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writersrealmbts · 3 years

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Cruise

Description: Part of the summer #btswritingbingo, hosted by @bangtanwritingbingo! For the Boating prompt. A summer cruise as a translator for world-famous band BTS: what could go wrong? WELL, the zombie apocalypse. In the middle of the ocean, are you safe? Or is there danger lurking in the deep?

Warnings: Mentions of death, violence (especially after the third content break), mild language? (I can’t remember if there’s language or not but I’ll tag it)

Posted: 06/11/2021

Tags: Zombie apocalypse au, Yoongi x reader

Angst?: 8,342 words

A/N: Oh look, another zombie au.

The engine was idling.

The radio was on, and everyone was listening to the broadcast in silence. The horror was slowly growing in your stomach.

“The country is overrun, we’re broadcasting from a locked room, and we aren’t certain how much longer we can hold out…how much longer we’ll be safe. We’ve had news from several other countries reporting the same conditions. They’re mindless, react to movement…don’t like bright lights…most active starting at dusk all the way through dawn. Don’t let them injure you. They hid the mutagen in vitamins and supplements. Whatever you do…don’t ingest anything from Biogene International.”

You swallowed hard, hugging yourself as background sounds of other voices and banging echoed through the radio

“Oh God, they’ve found us,” The radio announcer murmured. “I guess this is it. If you’re isolated from infestations, I suggest you stay isolated. Cut off the heads. And enjoy this last song by Andy Lange. God save us all.”

The radio started playing ‘Not Sure Yet’, and you just listened to it as your heart broke.

They finally ruined the world.

And you weren’t with your friends and family when it happened.

You were with your stupid ex-boyfriend that you’d just broken up with, the staff of the ship that hired you as an extra translator for the last group—a kpop group and their staff that were filming a vacation show of some sort.

And you’d have to be born under a mountain of rocks to not know that the kpop group was BTS, and in any other situation you’d be excited about helping them as a semi-casual fan of theirs.

But right now you really hated them, and their choice of this ship that employed your ex-boyfriend—even if you’d been the one to get him that job.

“So,” The spoken-of devil murmured, coming to stand next to you. “Sounds like the world is actually ending.”

You took a deep breath, because everyone could hear, and were subtly watching.

“Changes a lot of things doesn’t it?”

“Except one.”

“What?”

You turned to him. “I still would rather die alone than live my life with you.”

He sputtered, but you didn’t stay to listen to him try to argue with you, turning off the radio since it had turned to static and going to the other translator.

“Do they know?”

He nodded gravely. “They’re trying to check on their families.”

“Let me know if there’s anything I can do,” You told him, bowing slightly to the other staff and the boys before going over to some of the other crew. “How much food do we have?”

“Maybe enough for a week,” The cook, Lori, answered. “If I ration.”

“Do it. Same with water?”

“We should have two weeks, more if we cut back on showers, mopping, other excess water usage,” The first mate said, staring out at the horizon. “Hopefully by then we’ll know if there’s a safe port. The captain went to try and radio as many other ships as possible.”

“We should make sure none of that Biogene stuff is on the ship,” One of the engineers said.

The first mate nodded, quickly moving. “Everyone! We need to make sure that there are no Biogene products on this vessel. Please go check all of your pills and supplements, anything that could be pharmaceutical or…just check everything!”

You translated quickly, then went to check your own things. You didn’t have much that could be from that company, but you checked absolutely everything just to be sure.

Then you went to help the staff and band just in case.

They weren’t coming up with anything, so you headed for the captain’s cabin just to see if there were any more plans at that point.

Captain Cobden Alby was an elder man, who tended to become an Uncle, Brother, or Grandfather figure for anyone who’d let him look out for them. You knew him relatively well, because he’d looked out for you when you started working with his tourism company, helping foreigners book trips with him and accompanying them on trips to help out. You’d worked with him for the past three years, and he’d been kind enough to hire your then boyfriend when he needed a job—though you now understood his reluctance. You wished he’d been more reluctant.

“Well, y/n,” Cob sighed. “Guess this is a new chapter. Any ideas?”

“Islands will gain control more quickly, I think, and there are a couple uninhabited islands we might be able to land at if we get desperate. We have nets, so we can fish if we have to. And if we start getting stills set up now, we can provide ourselves with more water. Revert to basic survival, I think.” You chewed your lip. “But if we’re going to use an uninhabited island, I think we should find one and stick around it, because people are going to try and escape by boat and they might bring it with them. The likelihood of the messages and warnings reaching everyone is slim.”

He sighed and nodded. “Our passengers?”

“Scared. But everyone is checking for the products to dispose of them, as you know, and they’re trying to contact their families back in Korea.”

“Have you tried your family?”

You stared out at the water. “I’m afraid to.”

He nodded again, looking grim. “I’ve heard from a couple other ships. We’re going to have issues with food at some point, so the island idea might be good. Maybe we can work with the other ships as long as they stay uninfected to build a sort of safe-haven?”

“Maybe,” You agreed. “We’ll be breaking laws if we land on some of the islands though. Or fish near them. They are wildlife refuges right now.”

“Hon, I don’t think that’s as big of an issue as of yesterday,” Lori said, shutting the door. “We can respect the wildlife. It would only be temporary, right? I mean, things have to stabilize sometime, and I think the islands should stabilize more quickly.”

You didn’t have very high hopes for the islands stabilizing, unless they were able to quickly regulate who came in and out of the populace of Hawaii. But people were creative and there were thousands of boats and planes in existence.

“Alright, so we’re going to go near the closest uninhabited, and weigh anchor, just for safety. But we’re not going to do anything on the island or any fishing until absolutely necessary. We’ll get some water stills set up, and start rationing the food. Try to preserve some fruits, Lori.”

She nodded. “You got it, Captain. But you better get someone else on those stills. Not my division, you know.”

“I’ll get our engineer on it. Dobby will need to be distracted anyway. Y/n, you should go tell our passengers the plan for now.”

“Right. First, I want a thank you.”

“For?”

“Convincing you to invest in some backup solar power for the ship to run things like the radios.” You paused at the door. “How long can the engines run?”

“I made sure we had enough to last us a couple of months, and I’ve got us going slow to reduce consumption. But we’ll have to start thinking about how to move once we run out, which is why I think your idea for the islands is a good one. The ship would be a safety point, and we could use the life-boats to get back and forth. At least until we have some sort of relief. And we might be able to go somewhere before we run out of gas. You never know. This might blow over quickly.”

“Yeah. Maybe.” You went out to check on the idols and their staff again.

They had gathered in the dining lounge, and everyone was double checking each other to make sure that there weren’t any Biogene products.

“Everyone, I’ve just finished talking to our captain, and he’s asked me to tell you our current course of action,” You started, gathering the idols and staff’s attention to explain things. “We’ve communicated with some other ships, but our current course is to head for an uninhabited island and keep to the coast of that. We have the supplies to fish, and our cook is currently working on preparing the food for rationing. Our top engineer is going to work on making sure we have a constant source of drinkable water, but for now we’re reducing our water usage. We’re scanning the radio frequencies to try and find another source of information for what’s going on out in the world, but right now it’s very quiet. We ask for your cooperation as we continue to approach these problems calmly and rationally, and your patience as we try to figure things out.”

“Is food an issue?” Seokjin asked.

You shook your head. “Not at the moment, we’re just trying to make sure it lasts as long as possible, especially our fruits and vegetables. Anything in the kitchen that we can regrow here on the ship, we will attempt to do so. The ship was stocked for at least a hundred passengers, plus the crew, and since we don’t even reach sixty with the passengers and crew combined, we should be able to hold out for a while, we’re just trying to make our food last as long as possible, which is why we will likely be utilizing the fishing nets, so we can eat and still prepare for the future. Because we have had warning, we have time to prepare for the worst, but we are still hoping for the best. We are not giving way to fear. At the moment, all we’re asking is that you remain calm and patient with us.”

That seemed to be agreeable for everyone, so you bowed a bit and then went to check in with the other translator and manager to find out what you could do to help.

Yoongi intercepted you. “Hey, sorry, I know you’re busy.”

“It’s fine, how can I help you?”

“Um, actually, I was going to ask if there was anything we could do to help? It’d be…hard to just ignore the situation.”

“I understand, unfortunately, at this moment, we’re not even certain what we need to get done. When we do, I will let you know if there is any way for you to help. For now, we have solar power that you can continue to use for charging your phones, just in case you get a call from your families, and we can power the lights. Any extra batteries, try to save them.”

He nodded. “Okay. Shouldn’t they turn of the air conditioning then?”

You shook your head. “That would be inviting trouble. People get less rational when they overly warm or cool. Turning it off would reduce morale.”

He considered it, then nodded. “Okay.”

You nodded as well, then moved on to talk to their managers.

You didn’t sleep that night, helping in the kitchen and mulling over different ideas to try for powering the boat. In theory, with the engineers’ help, you might be able to convert the engines to wind power, or at least move the boat using wind power, if you were careful enough. But where would you get the parts?

And theoretically, some of the fruits and veggies and other things could be regrown.

But what would you grow them in?

Lori had some sitting in a shallow tray of water to start sprouting, and some would continue to grow in just water, but others would need soil.

“Wake up, hon,” Lori said gently, patting your back. “Cap’n wants you. Something on the radio he wants you to hear.”

You rubbed your eyes as you forced yourself up. “How long was I…?”

“An hour,” She said in a scolding tone, giving you a look of disapproval. “A young thing like you needs regular sleep. I could have done that in the morning.”

You shrugged. “My mind wouldn’t shut off. You were awake. Like you said, I’m younger.”

“You tried calling your family?”

You shook your head. If they hadn’t tried to contact you, then there would be no point in trying to contact them. Either the call wouldn’t go through, or there was no one to make the call. Or they just weren’t able to call because they had no means or it was too dangerous. Any way you looked at it, it was safer to allow them to try and contact you. They knew you were on a ship, and your father studied epidemiology, so he would know that the ship would either go down quickly or not at all, barring a few statistical outliers.

Your father always called you a statistical outlier.

“Here, take this up with you, find a spot where it won’t get knocked over that gets some sun and some shade. Okay?”

You nodded, taking the tray up with you.

“Y/n,” Yoongi called, waving.

You nodded your greeting to him and the others, trying to pinpoint a good spot for it, finally finding it on a table that was bolted to the wall.

“Is this what we’re regrowing?”

You jumped a bit, turning to the boys with a hand over your heart. “Um, yes. One of the trays, anyway. We’ve got more down there, but they aren’t full yet so…this is the first one to come up for sunlight.”

“Cool,” Taehyung whispered.

Yoongi looked it over. “It…doesn’t look like much.”

You sighed. “I know. But like I said, if all goes well, these should regrow and we’ll just start the process over again. But I’ve been summoned.”

“Summoned?”

“Y/N to the Bridge, Y/N, please report to the bridge.”

You pointed up at the speakers.

“Oh, and maybe bring one of the representatives with you.”

You sighed. “Um, know where your managers are?”

They all shook their heads.

“I could come,” Yoongi offered.

You considered for a moment, then nodded. “Okay, only to save time though, I’m not going to be the one to get in trouble—got it?”

He nodded, gesturing for you to lead the way.

Cob glanced up when you came in. “You’ll love this. Hey, Johnny, I got my person here, mind repeating that now?”

As Johnny started retelling his tale, you slowly processed and translated for Yoongi.

“They were near one of the islands of Hawaii, and sometime in the night they started hearing noises against the hull of the ship…” You paused, horrified. “The creatures…they can survive in the water, and swim. He lost three people when some of the creatures managed to climb aboard.”

Yoongi looked just as grim. “So we’re not safe, even on a ship away from shore?”

You didn’t know the answer to that. “He says he’s going to see how far away from shore they’re able to follow him. That will help us determine how safe we may or may not be.”

Cob thanked Johnny, then turned to the two of you. “Well, what do you think? Do we tell the others of this possibility, or keep it quiet?”

You weren’t sure how to answer that either. There were pros and cons for both sides. But there were more cons for—

“We don’t tell them,” Yoongi said firmly.

You met his gaze and nodded, translating. “It would just incite panic. We don’t tell them until we know that it is a possibility, and even then, we wait until we’ve calculated when they could reach us.”

Yoongi nodded his agreement.

Cob sighed. “Right. You’re right. I just….”

“Take a break. That’s what Jones is for, so you can take breaks. They’re most active between dusk and dawn, right? Then for now, we just slowly make our way to the proximity of an island, Jones can do that.”

He slowly nodded. “Yeah, he’s on his way, just wanted to try his brother one more time.”

You nodded, then signaled for Yoongi to head for the door. “I’m checking back in half an hour and if you’re still here, I’m kicking heads.”

Cob snorted, but didn’t respond further.

Yoongi sighed outside, leaning against the railing. “This is really bad.”

“Really, really bad,” You agreed, leaning next to him. “You okay to keep this from your bandmates?”

He nodded. “I’ll just say that he asked for a representative agreement from our party that he should head for the nearest uninhabited island, as a formality, obviously.”

“Sounds good. And I was there as a translator.”

“What name would you give these creatures?”

“Based on description? The only word I can think of is in English.”

“And?”

“Zombies,” You offered, giving him an apologetic look.

But he nodded. “That’s what we were saying last night. Jungkook said it first, I think we were all afraid of saying it, but he likes watching those kinds of movies, so it wasn’t surprising that he named it first.”

“But watching movies about it isn’t exactly preparation for the real thing,” You whispered, staring out at the ocean. You usually loved going out on trips like this, even if you were just a translator. This time, though….

“Part of me wishes we’d never come on this trip, but part of me is glad that we did.”

“I understand that,” You whispered. “There are a lot of things that I wish. There are a lot of regrets I could have about this.”

“Y/n!”

You closed your eyes. “Speaking of regrets.”

Your ex came over, half-glaring at Yoongi. “This guy bugging you?”

“No, but you are,” You replied, rolling your eyes and pushing away from the railing, walking toward the stairs. “Don’t you have a job to do?”

“I just wanted to make sure you were holding up okay—”

“Well, I am. There’s no need for you to check on me. I’m doing just fine. Please, don’t check on me again. You do your job and I will do mine,” You snapped, turning to glare at him. “I told you, I have no regrets breaking up with you, and even if I knew the future, I would do it again, and probably sooner.”

“Whoa, no need to be so hostile babe!”

“‘Babe’?” You sneered, resisting the urge to shove him over your shoulder and down the flight of stairs. “You never have, and never will be allowed to call me ‘Babe’.”

“Chill out!”

Yoongi pushed past him and grabbed your wrist, pulling you down the stairs after him while rambling in rapid korean about it being dangerous to fight on stairs and ‘that’s how people get murdered’ and ‘unless that was your plan, which I would vouch for you, but I’m not sure who would believe it’ with an added ‘besides, there are a few witnesses’.

Damn was that hot.

No.

Wait.

Yes.

No. No, no. No, no, no.

He was someone you were working for, he wasn’t allowed to be hot.

And his hand definitely didn’t feel strong and sinewy and attractive.

“Don’t walk away when we’re talking!”

Your hold on Yoongi’s hand tightened.

“Ignore him, come with me. Our security team will block him,” Yoongi said, not looking back. “We have a head start, unless he starts running after us. Why did you break up with him? I mean, I get it, but what was the main reason?”

“Cheating, threatening, trying to emotionally manipulate me,” You listed, doing your best not to look back.

“Figures.”

You could see that the heading of the boat was changing, even as you and Yoongi made your way down to where the other boys and their staff were waiting.

“Block the guy following us,” Yoongi called to the security team as both of you passed by them. “He’s letting the panic get to him.”

The security team easily blocked your ex, and Yoongi led you straight to the poolside.

Namjoon came over quickly. “Any news?”

“Nothing new. Just needed a formal agreement to their plan from someone in our party.”

Jungkook dropped onto a seat nearby. “Any new information about the zombies?”

Yoongi shook his head. “Same as before, I think.”

Jungkook tilted his head. “And what is it that we do know?”

“The mutagen makes people into crazed killers, who don’t like bright lights and can only be stopped by cutting off their heads. Strong mutants that can only be stopped by cutting off their heads, and appear to be decaying. I think the mutagen might stimulate muscle growth while suppressing the nervous system. If I’m understanding things correctly, anyway.” You hesitantly sat down, wondering if that would be okay.

“I don’t know exactly what that means,” Jungkook replied, looking a little lost but curious.

“Well, we know that they’re significantly stronger, but their response to injuries is non-existent. Our nervous system is responsible for sending signals to the brain,” You explained, still thinking it through yourself. “Because it isn’t functioning the way it’s supposed to, maybe the pupils aren’t contracting, or something which makes them more sensitive to light.” But that still didn’t explain how they could survive in the water like they did.

“That makes sense,” Yoongi agreed. “I mean, for me, not knowing that much about the human body.”

“Same, but I remember some things, enough to try and puzzle it out, I guess,” You replied, shrugging a bit and looking around. “I should see if there’s anything I can do.”

“Sleep,” Yoongi said. “You should sleep. You look exhausted. I’ll walk you to your cabin so that jerk can’t ambush you.”

“I don’t want you to go out of your way—”

“It’s fine. You’re our designated liaison between the crew and us. It’s important that you’re safe so that we can continue knowing what is going on without pestering the crew.”

That reasoning was fair, and you appreciated it.

But also, you could see it causing issues.

“Come on, I want to make sure you at least go into your room. You should sleep, you look exhausted, and we know that the zombies aren’t going to attack while it’s this sunny out.”

You squeaked slightly as he pulled you up and after him.

But you didn’t fight him on it.

“Which way is your room?”

You quietly gave him directions, following until he reached your door and then tugging lightly on his hand to get his attention before he kept going. “This is it.”

He glanced over the door and nodded. “Right. Okay. Try to sleep, okay? We’re pretty far away from any major population so it should take a while for any zombies in the water to reach us, if they even can. We know they can go some distance, but not how far that distance is. So, rest. We’re going to have to be more alert at night anyway.”

You nodded. “You try to rest too. It’s easier to lie when you’re well-rested.”

He looked a bit grim at that. “Right. Good point. Good thing I’ve always been one to rest when possible.”

You unlocked your door and started in, stopping when he gently caught your upper arm.

“Hey, thank you, again, for everything you’re doing. I know you probably feel guilty because you sold us this package and now we’re all here, but you have no idea how grateful we were to have a ship like this essentially to ourselves.”

You shrugged. “You were booking in the off-season. We were lucky anyone was looking for a ship to commandeer.”

He smiled. “Whatever you say. Sleep well, y/n.”

You watched him walk away for a while, then slowly closed the door, once more pushing down thoughts of how attractive your client was.

———

The first zombie crawled onto the ship during a storm.

You had been eating with all of the guests, looked out the window and did a double-take. “Dobby! Come here.”

Dobby, the head engineer, politely excused himself and came over to join you at the window. “What is it?”

You pointed. “Stern, crawling over the railing.”

He squinted as he tried to see, flinching as lightning flashed—but gasping a bit as he spotted the zombie.

“Everyone is accounted for, right?”

“Right. Okay. Show-time, I guess. Bernie! Clyde! Time to get the lights on and try and decapitate a creature!”

You kept scanning the ship to check for anything else. “Someone tell the captain!”

“Yes, miss,” Clyde called.

Yoongi joined you, looking out. “Guess we know how long it takes for a zombie to swim to us.”

“Yup. Seven days. But it looks weaker than I expected. Maybe it is physically tiring?” You folded your arms, wincing as the floodlights turned on.

It was hideous. It looked like a human, but the skin looked like it had been boiling, and the eyes were strange—the irises almost black, and far too large, to easily noticeable from the distance. It’s jaw seemed unhinged, the mouth hanging open and not moving at all as a guttural screech emanated from it.

“No wonder people are so terrified,” Yoongi whispered.

“I’d like to wake up now,” Hoseok whispered behind you.

“Let’s get to safety, everyone,” You said softly. “Head down into the hallway. Just like we practiced.”

The soft noises of activity soon followed, everyone hearing you in their horrified silence, and moving to act as you had all practiced in the evacuation drills that had started four days ago. There were about eight different contingencies and several ranks of command.

Yoongi’s hand slid around yours, fingers locking around your fingers, and he squeezed your hand slightly. “Assuming it’s contagious. How long do you think we can hold out against the majority of the population of the world being zombified?”

“I think we’re lucky if we last a month like this,” You replied quietly. “We have little fortification, a few sporadic ships that may or may not be able to provide us with help, and no signs of any government being able to assist those who have survived. We’re in a warmer climate, which probably isn’t helping, and we have no idea if this contagion can spread to or through animals.”

“And no way of finding out except through evidence.”

“Essentially,” You whispered, looking around the deck and checking the positions of the crew as they carefully surrounded the zombie to try and dispatch it—the storm not exactly helping matters. “Come on, Dobby.”

You both fell quiet as you watched the crew carefully, and successfully, dispatch the zombie, both breathing sighs of relief.

“The storm should let up soon,” Yoongi murmured.

You nodded, still watching the crew members to make sure they made it to safety.

A few minutes later the all-clear signal sounded over the P.A. system.

Yoongi tugged your hand lightly. “Come on. I need a break from everyone.”

“Then, go, I’ll cover for you.”

“Nah, I want you to come with me. You need a break from everyone’s expectations.” He squeezed your hand, and gently tugged you along.

“But, why do you want me with you?” You asked.

He huffed. “Because I do.”

“Okay,” You replied, still confused.

He led you to his cabin (which was one of the best) and locked the door. “So they don’t come barging in. They do that sometimes.”

You nodded, looking around the cabin casually, even though you knew what they looked like and had cleaned these rooms on more than one occasion.

“We were actually worried at first, because Hoseok gets seasick, but he’s being doing well. Sometimes it’s hard to remember that we’re on a ship.”

“And then a storm hits and you remember all of those movies and true stories about shipwrecks?”

He chuckled lightly. “Yeah. I don’t think I could face them all right now, especially since they’ll be figuring out that zombies can reach us out here. Let them think what they want about us not being around. Our video crew has been filming for posterity, and it’s exhausting. Who’s going to care about how we spent our days on this ship?”

“Well, if we survive, meaning the human race as a whole, I imagine one day they may use it to make a film about you,” You joked, watching the rain pelt the windows.

“You too.”

“Why would they care about an extra translator? No, I’d be cut out and replaced with a super-secret girlfriend love interest, who obviously is terrified and you would save her from the zombies, because the truth and accuracy are inconsequential, and what’s important is the story.”

“Not that you care,” He teased.

“No, never, why would I care. Like I said, I make for a boring story,” You waved it away. “Besides, their movie would probably have a better ending than what reality will give us.”

“Maybe not,” He whispered, also looking outside. “You’re looking at the worse situation, right?”

“Probably.”

“So, best situation is we’re able to survive. We get through this. We set up defenses and we help other people to defend themselves and join us in fighting against these zombies, and…yes, the world will be different, but it will still be here. I mean, there are people in all sorts of remote places in the world, and we hope they’ve been warned, but most of all, they’re there. They may be safe. And maybe some of the defenses of the different countries are still standing. Military bases, forts, bunkers…we have to believe that there is still hope out there. We just…don’t know how to gauge how much hope there is.”

You pulled out your phone, noticing that you still had a signal. Noticing that you had a notification. “We need to get you back to the other boys.”

“What?”

“Come on. We’re going to talk to your staff and get you set up for a live on YouTube.”

“You don’t really think that’s still—”

“I do.”

“Wait,” He pulled you to a stop and turned you toward him. “Explain.”

“You have over 50 million subscribers, and are one of the top boybands in the world. You go live, you might be able to help us figure out how many people are still out there. It might connect you guys back to your family. To the family of the staff. We might be able to get help with making our boat defensible, or we might be able to meet up with a naval vessel that has been unaffected. It’s a long shot, but any sort of chance is a chance we should take, right?”

His eyes widened, and he looked troubled, but he nodded. “Okay. Alright. But you should join us in the video as a proper translator.”

“No, you’ll be fine, we can write out a message for Namjoon to read or something. We can plan things out, what you guys say and all of that. If there are other people out there, members of army, maybe they could use a familiar face.”

He still held you in place. “Okay. Let me change.”

You nodded. “I’ll wait outside.”

He nodded, but didn’t let go. “Hey, y/n?”

“Yes?”

He smiled softly. “If we were destined to get stuck on this cruise ship, I’m glad destiny chose you to be here too.”

Your heart was pounding in your ears, and you felt too warm all over and you spluttered something out and darted out the door as your brain went into a complete meltdown.

“Playboy!” You mind screamed.

“Honeyboy!” Your fangirl screamed.

“BREATHE!” Your lungs shouted as you wheezed and slid down the wall of the hallway.

He came out a few minutes later, and looked at you slightly confused. “Um, why are you sitting on the floor? Did I take that long?”

“Nah, I’m just, you know, meditating,” You refused to meet his eyes because if you did you would start your freakout all over again. Stupid fangirl. It was the zombie apocalypse and all your brain was telling you was that he was glad you were there and he was looking at you and that he kept getting you alone and talking with you and….

And oh no. Oh no no.

Did he like you?

Zombies. Focus on the zombies.

He was holding your hand again.

Apparently, he’d messaged the other boys and they were already gathered and the staff were there setting things up, and you guessed the translator or Namjoon had told some of the crew what they were doing, because they were helping set up. And they were doing V-Live and YouTube at the same time.

You stayed behind the cameras with a small whiteboard to help when they got stuck and to give them further things to say in English to try and help.

You considered them having at least half a million views encouraging, but you could tell that even the BTS staff were disconcerted at the small number.

Eventually the boys were mostly just talking to continue it and reassure anyone that may be watching that for the moment they were safe, and that they hoped that everyone else was safe as well. That they hoped this would pass soon.

They talked about the food, Jungkook and Taehyung belted out a few bars of different songs at intervals, Hoseok did his best to be bright and hopeful, Seokjin and Jimin jokingly flirted with the camera, Namjoon made faces and cracked a joke or two, and Yoongi talked about the future. Yoongi talked about someday looking back on this, just as we look back, and being able to think of it as a historical event that the world conquered.

They had over four million viewers when they ran out of things to say and decided to end it.

“So, again, these videos are going to be posted as soon as possible, and we hope we can meet up with and help those who may be in similar situations, or maybe those who are trapped can get help through this. Even if we just brought a moment of happiness, we will find fulfillment in that. We love you, and hope to see you all again.”

Jungkook and Jimin were crying shortly after the cameras were off.

Hoseok hugged onto them, which prompted Taehyung to hug them as well.

Seokjin tugged the other two into their impromptu group hug.

You set aside the whiteboard and headed outside, the rain finally gone. It was lighter than before, and the sun was trying to peek through again. Not quite successful yet, but every here and there you could spot a beam of sunlight breaking through.

The waves were still pretty intense, but not as bad as they could have been given the storm.

And there were gulls.

Which meant the boat was close enough to a land mass that the birds could fly out.

You hurried up to the bridge, not bothering to ask permission. “How far are we from land?”

“Well, we’ve slowed down and drifted slightly off course, which may be a good thing, since that creature crawled aboard, but,” Cob gestured to the maps he was using. “According to radar and such, we should be able to see the island in about half an hour.”

“But if the zombie came from there, we could be in trouble.”

He grunted.

You sighed, staring out at the turbulent waters. “The island could only be so big, though, which means that if they did come from there, there couldn’t have been too many people there to begin with. Right?”

“Unless it came from one of the ships we were going to be meeting up with.”

“Are we going to die?”

“Not if I have any say in it.”

“Okay. Then we’ll circle around, do our best to fortify and defend the ship, and hope for the best.” You bit your lip. “Right?”

Cob placed an arm around your shoulders. “Take heart, lass. Do something fun, would you? It’s not the end of the world yet, and there’s plenty of daylight to be had. Why don’t you see if that cat-boy wants to go to the bush-whacked deck and splash some paint around. You can take the others there some other time, but he seems to help you lighten up.”

You were a little busy trying not to die from Cob calling Yoongi a cat-boy. “Yoongi. His name is Yoongi.”

“Right. Couldn’t recall. Lots of names to remember. But he reminded me of a cat. Not in a bad way—”

“I’m going to go paint in the bushwhack deck. Don’t expect anything pretty.”

“I don’t,” He laughed happily.

You weren’t sure you wanted to try and find Yoongi, so you resolved to go change into clothes you could paint in first.

“Hey.”

You jumped, squeaked, and lashed out—nearly missing Yoongi.

He looked at you with wide eyes, just sort of blinking while you processed everything that just happened.

“Hi. Sorry. Hi.” You covered your heart to make sure it was still inside of you.

“Where you off to?”

“Um, you know the deck that’s off-limits?”

He nodded, looking a little wary.

“That’s because it’s under renovation. So, the crew goes there to vent and get away from everyone else. So, I’m going to change into clothes that I don’t mind getting paint on, and I’m going to go have fun splashing paint on everything.”

“Ah.”

“Would you like to come with me?”

He glanced over to where the others were still gathered, contemplating it. “Just me.”

“You can tell them to sneak down at a later time.”

He nodded slowly, then more vigorously. “Okay. I’ll meet you down there in ten, and tell them to come down in an hour or something?”

“That works.” You smiled a bit. “See you there.”

He nodded again, leaned in and kissed your cheek, and then walked back toward the others.

Your brain short-circuited as you hurried to your room to change and go down to the deck to pull out the paint and brushes.

Yoongi didn’t say anything as he joined you, simply helped move the paints into the room you wanted to paint in. It was one of the rooms with windows, so it had some natural light. But it also still had a bed in it, so you had to cover that with the plastic tarps.

But Yoongi stopped you. “You rushed up to talk to the captain. What scared you?”

You shrugged slightly. “The seagulls.”

His eyebrows drew together. “Birds scare you?”

“The fact that they can only go so far from land without dying does,” You elaborated. “I just wanted to see if it was a fluke from a storm.”

“And?”

“We’re nearing the island. It will be visible in about an hour at the speed we’re going, which is the slowest speed possible.”

He nodded. “So the zombie may have come from there.”

“Possibly,” You whispered.

He swore, closing his eyes as he pulled you into a hug.

You froze for a moment, then relaxed into the hug, wrapping your arms around him as well.

“You wouldn’t be some insignificant side character, y/n,” He whispered. “You’d be the main character.”

“Yeah right,” You choked out.

He held you tighter. “You would. You definitely would. That would be the only way the movie would have any plot.”

He drew back, resting a hand on your cheek. “I would love to be your romantic interest in the movie too.”

“We’re facing the end of humanity.”

“Which is why it’s important,” He answered easily. “Which is why I want to tell you that I was interested in you from the day we met you on the docks. You’re intelligent, beautiful, and strong. Stronger than me, stronger than most people on this ship. Do you object to me being interested in you? The world has gone to hell, people won’t need a boyband when this is over. They’ll need farmers, builders, engineers, and families.”

“Families,” You repeated quietly.

He nodded, taking your hands. “Families. I can never leave the other boys, they’re my family, especially if my actual relatives….”

“I understand.”

“But…maybe we can live somewhere together. Near each other, but separated.”

“You understand I used to be an Army?” You double-checked.

He grinned, laughing. “Yeah. I knew it when you laughed at one of the jokes. Usually only army’s understand it. I think it’s sort of fitting.”

“I’ve got a concussion and I’m having a weird dream,” You said, closing your eyes because that was the only logical explanation.

Except he kissed you.

And dang was he a good kisser.

“GET AWAY FROM HER!”

You jumped, turning toward your fuming ex-boyfriend. “Oh my God, go away!”

“Take your hands off of my girl!” He bellowed at Yoongi.

YOongi frowned and pulled you closer. “What is he holding?”

You glanced down and realized it was some sort of pill bottle. “Oh my God…tell me those aren’t from—”

“It’s all a hoax, you’re doing this to try and torment me, right? I’ll prove my love for you is stronger than anything.”

“Don’t! Please don’t!” You started toward him, but it was too late.

You watched in horror as he downed several pills.

“There, see! I’m fine! It’s all a hoax so that these terrorists can take over!”

You choked a little. “You need to get those out of your system—now! Even if they don’t turn you, that’s enough to overdose!”

“I told you! I’m fine!” He yelled, but his voice had already started changing.

“We need to get out of here before he changes,” Yoongi whispered. “Windows?”

“Only if you want to go swimming,” You replied. “Grab the chair and throw it at him.”

“Uh….”

“Do it!” You ordered, hurrying to a paint can.

Your ex made an ungodly noise as the chair hit him and you were quick to follow, swinging the full paint can at his head with as much velocity as you could muster.

Yoongi grabbed your hand and both of you started sprinting away. “What do we do? If he goes up, he could run into any number of people?”

“We have to take care of it before he can fully change. We need a way to cut off his head.”

“I don’t suppose he’d hold still while we used a saw?”

“Probably not,” You answered, looking around as the two of you ran. Finally you spotted something useful. “Break in case of emergencies, right?”

Your ex made that ungodly screeching noise again, and his footsteps were unnaturally fast as they beat the ground behind you and Yoongi.

Yoongi hurried ahead and broke open the case with something he must have picked up, grabbing the ax.

You stopped to throw a piece of furniture in the zombie’s path, hoping it would slow him down or trip him up or anything that might give you the advantage.

The two of you darted upstairs after doing your best to block the door.

Then you took the ax. “Sound the alarm.”

He grabbed the handle of the ax. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Leading him away from the crowd. We don’t have time to debate—”

He took it and started running. “Sound the alarm. He’s focused on me.”

You looked after him in horror, then quickly started running toward the nearest place you could trigger an alarm, ducking into a room so that the zombie wouldn’t see you, holding your breath.

Finally, you could hear it going after Yoongi.

You signaled the bridge then hurried after them, looking for anything that would help along the way.

Only to see Yoongi barely holding the zombie off, even in the bright sunlight.

You went barreling into it, all while your mind screamed at you and tried to tell you to stop.

Or maybe that was Yoongi.

But it gave Yoongi the space and time to swing the ax, catching the zombie’s neck and knocking it back.

You grabbed a lifebuoy and pushed it over his head, trapping his arms. “Finish him!”

And Yoongi did, though you both stared in horror at the by-product of your battle.

You met his gaze, swallowing hard. “Is this a dream?”

He reached out and pulled you away from the body. “We need to wash the blood off. Come on.”

You were shaking all over, so it was a miracle you managed to walk without tripping.

Dobby and the others hosed both of you down, making sure the water sprayed straight off the deck, then went to clean things while the Bangtan staff brought both of you towels.

“How did that get onto the ship in broad daylight?” Cob asked, hurrying up.

You looked up at him. “It was Charlie.”

“Charlie let it get on the ship?”

“No,” You answered, confused. “That thing…was Charlie. He had pills. Pills from Biogene.”

“You should have let me throw him overboard,” He muttered, petting your head, and then physically maneuvering Yoongi to check him over. “Good. You look unhurt. Wouldn’t want to cut your head off too.”

Yoongi was just a little stunned.

“Get them out of this wind!” Lori huffed, glaring at everyone and then ushering the two of you inside and out of the wind. “You need to get into dry clothing, come on. You, you’re one of his brothers?”

The boys all froze.

She gently shoved Yoongi toward them. “Make sure he gets changed and tuck him in. Marta! Get soup to both rooms.”

You didn’t object to her manhandling, just accepting it because Lori could take you if she put her mind to it, and she was right there ready to take you.

She bundled you in blankets after helping you change into dry clothing, scolded Marta for taking so long bringing the soup, and she force-fed you the soup.

When she had done that, you knew it was time to push a bit.

“I need to go talk to him,” You whispered, ignoring the trembling of your hands and the comforting call of your bed.

Lori looked you in the eye, evaluating you, then nodded. “Let me fix your hair.”

You nodded and let her work, not even checking her work before you and your blanket wrap were heading to Yoongi’s room.

His door was open, and the others were there, but he saw you, and he pushed himself up.

The others glanced over to see what had caught his attention, then seemed to all find an excuse to leave the two of you alone.

You wandered over to the bed as the boys left.

Yoongi looked up at you, eyes sad. “Are you okay?”

You shrugged, slowly sitting on the edge of the bed. “I now know that my instincts to survive are strong enough to kill someone that I know once they’ve turned. So…I’m dealing with that.”

He shuddered and reached out, pulling you down into his arms. “We did what was necessary for the survival of everyone else on this ship.”

“How many friends are we going to lose because of all of this?”

He shook his head. “Let’s not go there.”

You turned your head into his shoulder, fighting back the tears. You had to separate moments out by mere seconds: him kissing you, a moment, and then your ex turning into a zombie. There was a moment in there, that you wished you could imagine was longer.

His fingers stroked your hair lightly, then rested on your back. “But you know…I think we’re going to be just fine. We definitely need more weapons, but I think we’ll make it.”

“You know something I don’t?”

He nodded. “While we were downstairs, a naval vessel contacted the captain. They’re about a day away from us.”

“They know the zombies can swim?”

“They do. And they’ve checked all quarters and removed all Biogene products. They had a small issue at the beginning, but they’ve got it under control now. They’re going to meet with us, and we’re going to work together. They had some civilians that they rescued, and not enough beds, so we’ll take some of their civilians, and perhaps some of their soldiers.”

“And the government?”

“It’s…sort of functioning. Multiple ones are functioning on a…mild capacity. Enough to try and organize their military to reclaim lands.”

“So, where are we being escorted?”

“I don’t know. That’s about all the information that was received, I guess. I’m sure we’ll find out more when we meet up. But…it’s good, right? That we’re able to meet up with a naval vessel?”

You nodded. “As long as we don’t get overrun by zombies tonight.”

“What a bright side,” He chuckled, lightly stroking your back. “Y/n.”

You relaxed at the gentle tone in which he said your name.

“Whatever happens, let’s make it through this together? I don’t have too many skills that are usable outside of music, but I’ll do whatever it takes to take care of you?”

You peeked up at him. “Are you sure?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I’m sure. I might be relying on you, though.”

You wrapped your arms around him. “That’s fine. I can handle that. If you’re okay with me falling apart now and than.”

“I’ll try and hold you together,” He replied, squeezing you. “We’ve got a couple hours of daylight. Want to nap?”

You pushed yourself fully onto the bed and let him help you under the covers. “Yeah, okay. I could sleep.”

He smiled, taking your hand as you both lay on your sides, facing one another. “Sweet dreams, y/n.”

“Sweet dreams,” You whispered back, still studying him with your eyes half-closed.

If you could make it to safety, then spending your life with him would be great. Better than great.

“Don’t let the zombies bite,” He murmured, smiling slightly at the teasing, and the way you swatted him.

Then you let the subtle sway of the ship rock you into sleep next to the man you just might love.

#yoongi #btswritingbingo #min yoongi #yoongi x reader #min yoongi x reader #suga x reader #zombie!au #zombie au #zombie apocolypse au #bts fic #suga #namjoon #jungkook #seokjin #hoseok #jimin #taehyung

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engie-ivy · 3 years

Text

“What are you saying, Remus?”

Remus doesn’t spare him. “You won’t get custody over Harry as long as I’m around.”

Sirius closes his eyes. “It doesn’t stop, does it?”

It was supposed to be better after the war...

Already Decided

“I’m surprised you found me,” Remus says, folding his arms over his chest.

Dumbledore looks up from the cup of tea he’s holding. “I wasn’t aware you were trying to hide.”

Remus shrugs. “I wasn’t. Not per se. It’s just been so long. I figured I’d be hard to track.”

Dumbledore takes in Remus’ worn robes, greying hair and the dark circles under his eyes. “You look bad.”

“Why, thank you,” Remus says with a wry laugh. “That’s what years of living with my condition tends to do.”

“I would’ve thought the new Wolfsbane Potion made things easier for you.”

Now Remus laughs out loud. “Yes, because of course an expensive potion targeted to a population for whom it’s practically impossible to get a decent job is going to solve it all.”

“I actually got a job offer for you,” Dumbledore responds. “I’m in need of a new Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher.”

This makes Remus laugh again. “Well, that doesn’t surprise me.”

Dumbledore puts down his tea. “I assume you’ve heard about Pettigrew’s escape?”

Remus’ face darkens. “Yes. I assume you know about...?”

“His Animagus form?” Dumbledore finishes. “I’ve been informed. I must say, Lupin, I’m disappointed in you. When I gave you the opportunity to attend Hogwarts, I had expected you to adhere to the rules set for the other students’ safety.”

There was a time in which Dumbledore’s disappointment would’ve gutted Remus. Hearing the words now, however, he can’t bring himself to care. It’s been a long time since he cared. “So, do you expect that Pettigrew will be targeting Harry Potter?”

“It’s possible,” Dumbledore replies calmly. “Harry Potter’s godfather is concerned, to say the least. It’ll help if I hire a trustworthy Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher to keep an eye out. He wasn’t well pleased with me when the last one I hired tried to Obliviate Harry, and the one before that tried to kill him.”

“I reckon he wasn’t,” Remus replies.

“If you were willing to fill the position, you could be provided with a vast supply of Wolfsbane,” Dumbledore says casually.

“While if I refuse your bribe, you’ll leave me to my fate?”

Dumbledore doesn’t even bother to reply.

Remus sighs. “I used to admire you, you know.” He shakes his head. Anyways, if you want to appease Harry Potter’s godfather, you shouldn’t be asking me. I’d assume he hates me.”

“I thought Harry Potter’s godfather was your friend?” Dumbledore asks innocently.

Remus clenches his jaw. “You know very well what he was to me.”

12 years earlier

Remus lowers the letter he’d been reading when he hears the front door open. He still feels the urge to jump to his feet and grab his wand, but the war is over and a door opening doesn’t mean an attack might be coming anymore.

“So, Dumbledore tells me they’re going to give Malfoy the benefit of the doubt,” Sirius immediately goes off as he enters the kitchen. “Can you believe it? I’ll kiss Kreacher before I believe he acted under the influence of the Imperius Curse!” He shrugs off his leather jacket and hangs it over a chair. “But Dumbledore says we have to believe it as long as we don’t have strong evidence that proofs the contrary.” He rolls his eyes. “Yet they sent Pettigrew to Azkaban without so much as a trial.”

Remus arches an eyebrow. “Surely you don’t mind that?”

“Of course not!” Sirius’ face darkens as he remembers the mass murder, but even worse, the betrayal that signed their best friends’ death sentences. “But if they’re going to send people to prison without a trial, I wish they’d do it with the rich ones as well. No double standards, y’know?”

His eyes fall in the letter Remus had been reading. “What’s that?”

Remus hands it to him wordlessly. No use postponing it.

Eviction Notice

To: R. J. Lupin

According to our information, you, as a registrant of the Lycanthrope Database, are currently the inhabitant of this premise.

Regretfully, we must inform you that under the recently passed Anti-Werewolf Legislation Act of 1981, it is stated that ‘no one affected with the Lycanthropy affliction is allowed to live within a 10-kilometre radius from an urban area, where the creature can pose a danger to others’.

In accordance with this law, we urge you to vacate this premise as soon as possible, as otherwise legal action shall be undertaken.

Was signed,

The Ministry of Magic

Remus studies Sirius’ face closely while he’s reading, and he sees it: Sirius is worried and tired. So very tired. Only for a split second, then Sirius plasters that unaffected smile on his face as he throws the letter back on the table. “Well, that was to be expected any time now. We’ll find a way to deal with that later.”

He’s pretending for my sake, Remus thinks. Acting like he’s not concerned, so I won’t feel guilty.

“I should leave,” Remus says.

“We probably should,” Sirius sighs. “I don’t really see another outcome. I’m sure we’ll be able to find a new place we can live. I’ll start asking around.”

“And then what?” Remus asks. “A week, maybe two, until another letter comes?”

“What would you suggest, then?”

“I already suggested it,” Remus says. “I should leave.”

“No.”

“Padfoot...”

“No! For Godric’s sake, Moony! We fought a war together! We risked our lives for each other! We faced death side by side! We managed to withstand suspicion and false accusations! And now you want to give up because of a dumb letter?”

“It’s not just the letter,” Remus says. “You know it’s not! The attitude towards werewolves in England has always been bad, but now so many werewolves have fought on You Know Who’s side during the war and the tales of Greyback’s cruelties are rapidly spreading through the wizarding community, it has gotten so much worse. It won’t stop here.”

“Then we’ll spread the tale of the brave werewolf in the Order of the Phoenix who risked his life fighting for what's right!” Sirius exclaims.

Remus shakes his head. “They won’t listen. You know what people are like. They only listen to stories that fit within their pre-existing worldview. Fear will lead to hatred, and it’s only a matter of time before hatred leads to violence. It’s not safe for me to remain in England.”

“We’ll move to some cottage in the countryside,” Sirius pleads. “Far away from any ‘urban area’, where no one will bother us! Or we’ll cross the English Channel into France! I speak French!”

Remus gives him a small, sad smile. “You’re trying to get custody over Harry. The Ministry won’t grant you custody if you live in some abandoned cottage, far away from any facilities, schools, and other children to play with, much less if you go abroad without a job, or even a place to live.”

“The hearing for Harry’s custody is next week,” Sirius replies stubbornly. “Once we have it, we can do whatever we want!”

It’s tempting. Merlin, it’s tempting. Remus wants nothing more than to be persuaded by Sirius’ arguments, to believe it really is possible, that Harry, Sirius and he can live happily ever after in some cottage in the countryside, together. But Remus has to be sensible.

“Harry is their national treasure,” he says. “The famous Boy Who Lived. Lily and James made their wishes evidently clear, but still many people from the Ministry don’t want to see him raised by a Black. They’ll latch on to every little thing they can to deny you custody. And being associated with a werewolf is no little thing.”

Sirius looks at him, fear visible in his eyes. “What are you saying, Remus?”

Remus doesn’t spare him. “You won’t get custody over Harry as long as I’m around.”

Sirius closes his eyes. “It doesn’t stop, does it?”

“Sirius...”

“Fabian, Gideon, Marlene, Dorcas, Regulus, Lily, James... Hasn’t it been enough?”

Remus gets up from his chair and sits down on his knees in front of Sirius, taking his hands in his own. “Look at me, Sirius. Please look at me.”

Sirius opens his eyes, silent tears streaming down his face. “Don’t,” he whispers. “Don’t make me choose. You’re all I have left. You and Harry... You’re all I have left. Please, don’t make me choose.”

Remus gathers the trembling man in front of him in his arms and rubs soothing circles on his back. “I won’t,” he says. “I promise I won’t make you choose.”

Sirius pulls away slightly to cup Remus’ face in his hands and searches his eyes, looking for the lie. Remus encircles his wrists with his hands and looks back with a steady gaze.

“I love you, Remus Lupin,” Sirius says earnestly, almost like a challenge.

“I love you too, Sirius,” Remus replies without hesitation.

Sirius kisses him fiercely, desperately. Remus allows himself to get caught up in it, allows himself to forget. Forget about the prejudice, the legislation, the letter, the hearing. Forget about everything, just for the moment. Everything but the feel of Sirius’ lips on his skin and Sirius’ hands on his body.

Afterwards, Remus is lying on his back in their bed, staring up at the ceiling. Sirius is fast asleep, tucked against his side, an arm splayed across his chest and his head resting in the crook of his neck.

Moonlight drifts through the curtains. Moonlight. Moonlight that has already taken so much from him. This will be the last. After this, there’s nothing left.

He carefully detangles himself from Sirius and silently puts his clothes back on. As he looks down on Sirius’ sleeping form, he can’t help but reach out and carefully brush a strand of hair from his face. “I won’t make you choose,” he whispers. “I’ve already chosen for you.”

Sirius takes a few sips from the water placed in front of him, while the wizard at the other side of the table, a middle-aged man in sharp, dark blue wizarding robes, rummaged through his papers.

“Well, Mr Black,” he says, as Sirius places his glass back down. “The documents seem to be in order. Mr and Mrs Potter were very thorough in their paperwork. They have fully filled in each form, dated and signed by both of them. I must say, their wishes are evidently clear.”

The witch sitting next to the man, a short woman with a broad face, wide mouth and bulging eyes, somehow reminding Sirius of a toad, wearing pink, frilly robes, lets out a small cough.

The wizard, however, ignores her. “I assume you’ve been thinking about practical matters, such as education and healthcare?”

The witch makes another coughing noise.

The wizard pointedly keeps ignoring her. “I must tell you, even if you’re given custody, the Ministry is planning on monitoring the child closely. With everything he’s been through and the publicity around him, it’s a precarious situation. If we find that you cannot offer the boy a stable home environment...”

The toad-like witch lets out another small cough. The wizard grits his teeth, but Sirius is barely aware of it. He finally feels an emotion burning through the numbness, something fierce. “I will provide him with a home.”

“Don’t get me wrong, Mr Black,” the wizard says. “I’m not trying to aggravate you. It’s for your own sake, as well as the boy’s. Mr Black, you’re only twenty-two years old, you’ve been through some very traumatic events, and you’re offering to take care of an infant child as a single parent. It’s not unreasonable to fear you may get overwhelmed-”

Another one of those small coughs, and the wizard jerks his head around. “Dolores, is there anything you’d like to add, or can I perhaps get you something for your throat?”

The toad-like witch doesn’t hesitate to take over the conversation, her iron-grey eyes boring into Sirius’ empty grey ones.

“You’re known to have close associations with a Lycanthrope.” She speaks in a high-pitched voice that makes an oddly terrifying contrast with the cruelty in her eyes.

“I used to have,” Sirius replies.

She raises her eyebrows. “Not anymore?”

“Not anymore.”

“So there won’t be a dangerous dark creature hovering around the small child?”

“There won’t.”

“And where is the werewolf now, then?”

“I don’t know.”

“How do you not-”

“Mr Black,” the wizard interrupts the toad-like witch. “Perhaps you can save us time by just telling Ms Umbridge what your current relationship to R.J. Lupin is?”

Sirius drinks the rest of his water, which he knows to be heavily spiked with Veritaserum, before answering. “There is none. He left, and I don’t think I’ll ever see him again.”

#my tumblr writing #wolfstar angst #sad wolfstar #wolfstar #wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstar fic #marauders #marauders fanfiction #marauders fic #sirius black #remus lupin #remus x sirius #first wizarding war #hurt sirius black #sirius black does not go to azkaban #hurt remus lupin

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the-darklings · 3 years

Note

*kicks down your door* Can I get a whole alphabet with the psycho husband please?? (Not the sandy one thanks) 🤡

asking for lucien & trash-talking the elder? iconic behaviour. so this is for npfh!lucien/reader but the inbox still open for other characters/ships (or combos)

ADORABLE (what do they find especially endearing?)

endearing isn't a word often associated with Lucien but if there's one thing he might later down the line find somewhat amusing and kinda cute it's the willingness to oppose him, especially in a physical sense. there's little chance to win against him but deep down he might find that willingness to not back down cute/admirable, even if it's likely to come out as sardonic on his part

BARGAIN (how do they get their way?)

well, he's good at getting his way, lets just say that. towards others he's usually downright menacing but Lucien has a presence that's frightening on a good day, much less if he's actually angry. in a relationship he's def more maniable but not by much. usually if he sees something has to go one way, he's stuck in that mindset for a while, he's too individualistic for anything else which can def cause arguments/disagreements

COMMUNICATE (what is their love language?)

physical touch is a big one for him. because he allows very few lay hands on him after the kind of life he's had, so him taking pleasure from your touch is the biggest and surest way to know he cares and wants you. be it a gentle touch (rare but possible) or meaner more rough handling (careful enough not to hurt but only just), it's his secondary language of communication since he's not the talkative one especially about feelings

DEVOTED (how do they show they're serious?)

you know. just... trust me, you really know. Lucien makes no exceptions for anyone (except clara/v) so if you're his person the mere way he looks at you is different, the air around you for him is different. a massive cat that hates everyone else purring in your lap energy. there's also the fact that he actually seeks you out while he usually very much prefers to be completely alone.

ENCHANTED (what first caught their eye?)

it's unlikely the first impression was a positive either from his side or yours, or both. he doesn't really see or take note of others often. people are more background noise for him after being locked up for so long so he's still learning in that regard. but one thing you would def need with Lucien is perseverance and patience, so that dedication not to give up on him despite the prickly edges is likely the first thing he would take note of. physically you can be as beautiful as you want, he won't care about that. lust for him is nothing more than an itch. you could try and wear him down and get him to fuck you but don't expect it to mean anything to him or for him to come back for seconds, he doesn't operate that way.

FLIRTY (how do they flirt?)

his flirting is honestly more sly, mean-edged wordplay. he's not the flirty type to begin with so don't expect anything flustering (unless you're more into the rough-spoken/meaner wordplay) but you being clingy after he returns from a long period away would certainly prompt a few comments.

GENTLE (how do they provide comfort?)

again, not particularly amazing with words, and even worse with comfort. he's not the mopey type and will not sit around handing you tissues. if someone hurt you? they're dead, simple as. but if it's being upset by some outside factor, he would likely have a hard time wrapping his mind around it (more so a consequence of his lifestyle/upbringing) so the more likely course of action would be a distraction. whether this is physical or activity-based is up to you.

HOT (what is their favourite look on their partner?)

something easy for him to rip off your body, also enjoys you naked in nothing but his shirts. he's really tall (like the man is 6.1 1/5) so anything of his usually hangs down to your tighs. he also likes the easy access : )

INTIMATE (what kind of date do they like?)

he's not really the dating type. spending time together in silence or murmurs of quiet conversation is usually as close you come to a date. sometimes, if needed for a job for the pit, you might tag along if he needs to go pay a visit at a club etc. then maybe some dancing. he's not half bad at it, either. but he def enjoys watching you if you dance, his eyes are unlikely to slip away once.

JEALOUS (how jealous are they? how do they show it?)

oh, he gets jealous alright. if you're the exception, you're the exception. he won't share you with anyone except clara but that's a topic for another time. he's not about to go alpha male type but the air around him is chilling. he trusts you (if you managed to wear him down enough to be with him, he knows you're not some flimsy wet wipe who's easily swayed) but the other party can def get into trouble. also most certainly expect some rough sex that evening, he's far greedier but equally so more attentive.

KARMA (how do they apologize?)

he has a hard time apologising. not because he can't accept the fact that he's done something wrong/is prideful but mainly because things people do get upset about often seem so trivial to him. again, more so a byproduct of the life he's had opposed to any actual unwillingness to say sorry. actual words would likely only leave his lips if something major has happened.

LUST (favourite thing about their partner?)

willingness to stick by him because he knows full well he's not the easiest crayon in the box to colour your life with. physically, likely laugh and durability : )

MEMORY (what's their favourite memory together?)

likely the first kiss but for different reasons. for you, it's a victory and confirmation you're feelings are not once sided after a sizable struggle to get closer to him while for him it's likely the first time in years he's felt a physical draw that goes beyond just wanting to scratch an itch. also, first person besides clara he felt anything other than indifference or hatred towards. the memory itself is a searing thing infused with passion so it's certainly one to remember.

NORMAL (what does a normal day look like for them?)

there's no such thing as "normal" with him. Lucien isn't around often (at least not initially or for a while) so time together is savoured. Lucien tends to wake up early (he doesn't sleep much in general) and does long morning workouts to burn off the edge of violence constantly swimming in his blood. the most likely way to wake up in the mornings if he's around is to feel his mouth and hand on your or hear the shower start. he's not opposed to you joining him.

OBVIOUS (how do they show they're together?)

while Lucien is not the most PDA-friendly person, he would eventually get used to someone's presence at his side and, as such, not move away from any physical touch outright. nor does he mind - and even prefers - to touch you occasionally in public. these displays are usually only limited to when you're home at the pit of vipers, however, as there's still safety and prying eyes to consider.

PEACE (how do they relax together?)

usually in his room, regardless of the actual activity. Lucien enjoys fresh air though (old lingering unease about being trapped between walls) so expect to spend a fair amount of time upon the Pit of Viper's roof terrace and surrounded by clara's plants, flowers and herbs. there's bustling sounds of the city around you but it's like a small corner of paradise that's almost kissing the skyline.

QUIET (what can they do together without talking?)

Lucien enjoys training a fair amount to help himself focus and burn energy off, so he would be happy for you to join in or simply watch. in the same vein, he doesn't enjoy silences (despite not being very talkative himself) so he does listen to a fair amount of music; anything to fill the quiet. he would be happy to try some of your hobbies eventually too, as long as they're not too irritating.

ROMANTIC (what kind of gifts do they give?)

once more not typical boyfriend material where you can be expected to be pampered and showered with gifts. presents from lucien are few and far in between (and pretty much non-existent during initial paces of relationship) he doesn't believe loyalty can be expressed in presence, and loyalty is higher for him on the scale than love. that being said, eventually, you can def expect one or two things down the line. they're more like to be meaningful and have meaning. likely a show that though he's not the most chatty-cat out there, he always listens and nothing escapes his notice, especially when it's you.

SLEEP (how do they sleep together?)

with you likely tucked under his chin or his arm an iron band around your waist holding you to him. this does take a while to fully bloom into effect though since initially he can be a bit callous in this regard.

THOUGHTFUL (what small things do they do for each other?)

the big one Lucien appreciates more than most is the ability to recognise when he needs space because his mindset is in a dark place. for you, it's the smaller things like finding covers pulled up over your naked body although the other side of the bed is long since cool. or how despite you both knowing he needs to leave, the ever-building sense that he lingers for as long as he can each time, as if some part of him isn't happy to be leaving as it once was.

UNITY (what would their wedding be like?)

not the marrying type. just straight up. again believes loyalty is expressed in a different sense and his devotion is concrete, so he sees little reason to attach any labels or papers on what you have.

VIBRANT (what always makes them smile?)

very little does. with what he's been through his smiles are elusive and incredibly hard to come back (unless they're more insincere/sarcastic things because then they're more common) but way down the line there might be few instances when you feel his mouth stretching against one side of your head if you rush to greet him after one of his returns. they're private and tucked away from anyone's eyes, however.

WHISPER (what pet names and compliments do they use?)

"pretty girl" : )

XOXO (how do they kiss?)

except bruising and hard, very intense. lip bites. few chances to draw breath because he's on you at once. he very much enjoys it if its intensity returned. scratch those nails down his neck, rip at his hair - he welcomes all of it.

YEARN (what do they do when they're apart?)

you likely have plenty to do around the Pit even if not officially one of the Vipers, and he's away making sure no enemies can blindside the Pit which more often than not means murder. minds mutually wonder towards each other often though.

ZOOM (what's their favourite picture together?)

most likely a picture either Step or Noah managed to grab of you together in a little Pit gathering/dinner. Lucien is likely facing away from the camera, unimpressed by whatever is happening, and you're caught mid-laugh. casual at first glance until you look closer and note how you're leaning into him and his head is lowered towards you, his arm half curled around you.

#oc x reader #oc character hdcs #oc writing #ahh he #c: lucien #v: npfh #asks #eileen

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hermeticimp · 3 years

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Why Social Media Should Actually Be Represented By the 12th House

Hello beautiful people! So, an enlightening conversation with my lovely mentor Ada led me to realize that social media, so often attributed to the 11th house, can be argued to actually be under the lure of the 12th. Shocking, I know, but let me give my reasoning first.

Ada wrote a brilliant article on redefining the 11th house, so please check that out to get a better understanding of what that house represents. I will explain a little about the 12th however. The 12th house represents hidden influences, secrets, escapism, fantasy, dissolution of the ego, and the collective unconscious. It is the yawning ocean that seeks to devour us all… Okay, so maybe not quite that last one, but close enough.

Either way, it is a place where our conscious mind becomes subsumed by our unconscious one. Not it the same sudden flashes of insight and resonance with the 11th house, but like a giant wave crashing over you and pushing you under, opening up a whole new world you never knew existed. Or at least, one you rarely acknowledge does. With that explanation out of the way, let’s turn our attention to social media.

Social media - the innovative method of communication that has entirely changed the way we communicate and express ourselves with one another. It’s where we go to be honest, right? To share our opinions with the world and find people who totally understand where we’re coming from? It’s technology and becoming social with known loved ones and strangers alike! How on earth could it fall under the mysterious, dissociated influence of the 12th?

Well, friends, let’s gaze into the abyss together.

I’ve been a part of the spiritual community for bordering on 4 years now. Tumblr, Twitter, and Discord have been my biggest spaces for finding people I have an affinity with, though Facebook is quickly becoming another niche for me. I’ve watched people come and go with the tides. It’s been bothering me quite a bit lately.

Two common reasons I see are losing the self and burnout. For all the personalization that social media provides us, it’s actually rather depersonalizing. Psychology has told us that social media can be helpful, but it often causes disconnection. From families sitting at tables using their phones instead of talking to each other to people checking their social media as soon as they wake up rather than taking the time to sit with themselves to prepare for the day, social media turns us away from the real world to become absorbed in the virtual one.

That virtual world leads to the creation of a “persona” or character - an avatar to represent us in the subspace. It then interacts with other avatars in this e-world. It makes me think of this scene from one of my favorite anime, Psycho-Pass. It’s this futuristic, cyberpunk world where everyone’s mental health is easily scanned and coded with a hue referred to as the titular “psycho-pass”. The clearer your hue, the better you are. The darker it is, the more likely you are to be taken into custody or even killed for the safety of society. I highly recommend it because it has a lot of amazing themes like justice, civil disobedience, the dangers of technology, and so on.

Anyways, there’s an episode where the lead character, Akane, participates in this online VR space where she and other people are projected into the e-world, dressed up as their respective personas, and interact with each other. There’s a sense of camaraderie...up until a murder occurs. As Akane investigates, she finds that people she thought were friends in this space quickly turn against one another.

While the example is a little extreme, my point is that social media is just like the online VR space - a place where we interact with a small part of a person and not their true selves. That’s not to say that online friends aren’t true or important - I’ve found plenty of great people online - but there is an element of role-playing here that suits the 12th house over the 11th.

The 12th house is ruled by Neptune, the planet of illusions, the arts, and spirituality. It’s a hazy planet that casts a mist over what it touches. Fantasy falls under the domain of this planet as does wish fulfillment. And what is social media if not a way of creating a fantasy where we can escape the outside world? Remember that escapism falls under this house. We go on social media to connect with others, sure, but we also use it as an escape from the reality of our offline lives.

However, Jupiter classically (and modernly co-rules) the 12th house as well. Jupiter is the planet of optimism, faith, expansion, and luck. Each of those is great in moderation, but Jupiter doesn’t know the meaning of that. Thus, overindulgence, grandiosity, greed, and blind faith can all become issues.

Finally returning to how that impacts people leaving social media, the planetary influences of the 12th better reflect what social media is like. People can lose themselves in their persona, being consumed by this side of themselves that becomes larger-than-life.

In the spiritual community, this can happen through people coming to think of you as a divination machine, constantly channeling the Universe to the point where it’s hard to see where the “diviner” ends and the self starts. That’s 12th house energy. Spirituality can consume us on this side of the internet until it’s our entire world.

(Of course, this applies to any community you join in. I’m just using the one I’m most active in.)

Ada, in her article, mentions “ego death” being something social media causes and I find that to be true. I’ve seen people lose themselves so much that they have to walk away to retain any sense of self and/or sanity. It becomes too much (Jupiter) and they have to retreat into themselves (4th house of privacy and getting back to one’s roots) to regain a sense of who they are. They lose themselves in the persona and not always for the better.

With burnout, the above applies, but a recent revelation provided by the lovely Brook Waldorf in her BTS Yoongi reading helped me understand that the issue here is fear and worship. People fight to maintain the perfection and expected output of their persona to the point that they are deathly afraid of disappointing others and losing their spot as the current desired person.

They fight against themselves, pushing themselves to the limit to avoid a fall from grace and to keep from letting down the people who look up to them. While it may work for a while, the lack of self-care can drive them to retreat (4th house) and leave that persona behind to live the life they truly desire. That last statement is where they move into themes of the 11th - the House of Resonance.

While that went darker than intended, I think that presents a good case for social being considered under the 12th’s domain rather than the 11th’s. Feel free to leave your takes below!

#astrology #social media #12th house #11th house #4th house #neptune #jupiter

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jackuswritus · 3 years

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Hidden Places

Everybody had a hidden place when they were younger, right?

Those overgrown clearings that laid off the beaten path of other parks, past all those manmade mulch pits and nauseatingly bright plastic playgrounds that always overheated in the summer sun. They were hard to find, and always required a bit of finesse to travel through, but the sense of ownership and independence that they came with was always worth it. It was like unearthing something sacred, something that nobody had ever laid witness to.

Ours was a little less picturesque, of course. The various blunt wrappers and capri sun pouches that were strewn about quickly dashed our fantasies of being grand explorers mapping out uncharted territory. On top of that, the actual scenery wasn’t particularly beautiful on its own. The only thing resembling a source of life was the thin trickle of brown, diseased-looking water that cut through one of the ditches we jumped across. You got the sense that it was an area left unexplored for good reason. None of us were particularly picky about that, though. As teenagers, we were just glad to have some semblance of independence.

As well as a discreet place to get high.

Looking back now, the fact that we managed to keep it so well-hidden was pretty impressive, especially considering that our activities down there were anything but. We mostly just sat around, picking at various bits of dead and decaying nature, laughing at whatever dumb shit had happened earlier that day. It was typical teenage boy behavior, just moved to a more rural location. The only thing that really changed was that we didn’t have to worry about keeping our voices down quite as much. After all, we all felt pretty secure in assuming that we were the only ones out there. Still, there was one reoccurring trend that I couldn’t help but notice:

No matter what, everyone always seemed to leave before the sun went down.

It wasn’t one of those cliché unspoken rules, mind you. Most of the kids that frequented the spot usually just had other stuff to do, whether it was studying for a test the next day, worrying about upsetting their parents, or just plain wanting to go home. Everyone always seemed to find a reason to leave before the golden hour was up. I’m sure that a handful of us were genuinely afraid of staying there after nightfall, but nobody would ever admit to something as shameful as that. Not to a group of vicious adolescents, anyway.

There was only one kid who pointed it out. That was Mark.

He was a weird one. The sort of guy that exists on the fringes of your friend group, not really tethered to any particular person, coming and going as he pleases. The only other place we saw him outside of the meeting place was school, and that was it. He definitely made his presence known, though. His fixation on the dark and morbid gave him something of a reputation with his classmates, teachers, and (especially) guidance counsellors. He would always draw a crowd in the school computer lab, playing videos with titles like “REAL GHOST FOOTAGE CAUGHT ON TAPE” and “CRYPTID SIGHTING NEVER BEFORE SEEN” with a barely restrained sense of glee. He seemed to revel in the discomfort of others, the same way that teenagers often enjoy getting an immature rise out of people. It followed, then, that he would be the first to suggest exploring the meeting place at night.

Everyone he tried to rope into his expedition responded with either indifference or outright disapproval. It seemed that everyone had some kind of excuse to avoid going back after night had fallen. Some were able to mask their fear with a façade of aloofness and casually dismiss the whole thing as a waste of time, while others couldn’t help but let it slip. He didn’t seem to mind, though. If anything, he felt a sense of distinction, a sense of pride, at being the only one brave enough to do what the others couldn’t. It was all he could talk about, spouting off disjointed conspiracies to anyone that would listen, or anyone unfortunate enough to walk too close. I still remember him pulling me aside the day before he was supposed to venture out. By that time, the whole school was aware of the reputation that he had. It followed him around, dispersing whole crowds of people and reducing boisterous conversations to barely audible whispers. His eyes were sunken and hollow, but you could still see something behind them. It was like he was being possessed, compelled by something greater and more awful than even he could comprehend.

“Somethings out there, man.” He whispered, as if guarding a terrible secret, “And I think I’m supposed to find it.”

That was the last thing he ever said to me.

I think that, deep down, everyone knew what had happened when he didn’t show up to school the next day. It was just a matter of who wanted to believe it. Some struggled to keep up a sort of misplaced optimism, while others simply refused to accept that something terrible had actually happened. Nobody wanted to shoulder the burden of witnessing a tragedy unfold, knowing that they might have been able to do something to stop it. A quiet sort of tension gripped everyone, and the pressure only mounted with every passing day. Rumors were spread, fights broke out, kids had to be dragged, weeping and hysterical, out of class.

It wasn’t until the last search party was called off that things started to die down.

The police chalked it up to an avoidable tragedy, using it as leverage to keep impressionable teens from causing trouble at night (as well as impose a strict curfew). Nobody wanted to argue, regardless of whether they agreed with the decision. Of course, it wasn’t like there was an eager queue of explorers ready to follow in Mark’s footsteps. For most people, the collective trauma surrounding his disappearance was enough of a reason to never look back, to move quickly and stay under the shelter of the sun when traveling. I wish I could say the same. I wish I could say that everything that happened was enough for me, that I could put Mark’s memory to rest and come to terms with the fact that he was gone. But I had my own separate burden to carry, my own terrible, secret reason that I could never hope to forget.

It was that he was right. There was something in those woods.

A week after Mark went missing, I found myself back at the meeting place. Even with the vice grip of fear beginning to tighten around the town, I still couldn’t pry myself away from the memories that resonated there. Even back then, I knew that nothing would be the same, that the sense of community that this place once provided was about to be torn away. In a way, I guess I was there to say my last goodbyes to all those memories; To lay them to rest before they became too painful to hold on to. The tears flowed freely. Loudly.

The sunset seemed to sneak up on me, despite being so gradual. As those rusty colors began to drench the world around me, I was confronted with the bittersweet reality that they had lost their meaning. What once struck fear into our hearts and left us scrambling for the safety of home had only a sliver of its former power. As depressing as it was, it was a fitting close to that chapter of my youth. I was almost ready to leave those ghosts behind, to dump them with the rest of the waste and refuse that had been scattered through our makeshift meeting place.

It only took several minutes for night to fall. While I had the advantage of being familiar with the various ins and outs of the clearing, that thick, murky blackness was all it took to leave me fumbling my way through. I could still make things out, vaguely, but the unfamiliar shroud of the night rendered them completely alien to me. The first pangs of anxiety were beginning to set in, as well as a distinct sense of annoyance. All these years of coming back here, and they still somehow weren’t useful here? Against my better judgement, I found myself nervously laughing at the idea that the real reason why nobody stayed out past dark was because of how damn hard it was to navigate. I stayed there for a while, chuckling as I tried to quiet my nerves.

Something shifted in the bushes beside me.

I wish I could say that I hadn’t seen it, that it had been a product of my own cowardice and paranoia. After all, in the unfamiliar murkiness of the night, anything could have been out there. It could have just as well been a stray animal or broken branch that sent me running. Still, no matter how much I wish that were the case, I wasn’t afforded the luxury of unknowing, of blaming my imagination for what had happened.

I don’t think my mind was capable of imagining what I saw.

It walked like an animal, made to stand on its hind legs for someone else’s cruel amusement. Every step seemed to cause it pain, forcing its body to contort and twist in different directions, directions that living things weren’t supposed to bend. It was emaciated, gaunt, pale, as if there was just enough life in its body to keep it staggering forward. Bones jutted out, barely covered by its own horrible, pale skin. I didn’t dare look at its face, but the faintest trace of a gaping jaw could be seen dangling and flapping with every movement. I was paralyzed, every part of me freezing up in anticipation of the fate that awaited me.

It wasn’t until a noise escaped its mouth that I started to run. It was a wail of agony, a cry brought on by the inherent pain of its own existence. No matter how far I ran, it still seemed to echo through the trees. Every muscle in my body burned as I flailed my way through dead foliage. I didn’t dare to look behind me, both for the fear of being slowed down and for the fear of seeing it again.

Thankfully, I didn’t see it again. Not when I stumbled through a clearing and found myself back on the trail, or when I was questioned by the police for being out so late, or when I finally got back home and collapsed into my own bed. No matter how certain I was that it would come back, it never did. Some days, I think that the dread and paranoia that it left me with are worse than anything it could have actually done to me.

Enough time has passed now for me to know that those memories will never truly leave. The things I’ve seen, the things I’ve heard, they’ll be with me until the end. There’s a sort of peace to that, I suppose. A kind of quiet acceptance in familiarizing yourself with the burdens that you have to carry. Things don’t get easier, but they certainly don’t get any more difficult. Maybe me writing all of this down is part of that acceptance, that familiarity. For all intents and purposes, it seems to be working.

I can almost get to sleep at night now.

Still, there will always be times where the dam breaks. The memories, fear, and trauma surge back in full force, uncontrollable in their potency. Some nights I wake up as terrified and drenched in sweat as I was back then. Some nights I find myself feverishly checking outside, certain that it will lurch back into view at any moment. Some nights that awful sound rings in my ears, drowning out any futile attempt to ignore its presence.

Some nights I swear it sounds just like Mark.

But I know that can’t be.

-end.

#horror #fiction

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aalt-ctrl-del · 4 years

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the creepiest thing Im finding in the current republican campaign adverts right now, is the disconnect from reality. Not sure what’s going on, what it’s supposed to mean - aside from being disconnected from our current crisis. It’s like the republicans campaigning for the upcoming elections are stuck in a alternate timeline, where covid never hit, and the government is chugging along.

I haven’t seen any Democratic opposing adverts, or whatever. That’s odd, but the republicans are super noisy here.

The ad comes on the radio, or the yt video, and it’s always “Our values of religion and family are under attack, and that needs to be stopped” or “Our super delicate amendment rights are under attack, and I’ll stop that.”

And it’s sort of an echo chamber. They don’t go through anything about covid, the pandemic, or measures we need to continue until we get the pandemic under control. fuck, not even what to do with people suffering with long-term effects and health issues. The republicans won’t shut up about stuff that is not a priority right now, unless you think gun rights and reproductive rights take precedent above an uncontrolled plague and supply shortages.

Remember the supply shortages? We have supply shortages. And people in Arizona, a spike in covid cases, might be headed into another gasoline strife. That is concerning right here, because people have died due to the heat while trying to reach essential supplies - utilities included. And that rolls into non-essential businesses shutting temporarily, others going bankrupt, and states not providing aid to those affected financially by a plague.

So these should be issues that republicans breeze through, bring awareness to, and assure voters we will work on to manage. Not this imaginary threat to promised freedoms, it’s redundant at this point. People are dying, are sick, we are financially impacted - but republicans are insisting that this isn’t a problem , and are warning people the freedoms to religion and other... things... are in grave danger.

Really

WHAT

THE

FUCK

GOING

ON ?????

Honestly, I don’t really care what these people say at this point, I don’t care what republicans are talking about or whatever. It’s not important. I’m really calculating through what the Democrats are doing at this point, plans that they are implementing regarding the situation. On congress-woman advertises safety measures, where to pick up free mask supplies if you don’t have them. People are on unemployment, schools are suspended at this time and the School Board broadcast a live virtual meeting discussing the measures they couldn’t put into place - because that was stupid to try and put all these kids in a classroom together. The government in control of my state is doing a high rate job of keeping people informed and up to date, it’s actually hard to escape the messages playing.

But that’s the stuff Im paying attention to right now. Businesses can’t open, if our infection rate is rising. When we maintain our rigorous precautions, and keep on testing indiscriminately, we are able to ascertain the alleviation of some restrictions. The Democrats won’t shut up about restrictions, updated procedures, or how to keep the community safe.

So you see why the republican faction is a problem right now? That group isn’t taking the incentive, those people working toward those divisions of power are not involved with the process of maintaining safety among members of the community. It feels as if they’re speaking to a division of people that deosn’t exist, or a group of people who still believe the covid pandemic is a hoax.

This paradox is bizarre to me. I don’t care if republicans have to align their group behind trump, and all his delusions. It’s destructive to the whole of the Republican party. It sort of promotes the bare theme behind the two parties:

republicans: “This virus doesn’t exist. Go to work. Your business went bankrupt and now you can’t afford rent? Well, fuck off, you should’ve had $10,000 in emergency funds. If you die, sucks to be you. At least you perished with freedom in your eyes.”

Democrats: “There is a deadly virus we don’t understand, so we’ll minimize business operations to only essentials and some non-essentials, but only if we work hard at preventing the spread. Please wash your hands, wear a fucking mask. These are difficult times, but together we’ll get through this strong and rebuild what was lost. Here’s some money. Stay safe, think of others.”

Don’t even get me started on conspiracy theorist.

#our values are threatened #but I won't erase freedoms #republican #Democratic #2020 #election #congress #state #senate #campaign adverts #republicans continue to be in denial #so tired of the #it's terrible how theaters won't show new movies how dare they kill the movie industry

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welcometophu · 5 years

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Into the Split: Avalanche 2

Twinned Book 3: Into the Split

Avalanche 2

[ Previous | First | Next ]

On Saturday morning, a sweet scent lingers in the air, infusing the house and leaving Nikolai with lingering memories of childhood weekends that started with stacks of pancakes or waffles. He makes his way downstairs, stopping by an open window to inhale the scent that drifts on the breeze. It’s crisp outside, starting to warm as the sun rises above the trees.

This scent has been in the air all week, he remembers, but not nearly as thick as it is now.

Seth is in the kitchen, hair pulled back from his face with a bandana, a deep frown furrowing his brow as he works at the stove. A pile of lumpy, misshapen pancakes rests on a plate, and the table is set. Seth glances up, grinning when he sees Nikolai.

“You were still sleeping, and I was craving pancakes because of the sugaring, so Mac came over and showed me how to do it when I asked,” he says, waving the spatula at Nikolai. He points at the table. “Sit down. I’ve got that milk we picked up, and I’ll have eggs in a minute. I didn’t burn anything, but some of the earlier pancakes are a complete mess.”

Breakfast.

A real breakfast of pancakes and eggs, with a small pitcher of maple syrup next to a round tin of softening fresh butter. Nikolai’s stomach rumbles, and he reaches for the pancakes as soon as Seth sets them on the table. Seth sits after finishing up a pan of scrambled eggs, and they both tuck in.

Nikolai isn’t sure how long it’ll take before every meal feels like a last chance. Every single one seems better than the last, and he thinks that someday it’ll be routine, but not yet. The pancakes might be lumpy, and the eggs dry, but they are real and fresh and they aren’t from a tin. He’ll take it.

“Mac said that she and Pawel are helping with the sugaring festival. So are Alaric and Carolyn. We should go see.” Seth pauses long enough to gesture with his fork toward the window.

It takes Nikolai a moment to place what Seth is talking about, then he remembers dinner last night at Josef and Mikhail’s house. Amaranth was excited about a celebration on Saturday, and Sakura and she had been making plans for some kind of… Nikolai doesn’t remember, exactly, now, but he knows they had something to do.

“It seems like fun,” he says. It also seems like a luxury, to celebrate food and the spring bounty. He wonders if they were asked to help, and he somehow forgot, or if they’ve been let off the hook this time since they’re so new.

He supposes it doesn’t matter, but he’s also starting to feel like he needs to do more here in Havenhill. Something to pay them back for the safety they provide.

Seth touches his arm. “You okay?”

Nikolai nods, catches Seth’s hand in his own. “Yeah.” It’s a little bit of a lie, and Seth probably knows that, but at the same time, it’s close enough to the truth. The discomfort will fade once they better integrate into the community.

They finish every last scrap of breakfast, eating until Nikolai feels like his stomach is probably distended. Cleaning up doesn’t take long, then they can start the long walk to the central house.

The sweet scent grows stronger as they approach. They spot the fires burning first: a long fire pit, with grates above, and more pots than Nikolai can easily count. Someone stands at every pot, stirring periodically, and as Nikolai and Seth pass, they see two people change places, relief coming in to give one person a break from the stirring.

Amaranth spots them and she and Sakura both wave. Amaranth leans in to speak to Sakura before running to join them. “We’ve got more people than fires,” she says cheerfully. “This is the final push to get all the sap boiled down to maple syrup. With so many maple trees in the area, it’d be a waste not to pull the community together to get as much sweet from that sap as we can. There will be another push in the future for the group that handles crystalizing the syrup into sugar, but that doesn’t have to happen today.”

Havenhill is having a party at the same time. They’re drawing closer to the house now, although it’s still in the distance, and tables and little stands have sprung up along the way. It’s like a market or a festival, things Nikolai remembers from childhood. He hears shouts in the distance, and the sound of voices cheering. He sees a booth with children lined up, holding cups of ice or snow, while someone ladles something onto the top of the cup. Another booth with children waiting patiently to get their faces painted.

Alaric sits surrounded by children, a pile of rough fluff in a basket by his side. He has two wide combs—one in each hand—and some fluff on the tines of the comb. He scrapes them against each other, and the children try to mimic his motions with smaller combs.

“It’s not just the sugar,” Amaranth says quietly as they walk over to Alaric. “We’re celebrating everything about spring. The melting snow. The sheering of the sheep. Baby animals—some of them have been brought over so the kids can see them and pet them. Anyone who has anything they can share is here to help.”

Alaric sets aside his combs, touches one teenager on the head, and that teen takes his place on the chair. “Did you have anything yet?” There’s a bright, excited light in Alaric’s eyes, a flare to his nostrils that makes Nikolai think that this is more familiar to Alaric than it is to himself.

“We just had breakfast,” Seth says. His fingers tangle with Nikolai’s. “We’re helping use up last year’s syrup, I think.”

“There’ll be time today to try the treats. They’re doing spun syrup over on the other side,” Amaranth says. “You should take a look around at what everyone’s brought out to the festival.”

They start walking again, and Nikolai tries to look in every direction at once, but it’s too much to take in.

He spots Carolyn under a small awning, sitting at a table with bright cards spread out in front of her. She’s speaking earnestly to a woman who sits across from her, while Nikita and Heather sit curled together on the grass nearby. Nikita waves, but she doesn’t get up, and Nikolai takes that as permission to just move on.

They stop at a fire tended by Ethan and Marybelle, with long iron pokers sticking out in pairs. Nikolai watches as they take out one pair of pokers and they turn out to be long handles to a pair of flat presses, which when opened up drop something that smells like grilled bread out onto a plate. Marybelle cuts it into four pieces and hands a piece each to anyone waiting, while Ethan butters bread and slathers it with jelly before putting the sandwich between the plates and back in the fire.

Nikolai’s stomach grumbles, and even though he just ate, he takes an entire grilled peach jelly sandwich to share with Seth. It burns the roof of his mouth, but Seth’s lips taste sweet when they kiss after eating it.

Ethan winks at Alaric, who growls in response.

“Stop it,” Marybelle says, elbowing Ethan sharply in the side.

Ethan pulls another sandwich out and cuts it for Alaric and Amaranth. He leans on the table, into Alaric’s space as he points, “There’s a booth over there with sausage and bacon, and your friends are just past that, right in front of the porch doing something that involves a lot of teleporting, kicking, yelling, and one of them trying to throw the other. They’ve got a good crowd watching.”

“If you want a break to walk over with them, I can take over here,” Amaranth offers. She doesn’t take no for an answer, pushing Marybelle and Ethan towards Alaric with both hands. “Go. Be kids. Have fun.”

“We promised Aunt Val—” Marybelle cuts off mid-protest when Ethan tugs at her hand.

“Don’t argue, let’s just escape while Amaranth’s offering.” He grins, then bows. “Please, let us be your guide.”

“I want to go see what Mac and Pawel are doing.” Alaric pauses after only a step, turning to glare at them before roughly gesturing. “Come on. It’ll be good.”

“Some kind of theatrical martial arts,” Seth murmurs. “I was talking to Mac a little this morning. Or maybe it’s practical martial arts, I don’t know. They’re putting on a show, so how real can it be?”

They have a big crowd gathered, with maybe thirty kids sitting in front of a small stage, and several adults lingering around the edges. Pawel spots Alaric and gestures for him to come over, and Nikolai takes a seat to get comfortable.

Pawel is smaller than Alaric, and Mac is smaller yet. But they both easily place him into holds he can’t get out of, and Mac flips him over her hip as she ducks a punch. Seth’s body rumbles with laughter, and Nikolai gets the impression that Alaric’s glares and loud growls are only for show.

Alaric gets a break when Pawel grabs a small stack of boards. Alaric looks at the boards in confusion, but they have a hasty quiet conversation before Alaric nods and moves away a bit, then holds one of the boards over his head. Mac positions herself on the opposite side their makeshift stage, and Pawel is in the middle, crouched down with his hands made into a small basket of interlocked fingers. Mac shouts, then runs, stepping into Pawel’s hands, tumbling in the air as he tosses her up. She blinks out of existence, then reappears just in time to kick through the board above Alaric’s head, one foot pushed out as the board snaps.

It’s impressive.

The kids scream, begging for her to do it again. Between Mac and Pawel, they work their way through a small stack of boards, the broken ones placed in a wheelbarrow and carted toward the fires once they’re done.

Pawel raises a hand, bows. “Thank you. Mac and I will be teaching self-defense and martial arts after school on Mondays and Thursdays. Immediately after school for younger children, and an hour later for teens and adults. Everyone is welcome.”

The crowd disperses slowly, kids gathering around Alaric to see the last few pieces of boards, touching them as if to see that they were real.

Nikolai doesn’t bother moving. He’s comfortable on the ground where he is, and he can see Nikita and Heather approaching. He has a feeling that if he stays right there, everyone will come to him.

He tilts his head, and Seth puts an arm around his shoulder, kisses his temple. “It feels good to forget about everything,” Seth murmurs.

It’s bright enough that Nikolai can’t even imagine any Shadow other than Mattie being here. It’s bright, and smells like spring, the air warm and sweet. He makes a small noise of agreement, and leans, letting Seth take his weight.

Once the stage is cleared, two women bring out chairs and a pair of violins. The music that starts is quick and light, without being overpowering. Small children decide to use the audience space to dance, and Nikolai and Seth inch out of the way without getting up.

“It’s always like this,” Marybelle says softly. “This is one of my favorite festivals. Harvest is good, too. We feast then. But sugaring is both a chance to gather all the syrup and to celebrate the end of winter. It’s been dark for so long, and now we’re finally getting some light.”

“And new life in this place,” Ethan says, nudging his cousin. “It seems like most people who come to Havenhill are older, or families with small children. New people our age isn’t typical.”

“There were the Simmons,” Marybelle points out.

“They didn’t stay,” Ethan mutters, and Marybelle makes a soft sound.

Nikolai can’t think why anyone wouldn’t stay.

“We’re here for good,” Seth says. “I know the others want to go to their home, but this is it for us.”

“We will go home.” Mac lowers herself to crouch next to Ethan, who startles at her sudden appearance. “Hey. So. We’ve got a break and we figured we’d all hang out. How’d the pancakes go this morning, Seth?”

“Lumpy, but appreciated,” Nikolai responds.

“I make them all the time for my sisters on the weekends,” Mac says. “They’re the best pancake recipe, right, Heather?”

Heather and Nikita join them, along with Pawel and Alaric. Nikolai and Seth shift to help open the circle to give them space.

“Pancakes that I do not have to make myself, or go into the cafeteria to get, are always the best,” Heather agrees. Her cheeks are flushed, her lips plump and bitten. Nikita’s ponytail hangs ragged, and she leans into Heather, wraps her arms around Heather’s waist and nuzzles close.

“I haven’t had these pancakes,” she confides, “but half the time when I’m staying with Heather I’m also fucking up the weather or making some kind of chaos. Maybe once things calm down and we get home Mac will make pancakes when I’m there. If she thinks I deserve the pancakes, that is.”

“Speaking of,” Pawel says, the words dropping flatly between them. He sits up, gestures for Heather and Nikita to actually take a seat. It’s interesting how the others obey him, like they’re used to him being in charge. Pawel doesn’t look like he’s all that much older, but he definitely acts like he expects people to listen.

Once everyone is seated, Pawel leans forward, gestures at Nikolai and Seth. “I want to talk to you about these scanners you mentioned. How widespread and commonplace is that technology, and how long have they been in use?”

“You ask like we’re really going to know the answer to that,” Seth grumbles. “We’re not human. We’re being hunted; we aren’t the hunters.”

“I’ve never seen one in person.” Ethan’s voice is dry with disbelief. “I’m not even sure they exist at all, but according to rumor, they started being used a few years after the Split. People were able to travel at first, but the government started to want to track us once they realized that the Shadows prefer to kill Talents.”

“That means they’ve identified something they can track, some technological method of scanning a person and recognizing them as Talented,” Pawel muses. “There must be physiological evidence of Talent. I’d say DNA, but that won’t work from a distance. Still. It seems that this world has developed a much higher understanding of the physiology of Talent than ours has.”

“Give us time,” Heather says. “Carolyn’s working on that.”

“I wonder what Sera would say about that.” Alaric touches the side of his head. “She’s got tech in her head, right? I wonder if it changes how she sees Talent. Or maybe it’s someone like Rory’s mom. She knows who has Talent, right?”

“Technopaths,” Pawel says slowly. His gaze sharpens, shifts to where Marybelle and Ethan sit. “You have those among the Talents here, I assume.”

“No idea what you’re talking about,” Ethan tells him.

“Sera’s got a cellphone in her head,” Alaric repeats, tapping the side of his head. “She’s online all the time, can get to the internet just by seeing it in her mind. She’s got this printer, too, that she took in and it prints new tattoos on her body. Changes them when she gets bored.” He sits back, looks over at Mac. “If Sera were here, bet she’d be able to tap into whatever network’s out there. If there are any Talents like her here, they might still have some kind of global network we could get access to.”

“If you can find one of them to ask,” Ethan says. He spreads his hands. “Our technology is probably different than yours, and you’re talking about things I can barely remember.”

“It’d be worth finding out,” Alaric argues. “There might be other places like Havenhill out there. You might be able to reach out to them, without the Shadows or your human hunters finding out.”

“It’s not a bad idea.” Pawel taps a finger against his chin, thoughtful.

“What about the military?” Mac rolls to her feet, stepping backwards. Nikolai isn’t sure if she’s bouncing on her toes or teleporting in place; she seems to waver when he looks at her. “What you’re talking about—creating scanners to find Talents. That sounds like something you use a Talent to do. Which means they probably have people in the military who are just like us. They’ve done it on our world, and we aren’t nearly as dystopian as this place is. And in our world, the military started pulling in Talents before the Emergence ever happened. I’d bet it started before the Split here. Someone knew about Talent, and they were already working on a way to create the Split before it happened.”

Nikolai opens his mouth, closes it. “I’ve never even thought about that. I have no idea.”

Mac looks at the others. “Seth? Ethan? Marybelle?”

“I know history, but I don’t know anything current, and it’s not like we can just drive out to Albany and ask,” Ethan says.

“Alia might know.” Mac turns on her heel, then turns back, one hand raised like she’s going to say something. Instead she shakes her head and quickly walks off.

Alaric rises. “I’ll stick with her,” he says, forestalling Pawel before he can get up as well.

“I’m still not sure about healing the Split,” Pawel murmurs, “but I begin to think that you brought us here for this very reason, Nikita. We bring a new perspective to this world, and your friendship with Nikolai will bring a new perspective to ours. We can learn from each other, and that may be far more important than saving each other.”

Pawel may call this learning, but Nikolai’s just confused. He’s never heard of a Technopath before, and wouldn’t know how to go about finding one. But if there’s a way to bring Talents together around the world, that part sounds like a good thing.

The idea that they might have been hunted even before the Shadows came? That part can only be bad.

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#welcome to phu #welcometophu #into the split #phu twinned #twinned #its avalanche

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willowlark369 · 6 years

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Let’s Talk about Programming

In particular, let’s talk about how a computer program is created. I’m going to keep it really, really, really basic. Why? Because I think a lot of people have missed something very, very, very important in Age of Ultron and I think this is a major part of that. So after the Keep Reading break, that’s what I’m going to explain, but first I have to list a bunch of stuff to try & stave off the trolls.

Warning: Information provided (and conclusions drawn from it) may not be considered friendly towards certain characters. This may be potentially upsetting to readers who are fans of those characters. If you feel like you/a character is being attacked, please remember that your emotional reaction is your own and I have no control over your internal landscape. I will also take this time to remind all readers that you are free to conclude whatever you wish from the provided information and that this freedom extends to ignoring it.

Sources: This information is derived from multiple textbooks, programming courses, language systems, and other similar real world sources that cost money to provide. I will not be providing itemized citations. This information also references events in the MCU, particularly AoU. You may review the canon if you have missed anything, but again, I will not be giving you a play by play upon demand.

Okay. Let’s dive in.

Point 01: What is a program?

In simplest terms, a program is a collection of protocols, heuristic algorithms, and hierarchies. Protocols are the rules for what the program does and how it operates. Hierarchies are simply the order in which things occur, and for both the protocols and the heuristic algorithms. Heuristic algorithms are how it organizes information and if/how it acquires new information.

Point 02: How does a program come into being?

Someone creates a set of protocols, heuristic algorithms, and hierarchies. Said person will likely either save the program (say, on a flashdrive), integrate into a device of some sort (say, a drone array), or install it on a computer. A (potentially) malicious person may send it out into the world to infect other people’s technological devices, like the worst case of hate mail one could ever imagine.

Point 03: What is the difference between artificial, natural, and constructive intelligence?

Natural Intelligence is naturally occurring. If it is living, it can be said to have natural intelligence, growing more complex as it heads towards sentience. Everyone argues where the line on sentience is, but most agree that humans have it.

Artificial Intelligence is a complex program that has limited learning capability and very linear reasoning due to the nature of hierarchical heuristics. They are capable of a vast array of things but eventually, an AI will reach the point where its heuristic algorithms are too complex to maintain processing speed and functionality. For this reason, heuristic algorithms are considered the greatest barrier between artificial and constructed intelligence.

Constructed Intelligence is similar to natural intelligence in every regard except one. It is, as its name implies, constructed rather than naturally occurring. It is just as capable of everything that something with natural intelligence is capable of, including several different definitions of sentience. In short, something with CI is a created lifeform, regardless of the materials and corporeal level of their form. (Just imagine the accusations of playing God that this event would garner from the average jo/e blow on the street.)

Point 04: What was Tony Stark & Bruce Banner doing?

In the MCU, Drs. Tony Stark and Bruce Banner had a program that they had stalled out on named Ultron. Upon studying the Sceptre (containing the Mind Stone, unbeknownst to either man), they discovered a very complex program with nearly organic heuristic algorithms. They believed (and with solid reasoning) that this program may hold the key to getting their stalled-out program up & running. There was just a few little hiccups with this idea.

They had a very limited timeframe to study the Sceptre’s program, as Thor had only given them permission to study the Sceptre (in its entirety) until his already scheduled departure. They hadn’t discovered the program until later.

They were literally looking at toeing if not jumping the AI/CI line. In case you missed the analogy, they were looking at an unknown lifeform (or near enough) and checking it over for better understanding in order to perfect/grow their own program.

They were still surrounded by teammates with only rudimentary understanding of how science worked, people completely reliant upon others to break a subject down to bullet points that focused not on why something worked but how it would work for them. They are not scientists, who will both understand a project and be able to give usable feedback. The lab is not their domain, which is fine. (Not everyone is capable of multi-fielding; in fact, most people can’t master multiple fields. It’s a known thing in the real world and why most people with multiple degrees tend to have them in related fields.)

Said teammates have the repeatedly demonstrated stance that they are permitted to put personal desires and feelings before the collective needs of the global community. These people are shown to be willing to obey orders without worrying about the potentially fatal (for others) consequences of them. They often act without thinking through the full ramifications of their decisions, even when making decisions which affect the lives and livelihoods of those claimed as allies.

With those points in mind, do you think the decision of what time-sensitive projects the scientific department works on should be left to anyone outside of the scientific department?

Point 05: What about Ultron?!

This is the question we’ve been building towards, dear readers. What about Ultron?

First off, let’s define exactly who we’re talking about? Because there’s two Ultrons in the movie and so things can get a little confusing, even for our heroes. The first is the creation of Tony Stark and Bruce Banner that they were struggling to get to functionality, Tony’s now infamous “suit of armor around the world” and the ideal bouncer for extraterrestrial threats. The second is the Sceptre’s program, the murder-bot whose ideas for world peace were as finite as they were final. You may recognize that one for their work with a certain pair of Hydra volunteers.

“But Magi, why do you think there’s two? Those are both the same program!”

Oh, but are they? Think about this, dear readers: when the Sceptre program comes online, JARVIS tells it a name and directs its attention towards “its” protocols, a course of action which the newly awakened entity does not do, choosing to access security footage and the internet instead. Instead of using the programming created by Drs. Tony Stark and Bruce Banner, it is already acting on its own, including formulating plans of escape and attack.

If it is does not access the Ultron programming (and thus does not follow that programming), can it be said to be the creation of the individuals who created the Ultron programming? I’ll even go you one better: if it existed within the Sceptre prior to it coming into the possession of an individual, can it still be said to be created by said individual?

“But, but Tony Stark unleashed it, at the very least, right?”

You’re reaching now. His lab was shut down when the program from the Sceptre decided to become active. This is shown as all active projects being suspended and the tech put into either sleep mode or turned off (the equipment darkened upon the order). The only thing active in the space was the omnipresent JARVIS, who was murdered for that presence. The Sceptre program activated on its own, choosing its own time to do so and then killing the “guard” in order to escape.

How exactly is following all lab safety protocols and them unexpectedly not being enough unleashing the entity that adopted the name Ultron?

Final Point: Summation

Tony Stark did not create Ultron. He did not activate Ultron. Regardless of finger-pointing and prioritizing people’s lives over arguing fault, Tony Stark is not responsible for Ultron.

Thank you for coming to my TED talk.

Edit Notes: (10/17/2018: fixed a few typos that had made it through the editing process)

#MCU #Avengers: Age of Ultron #Meta #Magi's Thoughts #Tony Stark Friendly #Not Team Cap Friendly #Because of Canon & Logic #Magi is Done with This #tinaalsgirl

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21stcenturymen · 6 years

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Benevolent Sexism

RATING: Teen

Frequently in conversations with men, there seem to be only two possible expressions of how to treat women (specifically women as the associations get more grotesquely nuanced when we descend into how some men view trans persons, people of color, and really anyone in the LGBTQIA community) that tend to bubble to the surface.

She’s precious and should be protected and revered!

She wants equality? Fuck it, that’s fine. She gets to sign up for the draft, get pummeled by linebackers in gym class, and lift steel I-beams with her bare hands.

Either of those sound familiar? Hell, I think both have escaped my lips at different times in my life. And I’d like to take an aside for a moment to say this: You’re not perfect. No one expects you to be perfect. You don’t have to change on a dime or magically know all the right things to say and do. As the two thoughts above indicate, there are always multiple ways to look at things and it’s okay if we shift around a bit before finding reality. Which, as with most things, lies somewhere in the middle.

Are women precious and need to be protected and revered? No and yes. No, as in, no more so than you. And yes, if you agree that all people should be protected and revered. And if you mean physically precious or fragile, then I’ll ask you this. Have you ever stubbed your toe? Literally zero people in the history of humankind have stubbed their toe and said, “Yeah, I’ll just walk that off. It’s fine.” From Goliath to R. Lee Ermey, every man to ever stub his toe has hopped around the room screaming and cussing bloody murder as if someone just clipped the thing off with a pair of garden shears. We’re human. We’re all fragile, ya dig? We’re not above feeling pain or injury because we’re “male.”

Women don’t need protection. They’re not incompetent or unable to fend for themselves. Is the particular woman you’re going to be interacting with smaller than you? Okay, do you think her value rests in how much she can lift, or how high she can reach? As if ladders don’t exist or you can lift that couch all by yourself? What genuine day-to-day value is there in being stronger than your partner? Unless you plan on being a threat to her, your variance in size shouldn’t matter. So… what do women need protection from then?

The idea that women are inherently “less than” and need protection is called benevolent sexism. Like, you’re not really sexist! You’re a Nice Guy™ and you just want to do what’s best for women. I want you to read this Facebook post that made the rounds a while back. Not because it’s particularly insightful, but because it’s like a ‘greatest hits’ of the presumptions men have about “taking care of” women.

I’m going to analyze this, piece by piece. “Women ask for a provider…” No. No they don’t. A particular person may ask for a provider, but anyone who just wants a provider without having to put in their own effort is a freeloader, not a partner. And women never insisted on men being providers. In the 1940s and 1950s major corporations and the government hired marketing firms to cultivate that belief because they wanted women either in “women’s work” or out of the workforce entirely. It’s MEN - TWO GENERATIONS AGO - who created that belief. Are there women now who still believe it? Sure, but if that’s not what you want, go find another woman. Don’t blame all women because you found a freeloader. Plenty of men are freeloaders, too.

“Can you handle it? Can you wait on him? Do you see and know what time it is and why he is not home where [he] wishes [he] was?” These are manipulative questions utilizing a logical fallacy called “begging the question” where someone argues a position assuming one of its premises is automatically true. In this case, the assumption is that anyone wanted this guy to be a provider in the first place. Which, believe it or not, most people don’t. So, whether a woman wants to “handle it” or “wait on him” is completely irrelevant.

“I have always worked my back off with my career. It has cost me friendships, family time, and relationships.” Then you need to break up with your career because it’s an abusive asshole. Any employer who asks you to do this doesn’t value you and you should therefore go elsewhere. Period. Employers get away with abusive behavior because we put up with it. Remember the blame for this situation is on your employer for expecting it and you for going along with it. Not on your partner for being justifiably upset by it.

“…I work like a dog so that I can be a successful man…” Cute, but succeeding at everything except your family isn’t success. Unless you never wanted your family in the first place.

“…but because I love them and would do anything for them and never fail them.” A. You have failed them because B. You obviously wouldn’t do anything for them since “anything” includes being fucking present.

And the picture is the perfect summation of the entire thing. A man putting literally zero effort into an interaction while a woman dotes on him anyway. This entire mindset of benevolent sexism is a lie we men tell ourselves to excuse the fact that we’re poor at relationships and communication. We support it by calling emotional labor “women’s work” and anything remotely resembling feelings “soft.” Grog punch… timecard. And really, if emotional labor is so easy and so soft that women do it, then it shouldn’t be so hard for men to try it, too, right?

Okay, so we shouldn’t assume that women want us to be a provider and to do all the hard work for them. This can be misunderstood as thinking women should have to suffer all the same physical hardships on the job as men do. Except, no, they shouldn’t. Not because women are more special, but because no one should be suffering physical hardships as part of a job. And if you’re worried about smaller, weaker humans suffering physical labor injuries on the job, maybe you don’t need that pair of Nikes sewn by a 10-year-old in Bangladesh. Because you can’t claim to care for “fragile” women if you don’t care for fragile children. It’s a crutch to continue to treat women as though they are “less than.”

I’ve registered for selective service, because I had to. I’m pleased the draft was never reinstated while I was young enough to qualify but I understand the feeling some men have of, “If women really want equality, then they should have to register for the selective service, too!” I mean, if men have the potential to be pressed into life-threatening military service, then women should have to as well, right? But why does that have to be the answer? Why do we have to look at equality as a set of matched miseries? Why can’t we just say, “Actually, no one should have to register to be killed for someone else’s war. Let’s get rid of it for men, too.”

Removing threats men have to our safety is just as good a mechanism of equality as anything else.

PURPOSE: Stop assuming that women want to be protected or that they deserve to be as miserable as you. This isn’t a competition. We shouldn’t be in a race to see who has it worse. Or in a race to point up our differences. In the same breath as saying “all women are precious,” or “all women are experts at emotional labor,” we could just as easily be saying “all Asians are good at math,” or “all American natives have natural healing skills.” Even positive stereotypes are damaging, reductive, and mostly false. By reducing all women to having the same skills, abilities, and desires, you’ve outed yourself as someone incapable of acknowledging the individuality of others, and then you can’t wonder why they wouldn’t want to date you.

Which brings me to the second part of the purpose: ask people what they want. Don’t assume that every woman wants a “provider.” You’d be surprised how many women prefer to be independent and handle their own shit. More importantly, you need to pay attention to the fact they were likely handling their own shit long before you came into their life. Women don’t cease being capable adults just because a penis enters the room. Trust me, that thing’s magical powers of ineptitude do not extend to others. And if you meet a woman who likes to be independent, this is not a reflection on you. Be grateful you get to just be yourself and not have to fit into a mold she never asked you to pour yourself into in the first place. You’ll have much better conversations and far healthier relationships the less you assume about others.

Next up: Single Doesn’t Mean Unhappy

#benevolent sexism #21stcenturymen #male privilege #listening

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theseadagiodays · 4 years

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May 11, 2020

Sanctuaries

My favorite refuge: The view from the summit of my backyard park

I’ve been thinking a lot about sanctuaries lately. Defined as “a place of refuge or safety; a nature reserve; or a holy place,” the meaning of the word is entirely interpretable by each individual.

Recently, the term has proliferated in reference to US cities who claim they will protect migrants from a certain unnameable leader’s xenophobic policies. Unthinkably, this same buffoon has even threathened to withhold coronavirus relief funding to such cities if they continue to harbor “unwanted” residents.

It seems, for every sanctuary, there exist forces who want to threaten them. This is as true of religious persecution around the world, as it is with safe houses for women escaping violence.

In our Lullaby Project, Instruments of Change works quite intimately with this population. Through this time, we’ve been fortunate to continue supporting single mothers to write original songs about their hopes and dreams for their children. What we’ve learned from them is that, ironically, while many of us have struggled to self-isolate at home, these women have never felt safer, with the prospect of being found, or of unwelcomed visits from their abusers temporarily lifted.

In Women Rock, another program that we’ve shifted to digital engagement through Google Classroom, our participants have written a secular choral hymn identifying nature as the sanctuary that has provided them the most solace during this time. A verse from their song, Hidden Symphonies is below.

Listen to the silence

Morning bird calls at play

Soul refreshing music

Through isolation days

It is interesting that more and more evidence suggests people rarely catch the virus while outdoors (https://globalnews.ca/news/6906508/coronavirus-outdoors-parks-closed/). Intuitively, this resonates with me, as someone who has always found sanctuary staying active outdoors. So, while experts stress that social distancing in public parks is still necessary, simply sharing these wild places six feet away from strangers has been a blessing.

Art has always been another refuge for many. And it’s no wonder some artists have been turning to nature as their canvas. The Swiss artist, Saype’s work is perhaps the most ambitious example. His stunning ephemeral piece, Beyond Crisis, made with biodegradable spray paint, is designed to fade naturally as the grass grows, in much the same way we all hope this virus will eventually disappear once nature takes its course (with ample cooperation from humans).

https://twistedsifter.com/2020/05/giant-biodegradable-artwork-of-hope-appears-atop-swiss-hillside/

And finally, another creative community, in Sag Harbour, NY, has found an inventive way to share their work while galleries are closed. Barns, front yards, and back gardens have become museum walls for dozens of installations that locals are welcome to view, as safely distant drive-bys. https://www.nytimes.com/2020/05/11/arts/design/drive-by-art-long-island.html?action=click&module=Well&pgtype=Homepage&section=Art%20%20Design

Paintings by Darius Yektai; Diane Blell’s “Table for Two Separate tables”; Erik Fischl’s “Young Dancers Dancing”

May 12, 2020

Daily Delights

I have also been trying to hone my lens for finding a different kind of art in nature. With time to slow down and stay close to home, I have paid much closer attention to the little wonders that surround me. I began the practice of doing this shortly before self-isolation, when I learned about Ross Gay’s poetic essays collected in his book Daily Delights. https://www.amazon.ca/Book-Delights-Essays-Ross-Gay/dp/1616207922

As if prophetically, NPR featured him on my favorite podcast This American Life, in late January. https://www.thisamericanlife.org/692/the-show-of-delights

And this reminder, to savor life’s small pleasures was exactly the armor I needed for this period. Since February, I’ve kept my own daily delights journal. And here are just a few snapshots that have made the cut since quarantine began.

Baby ducks, Hula hoops, Elderly couple park bench massage, Backyard swing

May 13, 2020

Radio Days

While so much has changed about my daily rhythms, of late, there are a few pillars that I’ve kept in place to give my life some necessary scaffolding, in order to maintain a sense of familiarity and grounding.

One of these is the ritual that my partner and I have had for years, of listening to This American Life every weekend. Ira Glass’s strangely pleasing-though-nasally drone has accompanied hundreds of our road trips to mountains, lakes and forests, as we’ve sought weekend adventure. But for now, living room listenting has had to suffice.

On May 4th, the show just happened to be honored with the first ever Pulitzer Prize for audio journalism. So, that’s a well-earned feather in a podcast’s cap. But, awards or not, their carefully curated slices of life never fail to amuse and inspire.

Interestingly, I think more and more people are turning to podcasts, perhaps as an antidote to screen fatigue, and also because it seems to align with the nostalgia for days past that is so alive right now. So, I wanted to suggest a few podcasts that might particularly resonate at the moment.

If it’s a longing for “other” that’s calling you, there is an incredible website called Radio Garden that lets you travel anywhere in the world, to sonically “drop-in” to whatever environment intrigues you (http://radio.garden/listen/alpha-boys-school-radio/ijKUlByg). For a real time sense of what moves people across the globe, you can experience the music, stories, and language of cultures from Antanarivo to Zagreb, with just a spin of their online globe and a simple click. Here, you can access literally thousands of radio stations. However, in my experience, their interface works best on a Chrome rather than Safari browser.

Early in quarantine, when I was in sorest need of a good laugh, This American Life put together an episode on fiascos that really helped bring levity at a time when we all began to feel our world fall apart. https://www.thisamericanlife.org/699/fiasco

And speaking of when things fall apart, Buddhist nun Pema Chodron’s book of the same name has served as a sort of bible for many westerners, as they’ve turned to the ancient Tibetan tradition in which she was ordained. Another podcast favorite of mine is Krista Tippet’s On Being. And her most recent May 7thepisode featured herself and musician/meditator Devandra Banhart alternatively reading passages from this sage book, while reflecting on its relevance for the times.

https://onbeing.org/programs/devendra-banhart-when-things-fall-apart/

May 14. 2020

Finding Bliss

Ai Weiwei’s 2010 “Grapes”, with a coincidental resemblance to the coronavirus

Interviewed about how he’s responding to the virus, Ai Weiwei replied, “I never create anything. I just try to cope with the situation at hand.” We all need coping tools and strategies for those times when things fall apart. Ai Weiwei’s plainspoken answer sounds almost religious, the way he describes art as his salve. And this makes sense to me. But for many years, faith in an actual religion never did. Raised as a half-Catholic, half-Jewish Unitarian, I only attended services until I was about 11, when Sunday youth orchestra rehearsals took their place. So, I never fully understood the role of weekly church service until we travelled to India, for 10-days of Dalai Lama teachings. This annual offering, which he made for 30 years, was an even greater gift than we expected, given that these Kalichakra teachings ceased just after our 2007 trip, unbeknowst to us. Every day, for 5 hours, 1,000s of seekers flocked to the grounds of his Dharamsala temple, and listened by radio simulcast, in 1 of 17 native tongues, to his special blend of humor and clarity. Each day, we all left bubbling to the rim with reaffirmed intention to be our best selves. The coffeeshops, all over town, were a twitter with armchair philosophy between strangers trying to understand and integrate his words. Uncanny kindnesses abounded. And you could feel our resolve get ever more reinforced with each return to his daily talks. However, it’s only once we left Dharmasala, with equally grand intentions to “remember”, that I recognized the role of these daily infusions. Because with each passing day, best behaviors, careful speech, and pure thoughts deterioritated, if only a little at a time.

Note the curly-haired, golden-sweatered sore thumb in this sea of burgundy-robed monks...

So, while that did not instill in me a renewed church-going tradition, I have found my own ways to be “reminded.” They’ve just come in different forms.

For Geoff, it’s long runs and bike rides that serve as his spiritual medicine. And for me, it’s a panoply of things. Sometimes its communion with nature. Other times yoga. Writing. Handstand therapy. Or even what my favorite yoga teacher likes to call “Hammock Enlightenment.”

Eoin Finn is an artist of the highest order. Good living is his canvas. The body is his brush. And bliss is his paint. He calls his teaching Blissology, and spreads his backbends, heart-openers, and ocean loving vibes from Indonesia to Byron Bay.

He and his family have been quarantining in Bali, since they were leading teacher trainings there, just before global travel nearly shut down. And fortunately, he continues to extend his generous spirit through free weekly livestream Stay Om yoga classes, on Facebook. If you happen to miss his 5 pm Sunday classes, the videos remain online to follow any time. So, I hope some of you take the opportunity to worship the DUDE (Delight in Universal Divine Energy) with him some time. I promise there will be plenty more acronymns and puns where that one came from. Plus, a good dose of deep stretches for your limbs and soul.

https://www.facebook.com/blissarmy/?__tn__=%2Cd%2CP-R&eid=ARD502BDBWegIvZPmn6ec9pFCtdEPtRnELt_iabxb0_c5Mmnzq3UPiAddV8fEanrbJLeSOhgYWdeQOlu

May 15. 2020

Birthday Bash

Those who know me are aware of the special challenges birthdays pose for my creativity. I relish the quest for the perfect homemade card, surprise gift, Bitmoji or GIF for a friend or family member. And I love throwing a good bash. I am also aware of the undue pressure this has caused my partner, over the years, to come up with a reciprocal gesture or party idea. But given the added constraints of a quarantine, Geoff went over and above the call of duty this year to produce!

While the novelty of Zoom parties had already worn off, he still managed to find a brilliant way for my loved ones to send serial video messages throughout the day, with the bonus of a clever twist. I’m not quite sure how he found the time, in his manic 70-hour work weeks, to put this together. But, 43 clues later, I was delivered a personalized crossword puzzle, with each hint related to the messenger. He really outdid himself this time, and I could not feel more grateful.

Meanwhile, unsure if he had anything up his sleeve, I got up to my own fun messying my hands to make this Covid Pinata. I confess, I borrowed the idea from an article I saw online, but just couldn’t resist.

And last night, of course with proper social distancing, we took great delight in beating the crap out of this brutal virus with a couple of friends.

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