leftover milk into the sink. With absolute concentration, he pushed the empty cup and bottle over the counter’s edge and into the garbage can below. 

As he backed away from the edge, he saw a large mixing bowl with a stepladder set by it. Wisps of steam rose from the inside of the bowl. This must’ve been the source of the scraping sound he’d heard earlier. Curious, Brain climbed the stepladder and peered inside. 

It was just warm water though. 

He tried not to feel too disappointed. But even if it was mundane right now, surely it had to be here for a reason, right?

Or Pinky didn’t have any reason at all and he just wanted to fill a mixing bowl with boiled water. Both options were possibilities.

As he continued his search for Pinky, he walked past rows upon rows of test tubes filled with brightly colored substances. Electric green, dreadful purple, deceptively calm cerulean…

He wasn’t sure what kind of chemistry experiments they were running, but he wished someone had enough sense to label the test tubes.

Beakers and tubing distorted his reflection, a prickling sensation traveling down his spine and forcing his fur to stand on end. He smoothed it down so he didn’t bear a passing resemblance to a cotton ball. The slightly colder than normal temperature wasn’t helping. 

The distortion was simply a natural refraction of light passing through liquids. That’s all. There was no reason to get worked up over natural phenomena.

That didn’t stop him from leaping back when a wide, smiling human face suddenly appeared as he navigated a sea of flasks. 

His heart threatened to leap out of his chest, his breaths growing heavier.  

There weren’t any humans in the lab right now, he reminded himself. And the smiling face was frozen and unmoving. It wasn’t real. 

Brain cautiously poked his head around the flask, keeping it as a buffer between himself and the unknown threat. 

Against the wall, several of Pinky’s Barbie and Ken dolls sat in a row. The one whose face appeared on the flask was on the far left, her blonde hair in a ponytail. All of the dolls were in colorful swimwear. One of the Ken dolls had a pair of sunglasses perched on his head. 

The dolls were normal. No creepy alterations or missing body parts. 

But as Brain approached and inspected the dolls closely, their positioning seemed...odd.

Yes, their plastic visages displayed smiles as if they were en route to a Miami beach party, but their arms were stretched above their heads or out to the sides in warning. Their legs laid flat against the ground. Duct tape trapped their legs to the ground and wrapped against their torsos, sticking them firmly to the wall and preventing them from falling over. 

An interesting choice for decor, to say the least. 

But enough was enough. Time to find Pinky and force a coherent explanation out of him. 

One of the Barbie's arm pointed to the back of the room, so Brain followed her instruction. It led him straight to Pinky’s dollhouse, and Brain cursed himself for being so taken in with the environment that he’d neglected to check one of Pinky’s favorite toys. 

The pink plastic door was wide open, a deadly invitation into danger. Brain’s ears pricked as a song floated through the air. 

“Things are working out according to my ultimate design,

Soon I’ll have that little rodent and the planet shall be mine!”  

The melody was accompanied by a sinister cackle. 

Brain wanted to barge in and demand Pinky to cease his foolishness immediately, but his fingers curled against the doorframe instead, urging him to heed caution. 

“I can hear you!” Pinky singsonged from behind a section of dollhouse that was curtained off with jingling Mardi Gras beads. “Won’t you come inside so we can talk properly?” 

Brain rolled his eyes, sweeping the bead curtain away. “Pinky, I’m aware of our deal, but this is rather excess-” 

Then his mind registered the scene that lay before him. 

Pinky perched on a stool in front of a mirror as he applied a red coating of lipstick. That wasn’t unusual for him. 

But he was also clad in a backless floor-length dress with thigh-high slits. The dress was dark as night, leaving his shoulders and arms exposed. His fur was dyed a light lavender, save for his messy white tuft, which was gelled so that it stood straight up.

A small seashell necklace sat just above the low cut dress, purple earrings hanging from each ear. Pinky didn’t turn around, blinking coyly at Brain in his reflection, which sported heavy blue eyeshadow. 

He set the lipstick down, and Brain stared at the enchanting movement of manicured, polished red nails as deft fingers picked up a small brush and dipped it into a makeup kit. Then Pinky applied a beauty mark next to his lips.

The next thing out of Brain’s mouth was a very intelligent ‘um’. 

“You shouldn’t lurk in doorways,” Pinky purred, his voice low and sultry. “It’s very rude. Didn’t your mother teach you manners?” 

She didn’t have time to teach him a lot of things, given his kidnapping at an early age, but that wasn’t the point.  

“Why in Ptolemy’s name are you Ursula out of all villains?” Brain asked, once his voice came back. 

At least it explained why Pinky had redecorated the room to resemble an underwater cavern that doubled as a villainous lair. It was an excellent use of space. 

And the Barbies and Kens...those were the stand-ins for the helpless sea polyps.

Pinky must’ve been deriving a lot of satisfaction at seeing that realization dawn on Brain. 

“Why not?” Pinky shrugged. He puckered his lips and kissed his reflection, leaving a red lip-shaped mark behind. “Besides...isn’t there something you’re after? Something you want oh so very much, but haven’t been able to get?” 

Brain scowled. “You know perfectly well that I’m trying to rule the world, Pinky.” 

Pinky snapped his fingers. “And that’s what I can help you with! The only way to get what you want...is to become a human yourself.” 

Well, he’d never considered that before in the pursuit of world domination. There was something about manipulating his genetic code and changing his species that didn’t sit well with him, even though he detested the challenges that came with being a lowly lab mouse.

But it made sense. 

Humans only respected humans. Becoming a member of the dominant species would be an asset for sure! 

But Pinky didn’t have the means to make that happen...right? 

“You don’t know how to manipulate mouse DNA into a human one,” Brain said. 

“Oh my dear, sweet Brain,” Pinky crooned as he stood up, slinking over to Brain. Brain crossed his arms, forcing himself to stare Pinky straight in the eye and not show any signs of yielding. He made a point out of not watching those sashaying hips and tail. “Helping poor, unfortunate mice like yourself is my one passion in life! Why, without it, I’ll have to slink away and become a crazy cat lady! And then who will those poor souls turn to?” 

“A glass of alcohol, I presume,” Brain replied. 

Pinky’s tail came to rest around Brain’s shoulders. The tip tickled Brain’s nose, and he held it away from his face as Pinky pulled him out of the dollhouse and back to the tied up Barbie and Ken dolls. “Maybe, maybe...but a real person they can lean on, I mean. One that knows a little...magic.” 

He flicked his finger at a beaker filled with a lavender substance. The beaker sailed through the air, dumping its contents into the mixing bowl. A purple haze rose from the bowl. 

“That’s telepathy, not-” 

Pinky gently pressed a finger to Brain’s mouth to hush him. “Oh, ye of little faith,” he scolded. “It’s true that I did some rather — how would you phrase this gently — unsavory things before. But I’ve repented! Turned over a new leaf! Seen the light! And now I use my talents for those lonely and miserable enough to seek my services.” 

Then Pinky moved away from Brain, flicking his tail against Brain’s nose to direct his attention to the wall. Pinky wrapped his arm around the Barbie with a red polka-dotted bikini. “You see, Barbie here grew up where she didn’t have much opportunity. Poor girl had to work two jobs to make ends meet, and hardly a cent to show for it! So I offered her a chance to get away from it all...and she took it.” 

Brain gulped as Pinky moved onto the Ken doll next to Barbie. He was awfully convincing, even when the subject in question was inanimate. Pinky played with the ascot around Ken’s neck. “And this young man? Well, he wasn’t having much luck with the ladies. So I gave him a few pointers, maybe a knickknack or two to help speed things along. However…” 

Pinky indicated the tape that bound the dolls to the wall. “I wouldn’t worry about this too much, since you’re a mouse of your word, but sometimes...they couldn’t pay me back in time. So I found a different way to collect their debt.” 

“Yes, I’m sure you have much to gain from restraining children’s toys,” Brain said, tilting his head up to hide his uneasiness. 

They looked less marketable and more like hapless victims wallowing in despair, despite their smiling faces. He chalked it up to the wall’s resemblance to a dimly lit marine cave. 

“Oh, I get some odd complaints every now and then,” Pinky shrugged. “But alas, that’s what happens in this business.” 

He plucked a purple sash from Barbie and wrapped it around his head, fluttering his eyelashes innocently. 

Not that he was fooling Brain. 

But he didn’t have time to process that nonverbal gesture, for Pinky threw the sash around Brain, his tail looping around Brain’s waist. With the sash locking his arms against his sides, he was helplessly corralled to the mixing bowl. He dug his feet into the surface beneath him, but it was no use. Pinky was far stronger than he. 

In physical terms of course. He tried to keep his eyes on Pinky’s face and not his...well, he was a male mouse...he didn’t have...unless he padded...

Stop, Brain. 

A finger slipped under Brain’s chin, tilting his head up. “Not to worry,” Pinky purred, and the room suddenly went from cold to sweltering. “I have your solution right here.” 

To emphasize his point, blue and green test tubes poured their contents into the bowl. The colors melded together, the resulting haze forming a rough image of the world. 

“Here’s the deal. I’ll make a potion that can turn you into a human for three days,” Pinky declared, dragging his finger along Brain’s chin. Now that Pinky’s grip had loosened, Brain ripped the sash out of Pinky’s hands and threw it aside. 

The stroke of Pinky’s finger along Brain’s fur was enticing, and he pushed it away exactly for that reason.  

“Before sunset on the third day, you’ve got to find someone of royal blood,” Pinky said. A golden liquid swirled out of a beaker and formed a crown in the center of the world. It was an image of which Brain had dreamed of for so long. He tried to touch it, but it was far out of reach for him. “Then this charming person has to fall in love with you.” 

That sounded...feasible. Three days was a rather generous deadline. Most of the time, they were on a time crunch between eight to twelve hours.  

Pinky produced a pink felt heart and held it between two fingers. “Then you have to seal your love with a kiss. And not just any old peck on the cheek, but a kiss of true love.” 

A what? 

Brain huffed. Of course this plan would have such a ridiculous stipulation. He’d gotten his hopes up for nothing. 

...and why was he treating this like it was real? 

Because Pinky. 

Yes, that was the only explanation. And not even a rational one. 

“Oh dear, don’t pout so,” Pinky smirked. The expression was fogging up Brain’s mind. “What else is there to seal amour but with true love’s kiss? It’s a tried and true method, after all.” 

He chuckled at his own joke. Brain rolled his eyes. 

“If this certain someone kisses you by sunset on the third day, you’ll have the world permanently. But if they don’t, you turn back into a mouse.” 

Pinky tossed the felt heart into the mixing bowl, the solution emitting a pink puff of smoke. 

“And you belong to me.” 

A dangerous edge crept into Pinky’s tone as he whispered into Brain’s ear, and the appendage fluttered uncontrollably until Brain forcefully snatched it to cease its movement. 

Pinky tossed a hair tie, penny, and eraser nub into the mixing bowl, then leaned against a long pencil case as he awaited Brain’s reply. 

“Suppose I agree to your deal. What then?” Brain asked. 

“Well, there’s the matter of payment,” Pinky admitted. He stretched his lower limbs and tail as he rolled onto his stomach, exposing his long lavender-dyed legs. Brain tried not to watch the motion too closely for fear of hypnotism. “If you want something so badly, something of equal value has to be given. Equivalent exchange, as they say.” 

“And what exactly do you want?” Brain asked, though he knew the answer. 

He’d seen the movie. 

“Your voice.” 

Pinky’s smile was too wide and manic for Brain’s comfort. 

“In other words...” Pinky hummed as he leaned forward, his nose was just an inch away from Brain. “...no more talking, singing, zip!” 

He popped the consonant and mimed zipping his mouth, throwing away an invisible key.  

It was so warm that Brain couldn’t feel his face. 

“Now, now. Don’t be alarmed, Brain.” Pinky stretched luxuriously as he stood up. His tail slinked around Brain’s waist again. “You have your pretty face. And you shouldn’t underestimate the importance of...body language.” 

Pinky’s hip bumped into Brain’s, his leg sliding all the way out of the slit of his dress. He batted his eyelashes and blew a kiss to an invisible audience. 

Brain covered his face, ears flat against his back. He was fine. Just had to think about...something. What was he trying to picture exactly? 

No mathematical formula could save him from the horror that was stupid, sexy Pinky. Curse those mathematical miscreants! They abandoned him in his time of need!

Pinky climbed up and down the stepladder, tossing chemicals and liquids and all sorts of things inside. The bowl rocked back and forth dangerously, bubbles spilling down the sides. 

Brain didn’t dare get close. The inside of the bowl surely were an unholy abomination. 

But that didn’t stop Pinky. 

“Now a dash of zort, a sprinkle of poit! Bubble, bubble, toil and trouble! Fire burn and cauldron bubble!” Pinky cackled, throwing his arms up in the air. “Abracadabra troz! Bibbidi bobbidi narf!” 

The mixture now to his satisfaction, Pinky flicked his finger at a notepad and pen, sending them hurtling towards Brain. 

“Just sign on the dotted line, you poor unfortunate soul,” Pinky said.

Well...playing along couldn’t hurt. Even when there was a biohazard right in front of him. 

And no, the bowl’s contents weren’t the biohazard here. 

Brain took a deep breath and signed his name. 

The moment he finished, the notepad and pen flew out of his hands and into the bowl. 

Pinky wiggled his fingers over the bowl, green smoke rising to the ceiling and seeping past the edges of the blackout curtains to the outside. No smoke detectors went off, though Brain wasn’t surprised. ACME was rather lax on safety protocols. 

“Beluga sevruga, come winds of the Caspian Sea! 

Larengix glaucitis

Et max laryngitis

La voce to me!”

With a wide grin that spread from ear to ear, Pinky climbed down the stepladder and placed one hand on his seashell necklace, the other tickling the base of Brain’s neck. Brain ducked his head instinctively to stop the ticklish sensation, trapping Pinky’s hand under his jaw.

“Now sing.”

It was rare that Pinky commanded. Brain hated taking orders, yet something compelled him to obey.

Those coy blue eyes demanded, so Brain willingly gave.

And he sang.

Though he was hoarse from surprise at first, Pinky’s finger traced the outline of his neck, up his chin, to the corner of his mouth. Brain imagined his voice growing stronger...could see his voice taking physical form, flowing out of him and into Pinky’s seashell necklace.

Pinky doubled over in laughter as an explosion rocked the counter. The bowl sparked and smoked, its base clattering against the surface with loud metallic bangs. 

Brain broke out of his trance as a sludge-like wave with various melted objects slithered down the rim, creeping ever closer. 

He wasn’t taking any chances. 

Grabbing his maniacally howling companion by the arm, Brain quickly bopped him over the head to halt the laughter, then dragged him over to the window for a quick escape. Pinky recovered from the bop and shimmied past the blackout curtain. Brain took a moment to collect the ACME credit card he’d pilfered from an employee several weeks ago, then followed Pinky onto the windowsill. 

Pinky jumped first, safely landing in the bushes below. Holding the credit card above his head, which was no easy feat since the card was about the same size as him, Brain jumped as an explosion rocked the building, and his ears flattened instinctively to shield him from the worst of the noise. 

As predicted, he landed in Pinky’s arms. 

And it was somewhat mortifying now that Pinky’s eyes had gone from coy to blindingly innocent, even with the heavy eyeshadow. Shoving the card between himself and Pinky’s face, Brain climbed out of his arms. 

“Narf! So how’d I do, Brain?” Pinky asked. “Was I convincing?” 

Brain dusted off a bit of lavender dye that had rubbed onto his arm. He hoped it was fur-friendly. “You created a dangerous biohazard, toyed with my perception of reality, and overall you were a flirtatious nuisance.” 

Pinky’s tail stopped wagging. 

“So yes. You were indeed a convincing villain,” Brain said. He tapped the credit card. “And to fulfill the conditions of our original deal, I shall now treat you to Denny’s.” 

He was a mouse of his word. 

“Hoorah!” Pinky cheered. He twirled around in excitement, his black dress swirling around him as he danced all the way to the sidewalk. “Let’s go, Brain! I wanna look at all the lovely pictures on their menu!” 

“You’re going like that?” Brain called after him. Didn’t he want to change out of the Disney villainess ensemble? 

“Well you’re naked! So there!” Pinky stuck his tongue out at him. 

With a sigh, Brain joined his companion on the sidewalk. Pinky skipped over to a patch of white flowers blooming next to the sidewalk, gently cupping the petals and cooing at a ladybug which landed on a blade of grass next to his foot. 

Truly a convincing villain. 

And Brain’s poor unfortunate soul was helpless under his power. 

End AN: I deny selecting Poor Unfortunate Souls over other villain songs specifically for the body language line. You can’t prove anything. 

I HC that Brain would hate Pettigrew more than any other Harry Potter character. I was trying to write a villainous Pinky...somewhere along the way he turned into Pinky Suavo. I don’t get it either XD

There's some folks taking care of the biohazard the mice left behind. Don't worry, the lab's still standing. It's just their problem while the mice get Denny's.