#outdated education system

[inkberrytales]

The Great Mystery of Why We’re Still Packing Schoolbags Like It’s 1950

Picture this: children march into school with backpacks packed like treasure chests and pencils sharpened as if they’re swords for battle, hoping they’ll emerge ready for a world that’s spinning faster than a squirrel on a wheel. But what if the lessons they’re learning today are as outdated as a map to a kingdom that no longer exists? I’ve spent years observing young minds in both the classroom…

[godly-rambles]

this isnt what i normally post but it's important to me that i say this

before you block me, please just hear me out

it scares me how much of alterhuman tumblr (and alterhumans in general) support(s) endogenic systems

systems are people who experienced severe repeated trauma before the age of nine. by removing the trauma factor its impossible to form alters.

before you turn nine, every emotion is a different state of self. (thank you @/quoigenicfromhell for helping me to understand this bit better) essentially you are a different person when you're hungry, happy, sad, scared, etc. when you experience such severe trauma that your body decides it's unsafe for your personalities to merge, THATS when you become a system.

Severe Repeated Childhood Trauma.

that is how systems form, thats literally how it works. the trauma factor is what makes the system a system

i wouldnt say im anti-endogenic, more like i'm endogenic cautious.

again i am all for hearing people out, please tell me your thoughts in the reblogs or comments, but this is just my personal take on it.

i wish no harm to people who identify as endogenic, live however you want to live.

this is how I've interpreted the topic as someone who isn't really qualified to have a take on it, i just wanted to share some of my thoughts.

UPDATE: I've read through the reblogs and comments on my take, and I still dont fully understand the identity itself, but it makes more sense now. Thank you to everyone who helped to explain it, I appreciate your help

I see everyone in the reblogs/comments talking about how being an endogenic system doubles as being alterhuman, but I really don't understand how that could be the case. If anyone's willing to explain it further please do

[nsemkekanews]

Former Law School Director calls for overhaul of outdated legal education system - Nsemkeka

Former Law School Director calls for overhaul of outdated legal education system – Nsemkeka Renowned legal educator and former Director of the Ghana School of Law, Kwaku Ansa-Asare, has called for a radical overhaul of Ghana’s legal education system. He described it as outdated, fragmented, and a colonial relic that continues to stifle innovation and competence in legal practice. Speaking on Joy…

[theresilientphilosopher]

They say DEI means “didn’t earn it.” But what if you were more qualified—and still overlooked? Let’s talk about real merit, hidden bias, and the illusion of fairness. Read now → VisionLEON.com #TheResilientPhilosopher #LeadershipWithVision

[dleondantes]

They say DEI means “didn’t earn it.” But what if you were more qualified—and still overlooked? Let’s talk about real merit, hidden bias, and the illusion of fairness. Read now → VisionLEON.com #TheResilientPhilosopher #LeadershipWithVision

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

love the potential explanations for why demons speak in "archaic" tongues:

time works differently for demons, they took a quick (centuries long) nap and suddenly humans have invented weird new lingo

it's just the natural consequence of being immortal and not terribly interested in the human world. they already took the time to learn to speak Human (random outdated language) when they got their demonic possession license in the 11th cent AD, they're not learning it again

Demonic education system uses old textbooks. Human Studies is a practically obsolete field anyway, there's no money in the budget for updated editions for another millennium at least

all the translation spells were invented by this one nerd who later fell into a wormhole, leaving behind illegible notes and no update procedure

it's a sociopolitical issue. the last push for reform led to a brief period wherein all interactions with human priests/summoners were conducted in 19th century Cockney Rhyming Slang. (the results were controversial)

the humans just seem to enjoy it

[psychemochanight]

Nobody notices anything. So, there's nothing to notice, right?

Even Cass doesn't notice anything when she sees him. He's the same old Dick Grayson. He smiles and jokes. Of course, he's a little irritated about being in the mansion for no reason other than the fact that they had to meet at least once every few months, but he's fine.

Damian updates him on his school, and Dick rolls his eyes and grunts in between comments, knowing that the already outdated education system even in his time remains exactly the same now.

Tim asks his opinion on some programs he's developing. He may not be as good as Barbara's, but Tim knows Dick will easily spot the mistakes he doesn't after having read the lines of code five hundred times. Dick notices the errors just as he thinks (when you are learning the code for the first time, it is easier than when you have it in your head and recite it by heart rather than read it).

Only God knows why Jason is still there—maybe it's the food, maybe he's waiting for something. They barely speak to each other so as not to start fights, but they joke around, which is enough to keep the atmosphere comfortable.

Cass asks when they'll cook together again. Duke wants to join in this time.

Everything's fine. There's nothing wrong with Dick.

They decide to train before everyone goes back out on patrol in their places, Dick and Jason will soon disappear from the mansion and won't return for months, so why not?

Everything is fine, Dick is still joking around with them. There's nothing wrong.

Until the first moment he steps into the training area, he suddenly kicks a mannequin so hard that it literally breaks its neck and the doll's head flies off.

Oh... He's angry.

[helleboretea]

Some observations on the scenes between Dr Langdon, Mel, and Terrence, the autistic patient with an ankle sprain, from an autistic person:

I’ve seen a few people comment of these scenes as the (or a) reason the dislike Langdon as a character, some with the sentiment that this makes him a bad person. I have a very different take. I personally love this storyline, I love the way it’s done. I think they wrote it just this way to illustrate a very important part about the healthcare system (and I’m talking pretty much globally here, cos it’s not just the US), which is that Dr Langdon is missing a vital part of his education. Almost all doctors are. They aren’t being taught about autism or neurodiversity or disability nearly enough, and certainly not how to properly accomodate patients who are autistic. 

I think Dr Langdon comes into the interaction with Terence the way he would any other patient, friendly, upbeat, asking whether he’d prefer Terry or Terrence, and for a neurotypical patient that would probably be a really great interaction. He’s doing the right thing - just not for this patient. And autism aside (omg I never thought I’d say that but gimme a sec), I can understand for healthcare workers how irritating it must be having patients constantly googling their symptoms and trusting what they read on the internet. We’re all for self advocacy, but WebMD can send you down needless spirals and I’ve been there so many times and literally have never had that super rare condition that I convinced myself I’m dying of at 2am. 

So it’s not surprising he get’s irritated, but, again, I’d say he handles it kinda well, in that he at least just leaves the situation and doesn’t snap at the patient or give him some long, shaming lecture. He lets Mel take him. 

Which is where we get to the bit that makes me so emotional. Mel looks at the patient’s chart and points out he’s autistic (identity first thank you!), and it so doesn’t surprise me at all when Langdon says “sprained ankle it’s not related”, because that’s literally what he’s been taught. That’s what all doctors are fucking taught. They’re kinda maybe taught what autism is (the bare bones and probably a lot of it is still outdated), but not how to talk to an autistic person, or what they might need, or even that they will just meet autistic people, no matter what department they work in. 

So it’s not necessarily that he’s ableist, it’s that he literally just doesn’t know. He makes his little comment about treating three other patients while Mel treats Terrence, because he thinks he’s just a “Dr Google”, and moves on. Because the ER is packed and they need to treat patients and ship them off.

(I’m rewatching the scene and Mel legit makes me cry here.) Mel’s interacts with Terrence when she comes in are near perfect. She closes the door and turns down the lights because he’s probably been there for hours and even if those weren’t that overwhelming at first they would be super overstimulating by then. Then she asks him his main concerns, and she listens and takes him seriously when he tells her. I’ve had a grand total of one doctor do this, and it was the safest I’ve ever felt in a medical situation. 

But then Langdon comes back. I’m not gonna lie, when Mel was talking to Terrence, and had made all those little (but impactful) accommodations, then Langdon opened the door again, I had this wave of worry through my body the first time I watched it. I thought it was going to go so differently. I thought he was opening the door and standing there because he didn’t want Mel making accommodations, that it was his way of asserting power and saying we do it my way. And I think you can tell that Mel and Terrence worried about that too. 

Nope. He came to watch. He came to observe his new trainee interact with this patient, because he was curious. He didn’t need to be there. Medicine wise, Mel would totally have it handled. 

Side note - When he asked about the pain level out of ten Terrences reply was so me! I’ve thought that every time someone talks about pain out of 10! How is anyone meant to make that assessment??

At this point you can see him realise he’s in over his head. Mel is clearly so much better equiped to talk to Terrence and make him feel safe and comfortable enough to receive care. But he just watches, in awe. Because to him there’s just difficult patients, who fight you, and make treating them harder, and non-difficult patients. But here he’s learning that there’s a way to interact with this man that isn’t difficult, that makes him feel safe, and allows treatment to be provided. And he wants to be able to do that. That’s why he asks Mel “how did you do that?” Because he wants to be better. He wants to be able to speak to other patients in that way. He clearly wants to be the best doctor, and most of that is in the procedures he does, but he knows that a lot of it will come from how he interacts with his patients too. He chooses in this moment to learn from Terrence and Mel.

Then, when he sees Terrence later to discharge him, he apologises for them getting off on the wrong foot. He doesn’t need to, but he does - because he recognises that he came at the situation wrong. And he wishes him good luck with the table tennis tournament (I’m not sure if it’s implied that Mel told him about this or that Terrence told him off screen, because he wasn’t in the room when he told Mel, and Terrence seems surprised that he mentioned it) and says "okay" with a smile when Terrence offers to teach him how to play. What starts off as a really negative interaction ends so positively. Because of Mel, and because Langdon was eager to learn. That’s why he tells her “you’re great with your patients, you even taught me a couple of things.”

That’s why this is such a fucking excellent scene/episode/series, because the issue isn’t just “oh doctors are ableist” (even though yeah, lots are), it isn’t that black and white. The issue is that there isn’t enough education. People in healthcare aren’t being taught enough about autism and the different kinds of people they’re going to come across (see sickle-cell patient, unhoused patients, victims of abuse, etc.) even if they want to be. That’s why doctors like Mel matter so so so much. That’s also why even though it would be amazing if they confirm she’s autistic, it wouldn’t be unrealistic if she’s undiagnosed. That’s why doctor Langdon says to her that sensitive people are needed there badly. Because she makes those around her better, if they just care to watch and learn.

[the-cosmic-cauldron]

Pick A Pile: How Your Ancestors Suffered & How You Reclaim Your Power In This Lifetime

Pile 1

Your ancestors struggled with financial unpredictability. They experienced extreme highs and lows—rising from poverty to wealth, only to fall back into financial hardship. This instability often stemmed from unforeseen circumstances, such as illness or mental health struggles, which disrupted their financial and career trajectories. Their lives were marked by periods of abundance followed by devastating losses, creating a cycle of uncertainty and instability.

How to Reclaim Your Power:

To break this cycle, you must learn the power of moderation. Burnout is not a badge of honor—it’s a warning sign. Your ancestors pushed themselves to exhaustion, leading to mental breakdowns and even hospitalization. Avoid repeating this pattern by prioritizing balance in all aspects of life: work, rest, diet, and personal time.

Engaging in emotional transformation is also key. Deep inner work—such as therapy, shadow work, and journaling—will help you integrate your light and dark aspects, preventing deep-seated mental health struggles from controlling your life.

Maintaining confidence and physical vitality is crucial as well. Develop a consistent exercise routine and practice daily affirmations to reinforce your resilience. By strengthening both your body and mind, you empower yourself to navigate life’s challenges without falling into the cycles of the past.

Pile 2

Your ancestral lineage was deeply affected by abuse and toxic relationships—particularly within marriages and partnerships. These cycles of dysfunction often left your ancestors feeling trapped, powerless, and unsupported. Many failed to confront the deeper issues in their lives, choosing instead to endure suffering rather than make the necessary changes. Fear, lack of courage, and external pressures—such as societal or religious judgment—kept them stuck in unhealthy environments.

How to Reclaim Your Power:

To break free, you must plan your life with intention. Unlike your ancestors, who often felt stagnant, you are being called to move—physically and emotionally. This may involve relocating to a different city, state, or even country to create a fresh start. Expansion is key.

Most importantly, don’t give up. Your ancestors surrendered too easily when faced with challenges, but you are meant to embody strength, tenacity, and resilience. Own your power. Seek environments that uplift you rather than judge you. Stop seeking validation from rigid institutions or individuals who will never fully accept you.

This lifetime is about embracing self-accountability—not relying on others for your success or healing. Release inherited self-doubt and harsh self-criticism. Believe in yourself. By doing so, you break the cycle of fear and limitation that plagued your lineage.

Pile 3

Your ancestors suffered from a lack of intellectual and personal freedom. Many were prevented from pursuing education, mastering skills, or gaining knowledge that could have transformed their lives. Opportunities were stripped from them—whether through financial hardship, systemic oppression, or restrictive societal expectations.

Their struggles extended beyond intellectual repression; secrecy and unspoken family tensions were also deeply ingrained. Many painful experiences—betrayals, losses, unresolved conflicts—were buried rather than addressed, creating a lineage marked by suppressed emotions and untapped potential.

How to Reclaim Your Power:

The key to breaking this cycle is balance. While discipline and responsibility are essential, you must also allow yourself freedom and joy. Loosen the grip of strict structure and perfectionism. Find playfulness in life—travel, explore, and pursue interests that bring you genuine happiness.

Additionally, reexamine your belief systems. Some of your inherited beliefs may be restricting you rather than empowering you. This lifetime calls for unlearning outdated mental constructs and redefining what truly aligns with you.

Learn when to let go. Not every battle needs to be fought, and not every past experience needs to be carried forward. Earn your knowledge, but don’t let your ego make you rigid in your thinking. Embrace both wisdom and flexibility. By integrating responsibility with spontaneity, you reclaim the intellectual and personal freedom your ancestors were denied.

Pile 4

Your ancestors were dreamers—deeply artistic, spiritual, and idealistic. They had grand visions for their lives but often struggled with follow-through, leading to unfulfilled potential. Many of them lived with regret over what they never accomplished.

Their ability to express themselves and chase their dreams may have been restricted by social ostracization or strict authoritarian rule. They may have been outcasted, silenced, or controlled by harsh external forces, preventing them from fully realizing their potential.

How to Reclaim Your Power:

In this lifetime, patience and pacing will be your greatest allies. You have the potential to build a beautiful life, but you must trust divine timing instead of forcing rapid progress. Rushing will only create setbacks—sustainable success requires careful nurturing.

Prioritize mental and emotional well-being. Your ancestors’ dreams were crushed, in part, because they lacked the support or emotional stability to pursue them. Engage in self-care, therapy, and mindfulness practices to maintain your inner peace and resilience.

Tap into your artistic and feminine energy—whether through music, dance, yoga, nature, or creative expression. These outlets will help you manifest your dreams. Your power lies in softness, creativity, and intuition.

Avoid unnecessary conflicts. Your energy is best spent cultivating peace, rather than engaging in battles that drain you. Embrace serenity, flow, and self-expression. By doing so, you bring your ancestors’ lost dreams into reality—transforming their struggles into a legacy of fulfilled potential.

[hausofodyssey]

✨ Cosmic World ✨

SATURN IN ARIES IS HERE SOON!

On 24th May , Saturn moves into Aries and for a lot of us (including myself) we will be having our Saturn Return. This is a significant astrological event that will shape themes of self-discipline, courage, identify, and autonomy.

Saturn will return back into Pisces on the 1st September to 13 February 2026, then stay in Aries until 2028. This Saturn Return is important for those born between 1996-1999 (and 1967-1969_ when Saturn was last in Aries.

For the past month, I have been conducting research on how Saturn's return will impact individuals (including myself). This includes an brief breakdown of how each rising sign will experience Saturn's return through house placements.

🔥 Aries Rising - 1st House

Themes for you are: identify, self image, personal responsibility

This is a time to own who you are and how you show up in the world. It's about refining your sense of identify, work on your physical body, confidence, and long-term goals. Deep self-discipline. It can also be a time to get into leadership.

Avoiding Saturn's teaching can lead to: Identify crises, burnout from impulsivity, chronic insecurity or lack of direction.

🌱 Taurus Rising - 12th House

Themes for you are: Subconscious patterns, solitude, mental health and karmic closure.

This is a time for you to build a strong inner world through solitude, spiritual practices or therapy. It's about doing the shadow work to heal hidden wounds and letting go of self-sabotaging habits. For you this is a season of energetic mastery.

Avoiding Saturn's teachings can lead to: Anxiety, isolation and self-undoing. Health or psychological crises which forces rest and reevaluation (Look at your 6th house sign and placements to see how you can take care of yourself to avoid health issues).

💬 Gemini Rising - 11th House

Themes for you are: Community, networks, long-term dreams, social responsibility

This is a time to commit to your long-term visions. Aligning with mature, like-minded people and also take leadership in groups or causes you care about.

Avoiding Saturn's teachings can lead to: Have you feeling lost socially or purposeless You can feel like you are outgrowing friends or fear standing out in groups.

🏆 Cancer Rising - 10th House

Themes for you are: Career, public image, authority, ambition

This is a time to take responsibility for your goals and leadership. It is about establishing a legacy and structure your career path. 

Avoiding Saturn's teachings can lead to: Career plateaus, fear of being seen, issues with authority or pressure without clarity.

📖 Leo Rising - 9th House

Themes for you are: Belief systems, travel, education, worldview

This is a time to formalise your growth, study, publish and travel with purpose. It's about building a structured worldview.

Avoiding Saturn's teachings can lead to:  Crisis of belief or direction. Stubbornly clinging to outdated philosophies.

⚖️ Virgo Rising - 8th House

Themes for you are: Transformation, shared resources, intimacy, power

This is a time to master emotional boundaries and shared finances. Heal trauma and confront fear. 

Avoiding Saturn's teachings can lead to: Power struggles, financial loss, avoiding being vulnerable and experiencing deep emotional stagnation. 

💒 Libra Rising - 7th House

Themes for you are: Relationships, communications, contracts

This is a time to take responsibility of your relationships. This could be by committing, maturing, or ending dynamics that are outdated and do not work for you. Learn healthy interdependence.

Avoiding Saturn's teachings can lead to: Relationship breakdowns, loneliness, repeating unhealthy patterns or delays in forming mature partnerships.

🧘‍♂️ Scorpio Rising - 6th House

Themes for you are: Daily routine, health, work, service

This is a time to commit to your health and productivity. Start building better habits and improve your work ethic and environment.

Avoiding Saturn's teachings can lead to: Burnout, health issues, or job dissatisfaction. Life will feel chaotic or burdensome.

🎨 Sagittarius Rising - 5th House

Themes for you are: Creativity, self-expression, romance, children

This is a time to turn your passions into responsibility. Build creative projects with structure. Mature in love or/and parenting.

Avoiding Saturn's teachings can lead to: You can experience creative blocks, unstable love life, fear or failure in personal expression.

🏡 Capricorn Rising - 4th House

Themes for you are: Home, family, emotional roots

This is a time to build or stabilise your home and inner emotional world. Confront ancestral or family dynamics.

Avoiding Saturn's teachings can lead to: Emotional shutdowns, family conflict, housing instability or inner emptiness.

🗣️ Aquarius Rising - 3rd House

Themes for you are: Communication, learning, siblings, local environment

This is a time to become a more effective communicator. Build skills in teaching, writing or even public speaking. It's about maturing in thinking patterns.

Avoiding Saturn's teaching can lead to: Burnouts, misunderstandings, and scattered focus or even issues with siblings.

💳 Pisces Rising - 2nd House

Themes for you: Finances, self-work, possessions

This is a time for building lasting financial security. Define your values as well as developing self-worth through effort and mastery.

Avoiding Saturn's teachings can lead to: Cause money issues, undervaluing yourself, or even clinging on to unstable income sources or materialism.

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

🪐 Overall regardless of where this transit is taking place for you, the return pushes everyone to redefine themes of Aries like what courage, independence, and responsibility mean for you. Saturn in Aries rewards bold discipline and taking initiatives. It's all about mastering your impulses and stepping into your power without being reckless.

🪐 A lot of people in the astrology community tend to be all doom and gloom about Saturn Returns but I think it's just a great opportunity for transformation which will force you to be the best version of yourself and I feel like I have been waiting all my life this moment.

So good luck to all my fellow Saturn in Aries people - take a deep breath, be patient, relax - you've got this! 🌟

[funnygirlthatbelle]

i suspect that a huge factor in the defense of students using gen ai (and academic dishonesty in general tbh) comes from the fundamental misunderstanding of how school works.

to simplify thousands of educator's theories into the simplest terms, there are two types of stuff you're learning in school: content and skills. content is what we often think of as the material in school- spelling, times tables, names, dates, facts, etc.- whereas skills are usually more subtle. think phonics, mental math, reading comprehension, comparing and contrasting; though students do those things often, the how usually isn't deemed as important as the what.

this leads to a disconnect that's most obvious when students ask the infamous "when will we use this in the real world?" they have- often correctly- identified content that the content is niche, outdated, or not optimized but haven't considered the skills that this class/lesson/assignment will teach.

i can think of two shining examples from when i was a kid. one was in middle school when they announced that we were now gonna be studying latin, and we all wondered why on earth they would choose latin as our foreign language. every adult promised us it'd be helpful if we went into medicine, law, or religion (ignoring that most of us didn't want to go into medicine, law, or religion), but we didn't buy that and never took it seriously. the truth was that our new principal knew that learning languages gets harder as you get older, and so building the skills of learning a language while it was easy for us was more important than which language we learned, and that's an answer twelve year old me would've actually respected.

similarly, my geometry class all hated proofs. we couldn't think of a single situation where you'd have to convince someone a triangle was a triangle and "look at it, of course it's a triangle" wouldn't be an acceptable answer. it was actually the band director who pointed out that it wasn't literally about triangles; it was about being able to prove or disprove something, anything using facts.

and so, so, so many assignments that are annoying as hell in school make more sense when you think about the skills as well as the content. "why do i have to present information about something the teacher obviously already knows about?" because research, verifying sources, summarizing, and public speaking are all really important skills. "why does this have to be a group project?" because you will have to work with other people in your life, and learning how to be a team player (and deal with people who aren't) is an essential skill. "why do we have to read these scientific articles and learn about graphs?" because if you can understand them, people can't lie to you about them.

now, of course, there's a lot we could do better- especially we as in the american school system. the reason i have an education minor but am not teaching is because of those issues. there are plenty of assignments that are busywork and teachers that are assholes and ways that the system is failing us.

but that doesn't mean you should cut off your nose to spite your face!

the ability to learn and grow and think critically is one of our most powerful tools as people. our brains are capable of incredible things! however, the same way you can't lift a car unless you consistently lift and build up to that, your brain needs to train in order to do its best.

so yeah, maybe chatgpt can write a five paragraph essay for you on the differences between thomas jefferson and alexander hamilton's governing philosophies. and maybe it won't even fuck it up! congratulations, you got away with it. but by outright refusing to use your brain and practice these skills, who have you helped? you haven't learned anything. worse, you haven't even learned how to learn.

[recoveringsoulsposts]

Women are the superior sex.

We create and nurture human life, serving as the backbone of society. Women uphold humanity and build communities. Despite centuries of degradation, oppression, and systemic barriers, we continue to surpass men. In education, women now outperform men academically. Many of the so-called “great” inventions credited to men were, in reality, stolen from women, only for women’s names to be erased from history.

Biologically, women are more valuable. We live longer, possess stronger immune systems, have higher stress resilience, and are genetically more stable due to our two X chromosomes, which provide genetic protection. Women are essential for the continuation of the human species. Societies with a high female population are more peaceful, stable, and harmonious. Even Mother Nature favors women—during times of extreme stress and famine, female fetuses are more likely to survive. A woman’s body will naturally abort a male fetus, as the XY chromosome is expendable and worthless. Men die earlier, have weaker immune systems, are more likely to be born with birth defects, and are more prone to genetic disorders. I truly believe Males shouldn’t even exist in the large numbers they do currently.

Male value has always been artificial and manufactured. Men by default are more of a burden to the world than anything. Men commit most violent crimes and engage in anti-social behaviors. Prisons are male-dominated, creating a financial burden on governments. A surplus male population leads to increases in human trafficking and social unrest. The effects of China’s one-child policy serve as an example—after the mass murder of female infants and the artificial skewing of the gender ratio in favor of males, China now faces a 30-million-surplus male population. In almost all species, having a high male population is unnatural. As a result, China is experiencing increased human trafficking, rising crime rates, an aging population, and social instability. Males shouldn’t even exist in such large numbers. At birth, males are expendable and worthless by default. A surplus male population is more detrimental to society than anything else. The more you overvalue Men’s natural worth and undervalue Women’s natural worth, patriarchal societies will continue to reap what they sow, and find themselves in this situation. In an artificial, man-made society, system may favour men however nature, biology and the truth will always be on the side of women.

If males were truly superior, as they claim, they wouldn’t need to constantly remind us of their supposed superiority or use outdated systems of power to justify it and claim that ‘men built the world’ when women were deliberately excluded from participating in society and denied access to resources, making us artificially dependent and forcing us to rely on men for survival and to deal with males in the capacities Women have been forced to deal with them. Yet, despite all the rape, torture, humiliation, and abuse women have been subjected to at the hands of men, along with the oppression and discrimination, women have closed the gap within just a few decades and are now outperforming men. As soon as women regain even a small fraction of our rights, we excel, outperform, and thrive

Men’s survival depends on women, not the other way around. There is no metric in which single men outperform single women. Men need women far more than we need them. Men are confirmed parasites, and women are the hosts. Men suck the life out of women, benefiting from relationships and close proximity to Women. Everything they say against women is merely a projection of their own deficiencies, lack of value, and worthlessness. Remember Women brought these men into the world, and women can just as easily choose to stop bringing these men into the world.

[claramelooo]

CHECKMATE (3/20)

You will know more about our governor... I know I know... is taking a while for them to interact, but is a slow burnnn. Let's feel it, okay?

About the US elections, I'm not a us native, so if you find something wrong. Please, let me know!

Enjoy!!

MINORS MUST NOT INTERACT

Warnings: +18, angst and blood mention. (Proceed with caution)

Pairing: Governor!Agatha Harkness x Fem Reader

Summary: Agatha tries to find you and can't believe you were there the whole time.

Queen

noun

The most powerful piece of the game. It can move freely in any direction and any number of places, since there aren't other pieces in its front.  

Her makeup was flawless. Not because she wanted to look pretty—that was quite trivial—but because image was everything on national television, and Agatha Harkness knew how to manipulate image like a general commanding troops.

The TVW logo flashed in blue and white on the screen, followed by a deep musical cue that announced: "Washington Governor Debate: The Future at Stake."

Cameras cut to the austere stage set at Kane Hall, University of Washington, with tiny American flags hanging like sentinels behind the three lit podiums.

Steve Rogers, a decorated veteran and fervent advocate for national security, adjusted his red tie. His jaw clenched between each pause.

Bruce Banner, an award-winning scientist and environmentally focused candidate, stood composed. His gaze was calm, though his fingers drummed nervously on the podium.

And at the center, between the two men, stood former senator Agatha Harkness. She wore a custom navy blue suit. Shoulders squared, chin raised, eyes cold and calculating like the tip of a queen.

Moderator Lisa Monroe addressed the camera:

“Good evening, America. We’re live at the University of Washington with the top three candidates for governor of the state of Washington.”

Turning toward the candidates, she asked:

“Candidates, homicide rates in Washington have risen 33% compared to last year. What is your solution… Candidate Rogers?”

Steve leaned into the mic. His voice was deep, confident, rehearsed.

“The answer’s simple, Lisa. We need to reinforce police presence. Authority. Order. When a hardworking citizen leaves for their job, they should know they won’t be mugged or killed, and that criminals will think twice before acting. I support increased police funding across the board. Peace must be kept by strength, and that’s a fact.”

Applause followed and Agatha resisted the urge to roll her eyes. God. Steve sounded like he lived in a comic book.

She tilted her head slightly, watching him like a strategist observing a move.

“Candidate Banner?”

Bruce took a breath, adjusting his glasses.

“I believe the problem is systemic. Violence stems from inequality, from abandonment. The solution lies in education, mental health, social reintegration programs. We don’t need more bullets. We need more teachers. More psychologists. Fewer overcrowded prisons and more real opportunities.”

Applause came from another side of the auditorium. Lisa then turned to Agatha, who had yet to speak.

“Candidate Harkness?”

She leaned slightly toward the microphone. Her voice was calm, low, yet it filled every corner of the hall.

“What my opponents offer are outdated formulas. On one hand, the heavy hand of repression. On the other, an educational utopia that overlooks the urgency of this crisis. I don’t believe in one-size-fits-all answers. The truth is… the problem is multifactorial and so must be the solution.”

She turned slightly to face the audience, her gaze locked on the main camera.

“I support the use of technology to map out high crime zones, increased presence of trained police with demilitarization protocols, and at the same time, grassroots public policy implementation. No investment in security should come without investment in prevention.”

Bruce tried to interrupt, but she raised her hand ever so slightly—not even touching the mic, just a gesture. And magically, he fell into a silence chocked with saliva.

“And before anyone accuses me of ‘administrative coldness,’ as they have before…” she said, turning now to Lisa, “Let me say this: coldness is ignoring hard data. Coldness is watching mothers bury their children while we debate academic theories or empty speeches about force. I am rational. I am pragmatic. And that’s what this country needs.”

A heavy silence lingered for a moment.

“And just to be clear, Candidate Rogers…” she turned to Steve, her eyes now nearly glacial, “Putting more officers on the street without questioning the culture of force and racism is like trying to put out a fire with gasoline. Your answer is disturbingly convenient for those who don’t want change anything.”

She gave a rehearsed, toothy smile.

“And to Dr. Banner…” she addressed Bruce, her tone a touch softer. “Your heart’s in the right place. But good intentions aren’t enough when there’s blood on the sidewalks of our cities.”

She finished with a slight nod. Applause erupted from every section of the auditorium.

Harkness was known for her pragmatic, urgent speeches. She understood that change was needed and she was willing to make it happen.

Lisa swallowed hard, visibly rattled.

“Well… let’s move on to the next topic.”

Agatha Harkness adjusted her blazer and leaned back slightly against the podium. She didn’t need physical strength, nor passionate outrage.

Her weapon was intellect.

Control.

Strategy.

In the game of power, she already knew she was winning. 

The debate continued, growing more heated. Behind the cameras, Barkley celebrated in silence, watching Agatha maneuver exactly as rehearsed.

When Lisa finally closed the debate, Jennifer made her way toward Agatha with the satisfied smile of someone already tasting victory.

Agatha removed the mic from her lapel and turned with surgical precision toward Jennifer Barkley, who approached like a Hollywood star crossing a red carpet.

“How is my champion?” Jennifer beamed, red lipstick matching her over-the-top confidence. “You annihilated them. Steve looked like a lost boy scout, and Bruce? A tired environmentalist. Honestly, a very elegant bloodbath.”

Agatha raised one brow, her expression as composed as ever.

“If that was a bloodbath, I hope someone cleaned the splatter. I hate mess.”

Jen laughed and threw an arm around the candidate’s shoulders, gently steering her toward the backstage exit.

“You need to relax. We’re celebrating at the new downtown bar. Stark will be there.”

Agatha paused, rolling her eyes like someone who’d just been told she had to share a flight with a talking pig.

“Tony Stark?” She sighed like she'd just heard a bad joke. “The mayor-entrepreneur-privatization messiah? The man who thinks good Wi-Fi solves structural inequality?”

Jennifer burst out laughing. “The one and only. But he’s got good connections. And let’s be honest, he is fun when he is drunk.”

“A radioactive orange can be fun too, Jennifer. And it doesn’t mean I want one floating in my drink.”

“You’re impossible, darling,” Jen said in a tone that suggested she was used to the acid. “But it’ll be good for you. Take a moment to enjoy your win. You’ll be with me—it will be amazing.”

Agatha didn’t reply. She merely tilted her head slightly, as if already accepting the inevitable.

Minutes later, alone in the dressing room, she pulled out her phone and called Nicky. It rang twice before his young, hoarse voice picked up.

“Hey, Mom. The debate’s over?”

“Yes." She said, her voice gentler now. “And now I’m going to a bar with Jennifer. It’ll probably be a long night. Don’t wait up.”

She heard him yawn on the other end.

“Okay. Good luck with your billionaire suit friends.”

She smiled, and for a moment, her eyes lost the steel they held in public.

“You know me too well.”

“I’m your son,” he replied. “Someone has to.”

A quiet pause followed— very heavy with unspoken affection.

She broke it first.

“I… I love you, honey.”

She loved Nicholas more than anything in the world, but saying it out loud still felt foreign.

Luckly, Nicky knew the mother he had.

“Love you too, Mom.”

As the call ended, Agatha stared at her own reflection in the mirror. Her face was unreadable, almost impenetrable — but beneath it there were always scars.

Thanos used to say she was a fortress. That he loved how firm, how decisive she was. And he truly did. He was a good man, generous—a businessman who read poetry and cried at weddings.

But Agatha never loved him.

And that was the silent tragedy of her life: marrying a good man and still feeling locked inside herself. The frustration of knowing her love was never meant to shape itself around softness.

Maybe that’s why she learned to love power, the only relationship that never disappointed her.

The bar was a showcase of carefully calculated excess— amber lighting, polished black marble, waiters who looked like magazine models. It was still empty at that hour, and the soundtrack played softly in the background. 

Agatha Harkness settled into a dark brown leather armchair, crossing her legs with the elegance of someone who knew everyone was watching and more importantly, knew how to use it.

As if it were the most ordinary thing: a gubernatorial candidate walking out of a debate into a bar.

She made a simple two-finger gesture to the waiter, her voice landing like a signature on fine stationery: “A martini. Dry ice.”

Jennifer laughed beside her, already sipping from a glass of sparkling wine that matched the gleam in her eyes. “Martini? Oh, dear. You really know how to have fun.”

Agatha raised an eyebrow, as if debating whether a response was worth it. She took the glass with a grace so sharp it almost hurt, and brought it to her lips without hurry.

“Fun is a subjective concept, Jen. I just drink something that doesn’t offend me.”

Jennifer let out a laugh a bit too loud for the still-empty room, tossing her hair back. The kind of woman who knew how to be loved and hated in equal measure and enjoyed both.

“You don’t relax even when you’re about to win, do you?”

Agatha turned her face toward the window, eyes sharp as she watched the first cars pulling up outside.

“Because I haven’t won yet.”

“But you will.” Jennifer smiled like someone already cashing in lottery winnings. “Washington is just the beginning. With Stark in your damn pocket and this campaign in your hands, babe… we’re shaping the fucking country.”

At the mention of the name, Agatha drew a slow breath, her eyes drifting into her glass as if searching for patience inside it.

“Tony Stark is a billionaire buffoon with an ego the size of the national deficit. If he could privatize air, he already would’ve.”

Jennifer laughed harder, tapping Agatha’s arm playfully. “But he has influence. And you need that. This bar, by the way, is his. It’s all networking, baby.”

Agatha looked around like a woman trapped in a play written by idiots. Even the sophistication of the place seemed to scream: new money, old power.

But she was there.

Because in the game of power, even lions must dance with clowns.

Speak of in the devil—Tony Stark walked in. Hair slicked back, beard trimmed to perfection. A long coat and an expensive suit.

Old money. Real money.

The room seemed to tilt slightly toward him—waiters straightened up, conversations dropped in volume, and even the lighting seemed to land better on him.

Agatha didn’t turn immediately. She could recognize Tony’s footsteps anywhere: Italian leather shoes, sharp, arrogant.

He was the kind of man who made sure to leave behind a trail of expensive cologne and unspoken promises wherever he went.

“Oh, the peacock’s arrived,” she murmured to Jennifer, without moving a single muscle on her face.

“Be nice,” Jen replied with a crooked smile. “He wants to see you in the Oval Office, Agatha. Not at the altar.”

Agatha let out a quiet snort. “Which would be worse, I wonder.”

Tony was already approaching, arms wide, wearing that half-smile he believed was charming but was pure performance.

“Well, if it isn’t the most feared woman of the evening,” he said, leaning in to kiss her cheek. Agatha tilted her chin slightly, accepting the gesture with the same indifference one gives to an inevitable, useless meeting.

“Tony,” she replied, voice low and sharp like polished glass. “Here to celebrate a victory I haven’t declared yet?”

“I’m a man of vision. I like betting on winners.” He sat beside her, ignoring Jennifer entirely. “And you, my dear Agatha, are a racehorse in a field of donkeys.”

Jennifer laughed, but Agatha only sipped her martini. “The problem with visionaries, Stark,” she said, “is that they mistake projection for reality.”

“Maybe. But reality, as we both know, is bendable.” He leaned in slightly, voice lowering. “Imagine the two of us. My capital. Your mind. We’d be unstoppable.”

She finally turned to him, smiling a smile that was all blade. “Tony, you talk like this is a marriage proposal.”

“And why couldn’t it be?”

“Because I don’t marry billionaires who use drones to deliver flowers.”

“It was meant to be romantic.”

“Oh. The NSA must be jealous, I’m sure.”

Tony burst out laughing. He loved this about her—the disdain, the coldness, the fact that she’d never kiss him—which only made him want it more.

Agatha knew that. 

She knew that to him, she was a trophy that refused to be displayed and she knew how to perform. She knew how to smile with just the right teeth, tilt her body at the right angle, laugh at the things that needed laughing—like a trained actress.

She pretended well.

Until she felt it.

Eyes.

Not the dull eyes of sycophants. Not the ones looking for power, or seeing her only as a candidate to be manipulated—a valuable piece in their dirty games.

No.

This gaze was something else.

Like the flame of a candle in a dark room—small, silent, but impossible to ignore. Its presence burned gently, yet more intensely than anything around.

Agatha turned her head with the calculated slowness of a woman who knows every move she makes could shift the gravity of a room.

And then she saw you.

Sitting on the other side of the bar, alone.

Your small frame looked fragile, hunched slightly forward, elbows resting on the edge of the counter. Your cheeks were flushed from the alcohol. The heavy makeup and short dress trying to make you look older.

The glass forgotten between your fingers. And your eyes—your eyes were watching her with a rare kind of intensity. Not political interest or fame.

Something more human, something more dangerous.

Curiosity.

Desire.

Defiance.

When your eyes met, you smiled. A short smile—not arrogant at all, but with a hint of shy provocation. And then, you looked away. Like someone casting bait... and waiting.

Agatha remained still, the martini glass still near her lips. One brow arched. The exchange was brief, but it left a hum.

Were you flirting?

She didn’t know what was more intriguing: the boldness of the gesture or the fact that, for a second, it worked. For a second, Agatha Harkness found herself... curious.

But before she could give it more thought, you stood up. Without haste. Without looking back. You walked through the golden bodies of the lounge like you belonged nowhere, and disappeared into the sea of people swelling as the night grew older.

Agatha followed the motion with her eyes, like watching something come unhinged. Jennifer said something beside her. Tony too. The bar pulsed now with louder music.

But Agatha wasn’t fully there anymore.

Who were you? she wondered.

She didn’t know your name. Didn’t know why your gaze had burned more than any compliment or political alliance proposed that night.

“Are you okay?”

The question slipped out before she could stop it. Cold. Direct. And almost robotic.

But the truth was, she didn’t know why she had followed you. She only knew she saw your body disappear through the back door, and something inside her—maybe some ancient impulse, maybe a stupid desire to feel something —had made her follow.

She hated when that happened.

The silence that followed her question was almost worse than any answer. She saw the faint nod, the way your expression tried to mask a pain she knew far too well.

A kind of sadness that lives in the corners of the mouth, in eyes that don’t want to be seen.

“I just needed some air.”

Your voice was fragile, and even so, Agatha felt the blow. She could recognize that sound — someone trying not to fall apart. And what infuriated her was how much it affected her.

She sat down. Not too close, but close enough to feel it.

It was always like this. Agatha approached danger carefully, with the stupid illusion that control was enough to stop the abyss from swallowing her whole.

But it wasn’t.

Your presence made her uneasy. Eyes too big, too sincere, too alive. As if they stripped away everything she’d spent her life trying to bury.

“Why are you here?” you asked.

And Agatha almost laughed at your boldness.

Why, indeed?

She didn’t know.

The answer she gave was the only honest thing to leave her mouth in weeks: “I saw you leave. And… I came.”

She didn’t know how to explain what that was. A heat that threatened to melt her logic. An absurd attraction born from absolutely nothing, like being pulled by something stronger than herself—and she hated feeling weak.

“I don’t usually do this.”

And that was true, too. She didn’t. Actually, Agatha never did. But there, with you in front of her, the never seemed to dissolve far too quickly.

“You’re… different,”

The word scorched her tongue like alcohol on open skin. She practically spat it out, hating every syllable. Every damn syllable and what they meant. Because it wasn’t just any difference, it wasn’t about style or looks. It was something she couldn’t name—and Agatha hated not knowing.

Her whole body was on alert, like you were a glitch in her control matrix.

And worst of all: a fascinating one.

And you asked. Oh, God. Of course you asked.

“What do you mean?”

Agatha felt a flicker of irritation, like you’d touched a part of her even she didn’t dare approach. A pout formed on her lips—an involuntary expression of frustration she hated revealing.

She didn’t know how to answer.

Worse: she didn’t want to answer.

But her eyes, always so disciplined, faltered. They dropped to your mouth.

Damn her body. She hated that. Hated you.

“I don’t know,” she said at last, her voice laced with something deeper. An unwanted recognition.

But the truth, raw and unbearable, was right in front of her: You destabilized her.

And Agatha hated being destabilized.

“But I despise it,” she confessed. The venom in her voice wasn’t for you, it was for herself. For this fucking weakness you had unearthed in her.

You were too young, too reckless, and you had no right.

“Why?” you asked, with that voice that felt like an invitation to disaster.

Agatha felt the blood throb harder, her jaw tightening.

She turned to you like someone bracing against an invisible threat — but on your face, there was only the war inside her.

A volcano of colliding urges.

Because everything in her was control.

Everything.

Even you.

Especially you.

“Because I hate losing control,” she said.

It was a warning, but it was obvious you’d choose to stay.

The wind blew hard, covering part of her face with her hair. She let it, because hiding was easier than letting you see what was burning inside.

But you saw it, and that terrified her.

“Maybe… maybe it’s not such a bad thing.”

Oh. Sweet illusion.

She let out a harsh, dry laugh. The laugh of someone who’d seen the end of the world and survived only to laugh at the ashes.

“You have no idea what you’re saying.”

And it was true.

Come on! you had no idea how bad this was, how dangerous. And still, ignoring everything you didn’t know, you stepped closer.

Then again.

And now, there was no more space left between you.

Agatha could feel the heat of your body like electricity against her skin. You burned her, and still… she didn’t move back.

Why didn’t she move?

Because of your fucking needy eyes that met hers, and something in her cracked. Because you saw. You saw what no one should ever see, and she hated you for that too.

“Then tell me,” you whispered. “Make me understand.”

The request was a blade—sly, needy—that cuts and makes you thank it for the blood.

“I can’t do that.”

Her voice faltered. God, her voice cracked.

She turned away. She needed to leave, she wanted to run and never see you again.

But she didn’t run. 

Fuck. Why didn’t she run?

Agatha stood there, hand on the doorknob, waiting for something she couldn’t even name.

You approached.

Slow and intentional.

As if you knew she had nowhere else to go.

When your fingers touched her hair, Agatha shivered. The sound that escaped her mouth—God. She wanted to hate you. Hate you so fucking much, but no. Agatha wanted this. She wanted you.

“Please…”

You whispered it against her skin, and it felt like an ancient spell.

She turned. Her back pressed to the door, eyes heavy with everything she tried to hide.

“What the fuck do you want from me?” she growled, voice torn. She stared into your eyes, pupils blown wide, begging for something—anything.

God, you were so aroused.

And without asking, you kissed her. Not her lips, but her neck. Slow, feverish kisses, damn near perfect.

“Please, please, please.”

The words echoed in her mind, burned onto the neck you just kissed. Branded like whispered promises on a dangerous night.

You rose, almost a real kiss.

Almost…

And when she leaned in, you pulled away, the absence hurting more than any touch, and in her eyes now, there was fire.

Primal, wild.

“Fuck.”

She kissed you.

Like someone surrendering, like someone sinning with full knowledge they’d burn in hell.

And it wasn’t gentle.

It couldn’t be.

Because you were different.

And she despises that.

Agatha knew, from the second you pinned her against the iron door, that she had crossed a line she should never have even approached.

You moaned softly into her mouth, your lips fitting with an old urgency—she felt everything.

Everything.

As if your taste was the secret key to a prison she’d locked herself in for decades. And for a moment, she wanted to be free.

The campaign, Jennifer and Stark. The politics, the numbers and cold calculations could go fuck themselves. 

None of it mattered.

Not there, with your fingers slipping lower and lower.

Agatha only wanted to feel worshiped. And you… You were young, and you did it with a devotion that bordered on blasphemy. The way your tongue surrendered and defied at the same time… Hell.

She hated herself for loving it. For finding pleasure in being kissed by someone who shouldn’t even belong in the same world as her.

Her hands grabbed you like iron, and you—so insolent, brave, stupid— let yourself be marked, as if belonging to Agatha was the most natural thing in the world, as if you knew you were made for it.

Why? Why was it so easy for you to give in??

That’s what threw her off.

Agatha had always been cold, frigid. That’s how Thanos used to put it, even when trying to sound kind. That’s what the men in parties called her behind her back. That’s how she saw herself for years: a woman who knew how to use her body, but never actually felt anything.

But now? Now, with you… She was burning like fire. Because the heat was coming from you. From a young, unruly, disobedient body.

And fuck... that was dangerous.

Because feeling was dangerous. Feeling meant stripping down and stripping down meant dying in her world.

The heat in her thighs. The pulsing in her wrist. The sweat at her nape.

Everything was too alive. Too real. You made her feel, and that was a fucking problem.

She tried to control it. Tried to take back control. Pulled away from the kiss. Said “no” with her forehead still pressed to yours.

But you leaned in again.

You licked your lips and promised you’d take care of her. Your scent was everywhere driving her insane.

That sentence…

“I can do this for you.” 

Would be the death of her.

And the worst part?

 You did.

Agatha moaned, yes. Loud and shamefully. Her body trembled. Heat rose through her legs, gathered at her center, pounded in her chest.

With your fingers. With that pretty mouth of yours. With your doe eyes. With the fucking way you begged her to feel it.

You whispered promises and sweet words like poison while you explored her—mouth, fingers, eyes.

She lost her breath, lost her grip.

“Fuck! It’s been so long!” she cried, bouncing shamelessly on your fingers.

It had been ages since she let anyone give her pleasure. But it happened... in a dirty, cramped emergency exit. With a stranger young enough to be Nicky’s friend.

And you knew exactly what to do. How did you know? How could someone so young touch her with that much reverence and filth at the same time?

Fuck… she was lost.

And when you whispered: “I’m a good girl.”

That phrase. That fucking phrase pushed her to the edge of her own madness. It shook her. 

She wanted to laugh because you were so pathetic and cry because she tightened around your fingers. Agatha came, clinging to you like you were the only thing anchoring her to reality.

And that’s when she understood the real danger.

She needed to pull herself together. Fast. Return to herself. To the real world.

“This never happened.”

The words were cold. Sharp and ruthless. But even as she said them, your taste was still on her lips. Her breath still came in gasps, her panties still damp.

She told you that you meant nothing, because that’s what you should be. However her still-shaking body betrayed her.

“Go fuck yourself,” you said.

The way you said it, the way your eyes pierced through her… 

Agatha felt the floor vanish beneath her. She didn’t answer, she couldn’t. She just swallowed hard, jaw clenched, fighting the rising panic beneath her polished surface.

And then, you moved.

Not back, you didn’t leave in that scenario. In this time you moved forward, with your doe eyes transformed into blood.

Something glinted under the harsh corridor light. 

Too fast.

Too sharp.

A silent snap, the sound of metal breaking skin. And for a second, Agatha didn’t understand what was happening.

She just felt the stabbing pain.

The heat blooming in her abdomen.

The blood.

Warm.

Sticky.

Red.

The knife was in your hand and it was inside her.

Agatha dropped to her knees with a choked, raspy groan. Looked down and saw blood slipping between trembling fingers.

Her blood.

But you were already turning away.

“What… what did you do?” she whispered, eyes wide.

Her face pale, frozen in panic.

And you left. So calm and innocent like a child, as if nothing had happened.

The sound of distant alarms exploded in her head. 

A distorted noise, like sirens tearing at her ears.

A buzzing. A scream. A torn memory.

The floor spun, and Agatha woke up with a gasp caught in her throat, chest heaving like she was drowning.

She was in bed.

Her bed.

Sweat ran down her temple. Her hands were shaking. The sheets were soaked. Her heartbeat erratic. She clutched her stomach in terror, but there was no wound.

No blood. No knife.

Just the ghost of everything.

But the taste of your mouth, the echo of your bitter laugh—still felt real. She stayed there for long minutes, trying to convince herself it had only been a dream.

Just a dream.

Morning light stabbed through the curtains, and for a moment she felt like she hadn’t truly woken up. Like she was still in that cold hallway, blood running down her belly, watching you walk away like you'd stolen a part of her.

But the sound of the news on TV, the smell of coffee, the crackle of cereal broke the spell.

She was home.

Safe.

Alive.

She stood up with effort. The floral robe slipped over her shoulders. Agatha tried to look composed before walking into the kitchen, even if she was shattered inside.

“Good morning.” Her voice came out hoarse, scraped raw by a nightmare that hadn’t fully left her.

Nicky looked up from his phone, spoon frozen mid-air. He studied her for a second, brow slightly furrowed. 

 “Damn… you slept in.”

She forced a smile—the kind that hurt the muscles in her face. Ran a hand through her tangled, wild hair, as if the distracted gesture could erase the chaos of the night before.

“Had a long night.” Her voice was low, tired.

She sat at the table. Picked up the mug of lukewarm coffee like it could anchor her back to reality—a caffeine and routine anchor against an ocean of delirium, sex, and blood.

She tried to seem like a mother. Just for a moment. Tried to pretend she still remembered how to be one.

“Did you check the news?” she asked, feigning casual. “Anything about last night’s debate?”

Nicky shrugged, chewing slowly. “Just the usual… old dudes freaking out ‘cause you humiliated Rogers and Banner live on air. You’re trending, by the way. A bunch of people calling you a milf.”

Agatha raised an eyebrow. “Milf?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t know, Mom.”

She let out a sound between a laugh and a sigh. “Oh god, why are you young people like this?” She rolled her eyes. “Does everything have to be sexual?”

“You’re kinda scary sometimes, you know that?” he said suddenly, with a crooked smile. “I think that’s what attracts the porn-addicted young guys or whatever.”

She pressed her lips together, almost laughing for real. Almost.

“Why are we talking about this so early?”

“It’s almost nine, Mom.”

Agatha raised a brow.

“Exactly. Early.” she muttered playfully, making Nicky stifle a chuckle.

For a second, she wanted to just be there.

With him. With her Nicky. The only real tether she still had to the world.

But her mind was a feral bitch and it always came back.

The nightmare.

The taste of your mouth.

The blood.

Your shy gaze that clashed with the brutal confidence of the way you fucked her.

You.

Again, you.

She ran a hand over her forehead, trying to push the image away.

Fuck.

"Someone from the security department called," Nicky said casually, scrolling through his phone.

The world stopped.

Agatha tried to keep her expression neutral, but her heart was pounding.

"Oh, really?" she asked, her tone deliberately flat.

"Yeah," he replied, already standing and throwing his backpack over one shoulder. "I told them you weren’t in, but that you’d call back as soon as possible."

Agatha nodded slowly, as if she needed to sync her thoughts before they spilled out through her eyes. “You’re so clever, sweetheart.” She stood and walked over to him. “So… how’s the studying for Harvard going? It was medicine, right?”

Nicky swallowed hard, clearly uncomfortable. “Studying’s fine. I ranked fourth on the class mock test.”

“Hmm, not bad.” She adjusted the collar of his shirt, even though it was already perfectly aligned. “But we can always do better, can’t we?”

“Of course, Mom,” he muttered under his breath.

Agatha leaned in and kissed his forehead. “Study hard, sweetheart.”

He gave a small nod, not too enthusiastic, and walked out. The door clicked shut softly—but to Agatha, it sounded like a gunshot.

As soon as she was alone, her posture collapsed. Her shoulders sagged. The composed look in her eyes dissolved into something close to panic.

Now that she was alone, she could finally breathe. She picked up the phone and called Peggy.

“Harkness. To what do I owe the pleasure?” the woman answered, casual as always.

“Any updates on what I asked?”

“Straight to the point, huh?” Peggy teased, her voice playful. Then silence. “Alright. The name you sent me… Melinda Nox, right?”

Agatha kept her chin up, eyes fixed on the untouched coffee mug on the counter. The white porcelain stood in stark contrast to the dark polish on her nails.

“And?” she pressed, her voice colder than she intended.

“She doesn’t exist,” Peggy said bluntly. “I mean, the ID exists... but it’s not official. No entry in the database. It’s like it was made on the side. A fake identity. And a sloppy one, at that.”

Agatha went silent and Peggy went on.

“I’m digging into whoever’s been distributing these. Something’s off, Agatha. And if I’m right, you’re tangled up with someone way more dangerous than they seem.”

Agatha narrowed her eyes.

She could still see her face —or rather, the face of the woman calling herself Melinda. The way her lips curled when she smiled—it was real, seductive.

Agatha had spent days trying to rationalize what happened, convincing herself it was just a lapse. Just desire.

But now...

Now Melinda had vanished. No trail. No trace. Like a ghost.

You were a lie.

You fucked her—and lied.

You were a fucking lie.

You could ruin her entire career with a single click.

And it was ruining her.

“Any idea who might’ve issued this kind of identity?” Agatha asked, arms crossing tightly.

“Maybe,” Peggy replied, evasive. “But I’ll need to dig deeper. This could involve big names. And you know how big names hate being dug into.”

“Dig anyway.” Agatha hung up before she could respond.

She stood still for a moment, staring at her blurry reflection in the kitchen window. The sky outside was gray — just like her mood.

Melinda Nox.

That name spun like a knife in her mind, and no matter how hard she tried to pretend she didn’t feel it, it was already seared into her.

Agatha didn’t know who you were. But the fact you dropped that identity… it felt deliberate. Like deep down, you wanted to be found or like you knew exactly what you were doing to her.

And now that you weren't you?

It made her furious.

Because Agatha Harkness hates not knowing.

[...]

Running her hands down the navy blazer with the precision of someone adjusting armor before a war, Agatha took a deep breath. The elevator dinged open with a metallic chime, and she stepped into the office hallway like she owned the floor — which, in many ways, she did.

The chaos was almost comical. Staff yelling into phones, rushing around with clipboards, dropping papers, tripping over their own feet. The tension in the air was thick. The night’s debate still echoed through the corridors like a post-impact earthquake. And Agatha, of course, was the epicenter.

“Ms. Harkness. Hi!” A young assistant greeted her with a rehearsed smile. “Jennifer’s already waiting for you in the conference room.”

Agatha followed the young woman —far too green to be working for a shark like Barkley.

Jennifer didn’t even look up when Agatha entered. In a way, it was the greatest show of respect Agatha could receive. Her image director was pacing, deep in an intense phone call. She signaled for Agatha to wait.

“I know,” Jennifer was saying, pacing like a caged lioness. “I know. But something came up, and we won’t be able to receive the interns today.”

Agatha crossed her arms and leaned against the wall, a faint smile dancing on her lips. 

Jennifer was good.

A monster, but a brilliant one.

“I know it’s in the contract!” Her voice rose slightly, before softening with a plastic smile. “Watson, you know I’m in the middle of a major campaign and—”

A muffled voice on the other end, followed by tense silence. Then Jennifer stared at the phone and sighed. “Shit.”

She finally turned to Agatha, forcing a smile.

“Sorry, darling.” She smoothed her blonde hair, clearly exhausted. “The office committed to hosting and training interns from the UW. You know… all that performative nonsense about inclusion, youthful spirit, building bridges with the next generation… It's so exhausting.” She rubbed her temples.

Agatha crossed her arms, blazer pristine.

“Good,” she said dryly. “Maybe one of them will actually be worth it.”

“Let’s hope so.” Jennifer sighed, dialing the internal line on her desk. “Ready for the meeting, darling? We’ve compiled some key points after Friday’s debate.”

As she spoke, the rest of the team entered, adjusting slides, firing up the projector, arranging charts.

Once everything was in place, it began:

“Ms. Harkness, good morning.” Said one of the assistants formally, Agatha responded with a simple nod. “Let’s get straight to it. Here’s the updated overview of voter intent for the state governor’s race.”

The screen flashed, displaying a detailed map of Washington State, shaded in blue, red, and gray.

“As we can see,” he began, “you’re leading in 43% of the metropolitan districts, especially Seattle, Bellevue, and Tacoma. Your progressive stances on gun control, environmental policy, and educational investment have struck a chord.”

He clicked again, and a bar graph appeared.

“Your strongest demographic is the 35 to 65 age group. Liberal professionals, small business owners, middle-aged moms, teachers. They see you as a firm, modern leader. Authoritative, but forward-thinking. A direct contrast to Rogers’ outdated conservatism and Banner’s emotional intability.”

Jennifer leaned in to whisper, clearly pleased. “You’re the woman they respect, maybe even fear. And they like that.”

But before they could continue, there were three knocks on the door.

“Excuse me…”

“Sonya, what is it? This better be urgent.”

Jennifer closed her eyes for a brief moment before replying, as if begging for one last second of peace.

“It’s… the interns. They’ve arrived.”

Jennifer took a deep breath, sinking into her chair, summoning patience.

“Fucking Watson.” She cursed the man—the phone call man. “Sorry, darling.” She turned to Agatha. “But I believe the sooner we get this over with, the better, right?” Jennifer shrugged and adjusted her skirt.

The sound of Agatha’s heels echoed sharply against the marble floor of the hallway. She stepped out of the conference room, her mind still buzzing with charts, numbers, and meticulously crafted strategies.

But none of that prepared her for what she saw as she turned the corner.

The interns were lined up in the main hall, waiting to be greeted. Some whispered nervously to one another, others tried to look effortlessly cool.

And there, among them, was that same body shape, the same height. The hair that, just two weeks ago, had been tangled between her fingers—now perfectly in place, but still the same shade she remembered. The same face with full cheeks. The same eyes with lashes far too long for their own good, and that wide smile, looking genuinely happy to be there.

Agatha couldn’t believe it.

It was you.

Her stomach twisted, like a punch to the gut.

No.

It couldn’t be.

Her gaze locked on you—on every detail of your face, on your tense shoulders, on the posture trying to appear confident. But she knew better. That same young confidence that, just weeks ago, had left her panties soaked against the emergency exit door.

She felt completely obsessed and unhinged.

Agatha blinked, heart pounding in her chest.

“Ms. Harkness?” one of the assistants asked. “Is everything alright?”

She didn’t answer, just kept staring.

Anger rising. Hot, sudden, raw.

You lied.

You fucking lied to her.

How dare you?

Who even were you?

“Who is that girl?” Agatha asked, eyes never leaving your face.

The assistant hesitated. “Oh, right. One second.” She turned toward the reception desk and pulled out an ID folder. “Here. One of the top students at UW. Really impressive. Very mature for her age and—”

But Agatha wasn’t listening anymore.

She snatched the folder from the assistant’s hands with a sharp, almost feral motion. The papers inside trembled as her eyes scanned the first page.

And then, she saw it.

Your real fucking name.

Your real fucking age.

20 years old.

“Twenty...?” she whispered, choking on the word, as if each syllable scraped its way up her throat.

Fuck.

Agatha’s mind exploded into a dizzying storm of rage, guilt, disbelief, and repressed desire.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

You hadn’t just lied.

You were underage.

Too young to be in that bar.

Too young to be drinking.

Too young to touch her the way you did.

And yet… you had done it all.

Agatha ran a trembling hand through her hair. The folder shook in her hands like a bomb about to go off. She turned slowly. Wished you’d disappeared. That it was a delusion.

But you were right there.

And when your eyes met hers—wide, yes, but not exactly surprised—something inside her collapsed.

Shame.

Desire.

Guilt.

Hatred.

A kind of regret she didn’t dare name.

She had to get out of there.

Or make you leave.

For the first time in a long time, Agatha felt completely out of control. Like the game had finally slipped from her grasp.

Because in the end, it wasn’t power that was in check.

It was her.

The woman who had always known how to move every piece flawlessly. Who had sacrificed everything to remain untouchable on the board.

The queen was exposed.

Lost.

And, for the first time, unsure of her next move.

~*~

I think we all need this after last chapter, huh? How about we druve the governor all little crazy?

Tag List <3

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[hrrtshape]

what’s the school system like in lithuania

oh wow that caught me off guard………….. ok so. the lithuanian school system. girl.

for me it was a rickety, unhinged, deeply baltic carousel of non-consensual character development.

i started first grade in spain (spanish sun. deeply happy probably) and then came back mid-year and got plopped straight into the war crime that is lithuanian public school.

i was seven. the school was in žvėrynas. which, translation moment, literally means animal land. i'm sorry. ANIMAL. LAND. that's the setting. the tone was set. i walked in with my enthusiasm and got hit with a blackboard, a 100-year-old classroom, and a teacher who looked like she once taught jesus

i lasted until third grade. barely. then private school. which was somehow worse ??? my teacher literally said i was too stupid to survive and should just marry rich. and then she discovered mindfulness and flew to india and came back reincarnated as, like, a sentient lavender candle. terrifying arc. we had a sweet assistant teacher though. she was the emotional support woman

then i did TWO years in spain again (slay intermission. fell in love with my english media and culture australian teacher and a nonchalant russian nerd) and came back and just said ok fine give me english school i can't take another minute of baltic pedagogy. so i did a year of online school. which i never attended

and that's how i landed in the ib programme where everyone was sobbing, spiritually bankrupt, and actively being failed by teachers. my cas teacher literally forgot i existed until the week before a deadline and emailed me like "you're not graduating xx" like ok great thanks for the trauma?????? everyone was winging it. the system was fake

so basically. my experience is very personal, very migratory, very i have been educated on three separate continents and still don't know how to do percentages. but the lithuanian school system in general is outdated as HELL. most of it is public and underfunded and emotionally violent in a way that no therapy can unpack

hope this helps

never come to study in lithuania <3

[gyakutengagotoku]

Hellooo! I've been wondering about Ace Attorney Dual Destinies recently, and I know in the English localization, Blackquill is just a British weeb cosplaying a Samurai, which, yeah, that's great. He's straight up doing chuuni shit In Court™. It's definitely fun(ny), and at least one reason why he's my favorite, but... Is he a chuunibyo in the original, too? How similar are they? At what points do they differ? I don't like a full Read More (unless you want to), but. I'm so curious... Thank you!

Hello, I am not dead yet.

And yes, he has sometimes been called "chuunibyou" by JP fans, affectionately ofc. Especially that after the initial impressions wear off and you get how he talks like he's a character ripped out of a samurai manga or something. A little tryhard, but in an endearing way.

I like how the localization gave him that sort of "posh" manner of speaking in English because unlike the common misconception or anime tropes, samurai of old were generally very educated and well-spoken. Like you more or less had to be of a certain status to become recognized as a samurai, kinda like how knights were in Europe and all. And while there were exceptions IRL, where samurai came from very poor / humble beginnings, they were rare.

Truthfully, the whole anime trope of the mysterious ronin samurai being a tough gruff-talking dude who rebels against the system became that way because it's based on real history. After a while, when the shogunate grew weak in the face of foreign powers, they underwent heavy revisions (began even before the Meiji Era) and samurai were deemed outdated and unnecessary. In those days it was all about going Western and traditional customs and stuff were cast aside for "modernity". As you can imagine, former samurai stripped of their titles didn't take that lightly and there were a number of samurai-led rebellions against the government and they got bloody. It took Japan some time to give samurai their heroic reputation back, though they did usually fight for the common folk, so that's also how they got their fame.

Anyway, it's my personal headcanon that Blackquill/Yugami is just the biggest manga otaku on this side of Japanifornia, barring Edgeworth/Mitsurugi himself. The chief sure knows how to pick 'em, lol.

[astroa3h]

How Pluto Entering Aquarius Will Shape the Next Two Decades

Hold onto your hats, because the cosmos just handed us a front-row ticket to the most exhilarating and unsettling ride of the century. Pluto, the planet of transformation, power, and those deep, dark truths we’d rather shove under the rug, is strutting into Aquarius, the sign of innovation, rebellion, and humanity’s collective future. This isn’t just a cosmic shuffle. It’s a full-blown revolution that will flip the script on every corner of life as we know it. We’re talking society, technology, relationships, and yes, your personal universe. This not your average astrological transit.

Pluto doesn’t mess around. This is the planet of the phoenix, meaning if something isn’t working, it’s about to burn down to ashes. But don’t panic. Aquarius isn’t here to destroy for the sake of destruction. This air sign is the visionary genius, the tech whiz, the humanitarian. Together, they’re rewriting the rules of the game. Think of it like a power wash for your life and our world, a little messy at first, but ultimately freeing. For the next 19 years, expect seismic shifts in how we connect as a species. Aquarius rules technology and social systems, so the digital landscape will explode with changes. In terms of astrology predictions, AI won’t just be a cool tool; it’s going to reshape the job market, education, and even how we understand what it means to be human. If you’ve been clinging to outdated ways of working or communicating, Pluto is here to snap you out of it. The advice? Embrace the new. Learn, adapt, grow. That app you’re too stubborn to download could end up being the key to your next career move.

Power structures are about to collapse. Pluto in Aquarius doesn’t tolerate inequality, corruption, or anything that reeks of the old guard clinging to control. Governments, corporations, and even social hierarchies are in for a rude awakening. On a personal level, ask yourself where you’ve been giving your power away. Is it to a boss who doesn’t value you? A partner who keeps you small? A habit that numbs your potential? Pluto is here to tear those chains apart. But it’s on you to step into the freedom that follows. Of course, there’s a shadow side. Aquarius can be cold, detached, even ruthless in its pursuit of the greater good. Be wary of losing yourself in groupthink or tech dependency. Just because the world is speeding up doesn’t mean you have to lose touch with your own humanity. Make time for real conversations, face-to-face connections, and grounding rituals. This isn’t just a suggestion.

It’s a survival tool for navigating the chaos.

And let’s talk relationships. Traditional bonds might feel stifling under this influence. Aquarius loves independence and freedom, so if you’re in a situation that feels too confining, it’s time to shake things up. This doesn’t mean running for the hills every time someone asks for commitment. But it does mean being honest about what you need to thrive. Maybe that’s more space, or maybe it’s a complete reimagining of what love looks like for you. Just know this: Pluto doesn’t do surface-level. Any connection that’s shallow, fake, or rooted in outdated ideals is going to crumble. And that’s a good thing. This is also a time to dream big, no, bigger. Aquarius is the sign of invention and radical ideas. If you’ve been sitting on a creative project, a business idea, or a vision for your future, Pluto is giving you a cosmic green light. But there’s a catch. You can’t just dream it; you have to build it. Aquarius is innovative, yes, but it’s also fiercely logical. It’s about using your genius to create something real. So, roll up your sleeves. Get to work. You have a 19-year runway to make something extraordinary.

But remember, transformation isn’t a one-and-done event. Pluto moves slowly, digging deep into the cracks we don’t want to see. There will be moments when it feels too intense, too overwhelming. That’s when you lean into the Aquarian gift of vision. What kind of future do you want to build? What kind of person do you want to become? Keep your eyes on the horizon, even when the ground shakes beneath your feet. Pluto in Aquarius isn’t just a transit. It’s a call to action. It’s a demand to evolve. The world is changing, fast. And the question isn’t whether you’ll adapt. It’s whether you’ll rise to meet the opportunity. The universe believes you can. Now it’s your turn to believe it too.

Sending you all my love and blessings,

Ash (@AstroA3h via Instagram & TikTok)

✨💓

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