#and nobody judges me even slightly for it. because the consensus is just 'you were a teenager. you learned. you don't believe that anymore'

[malyen0retsev]

i feel like gen z need to be sat down and explicitly told it is ABSOLUTELY OK to say the wrong thing and do the wrong thing sometimes. growing up actually means fucking up, and if you spend your whole life paranoid of being ‘problematic’ then you are legitimately going to drive yourself into an anxiety induced meltdown. watching or reading ‘problematic’ media does not make you a bad person, and tbfh sometimes watching or reading said media (provided you keep your analytical brain switched on) is a good thing to do. because just as we learn by seeing what’s right to do, we also learn by seeing what’s not right to do. 

and without wishing to sound horrendously horrendously ‘i am in my mid twenties’, you don’t need to let the entire world know what you’re watching and reading. you actually don’t need to let the entire world know a damn thing about you, and i feel like a lot of the anxiety i see from gen-z online is this terror of being called problematic precisely because the boundaries for oversharing are next to non-existent. growing and changing and learning are a fundamental part of being a teenager, and you will say and do ‘problematic’ shit which will make you cringe in your twenties, and that’s absolutely ok because you will have learned from it. 

#and on a serious note too for the love of god stop digging up peoples tweets from a decade ago. that adds to this toxic cycle #i was an absolute moron in my teens idk how many times i have to say it #i grew up in a conservative area and went to christian camps do i need to Spell Out the sort of nonsense i believed as a teen #and would u look at me now. age 26 and queer and very open about the nonsense i used to say #and nobody judges me even slightly for it. because the consensus is just 'you were a teenager. you learned. you don't believe that anymore' #HOW SHOCKING THAT THE WORLD KEEPS TURNING #anyway that's admittedly my somewhat extreme experience lmao #but seeing younger teens rip themselves apart online for OH MY GOD I CAN'T BELIEVE I WATCHED THIS PROBLEMATIC TV SHOW #like my dudes when we were teens we used to look up clips from Saw on youtube FOR FUN #it's ok to make mistakes it's ok to be an idiot #what you've gotta be aware of is to stop documenting every single thing you have ever done online #because i swear it adds to the anxiety of 'what if someone calls me out on this' #just live and let live and don't actively be a prat and you'll be all good #ANYWAY #saw several posts about this this morning hence The Rant #sarah rambles #gen z #i guess??? #important

[coraniaid]

Most of the notes I made for myself while watching Passion were complaints or criticisms, but I do think it’s worth saying up front that I honestly love this episode.  For all its flaws I completely agree with the popular critical consensus on this one: I think it’s a genuinely great episode of television.  One of the best parts of the high school seasons and quite possibly the highest peak the show has managed to hit so far.

In a lot of ways it picks up where Innocence left off.  Both episodes lean heavily into the metaphorical reading of the newly soulless Angel as an older boyfriend who turned out to be a creep after Buffy slept with him (“Don’t tell me,” says Joyce early on.  “He's not the same guy you fell for.”).  Both episodes work very hard to show us that Angel is not redeemable – first with the Judge last season declaring him “clean” of humanity, now with Angel killing Jenny.  But Passion hits a little harder, I think, because there’s no counterpart to that rocket launcher scene.  The good guys don’t get to enjoy even a partial victory here.

Other thoughts:

I think this is a surprisingly good episode for Joyce, in a way we don’t typically really get until Season 3.  It hits the right balance between showing that Buffy and her mother struggle to communicate but that this doesn’t mean they don’t bother deeply care about each other.  Buffy’s concern for her mother is paramount throughout the first half of the episode (and Giles’ insistence that she can’t tell her mother about being a Slayer is more than slightly hypocritical, given that we’ve already been told that his parents always knew about him being a Watcher).  

Of course Joyce herself isn’t perfect – she doesn’t know the whole story, and yes Angel only tells her that he slept with Buffy because he knows Buffy well enough to anticipate Joyce’s reaction – but however bad The Talk goes it doesn’t feel like this really had as much of an impact as Angel would have been hoping for.  It doesn’t seem to have really damaged their relationship.  I believe Joyce when she says she loves Buffy “more than anything in the world” even if (she thinks) Buffy’s trying to shut her out.  And I think this particular conversation, and the way Buffy can only say “you’re not” when her mother suggests she’s “grossing her out” is the sort of thing Season 5 is calling back to when, three years from now, Buffy will tell Giles that “my mom is gone … and I loved her more than anything … and I don’t know if she knew.”

(I think the shot of Joyce hugging Willow when they get the call from Giles is a nice touch too.  That whole scene from Angel’s perspective is so good, isn’t it?  The whole framing device with his voiceover too.  It should probably be kind of cheesy, but it’s not.  Maybe it helps that I just think Angel is a really fun villain.)

Speaking of that scene: everything between Willow and Jenny is so sad knowing what’s coming up later.  I remember being slightly surprised, back in Season 1, that Willow didn’t seem to immediately warm to Jenny despite their mutual interest in computers (“how come she’s in the club?” she protested in Prophecy Girl).  But I think the show has done just enough by the halfway point of this episode to make it seem credible that of all the Scoobies Willow in particular would be hardest hit by her death.  (The juxtaposition of Willow being excited and eager to take over Jenny’s teaching responsibilities at the start of the episode and then how somber she looks when she is taking over for her at the end is particularly good.)

It rankles slightly, in the way I’ve complained about before, that the script still reduces Jenny to “Giles’ girlfriend” at times and that one of the reactions to her death – by somebody who knew Jenny! – is “poor Giles”.  Nobody even thinks to suggest that Angel might have killed Jenny for some reason other than hurting her boyfriend.  Equally Giles seems unnecessarily dismissive of Buffy’s concern about the fact that Angel has been sneaking into her room at night at the start of the episode.  But the scene with Jenny’s boyfriend attacking Angel in the factory (after the rather complacent advice of “you mustn’t let Angel get to you.  No matter how provocative his behavior may become”) and then Buffy coming to save him, giving up the chance to kill Angel herself to pull him out of the fire, is so good I’m almost persuaded to overlook it.

And the mere fact of Jenny Calendar’s death itself – despite the weird retcon about her past and the fact the show insists she betrayed the Scooby Gang while showing us she didn’t, despite the fact they bury her under a name she never used in the show, despite the fact that after this season ends Jenny’s name will only be spoken on screen twice, despite the fact it establishes the precedent that will later be used for any number of increasingly questionable ‘shocking’ deaths in the Buffyverse – despite everything, it’s still utterly heartbreaking.

Jenny isn’t the first recurring character the show’s killed off, but she’s the first recurring character of any significance (with apologies to Jesse and Principal Flutie).  Or, I suppose, technically she’s just the first recurring character of any significance who dies and doesn’t get better.  The first recurring character who won’t be coming back.  The first recurring character that Buffy and her friends show any sign of missing.  And the first recurring character that the audience will care about losing.

I just think this episode could have been even better if the writers themselves cared about Jenny Calendar at all.

#btvs #buffy rewatch 2023

[magicalthoughtsendinterriblefics]

Summer Loving - Request

Requested by @amberautumn: I wondered if you could write a Ron Weasley smut where the reader visits him at the Burrow during the summer, and they stay up late after most everyone in the house has gone to bed

Word Count: 2.509

Pairing: Ron x Reader

Warnings: Smut (unprotected, consensual, semi-public), Virgin!Ron x Experienced!Reader

A/N: I made Ron a Virgin, fight me. 

The Burrow during the summer was a whole show of beauty and magic - literally.

Molly Weasley wouldn’t spend a single day without yelling to one of her children in utter desperation, either because Fred and George charmed the family clock to mark them in prison, or Ron getting in trouble along Harry, and Ginny being living-sass every time every day… Or any other shenanigans either of them managed to do right under her nose.

“I need some holiday…” She said one morning, “I deserve some holiday, Arthur.”

Arthur Weasley, who was absolutely in love with his wife, didn’t even hesitate. He knew that, if he refused, she’d explode in a million pieces and return as a ghost solely to haunt him for the rest of his days, and after she’d spend their eternity in a state of anger that would haunt his death as well.

“We’re only leaving for the weekend,” Arthur explained to his kids and Harry, “just to let her breathe.”

“When we return, I better find this house in perfect state,” Molly threatened. “I love you all, don’t take this personal, but you’re just… so many kids.”

“We know, don’t worry,” the twins replied with honest smiles. “We’ll behave better than ever.”

“I’m scared already…” Molly whispered but shook the thought out of her head. If her kids made a mistake, she’d find a way to fix it back after her return. “I love you, you know where to find us.”

Arthur said goodbye to them as well and they both disappeared in the middle of the front yard, with bags and all.

“Where are they going?” Harry asked.

“Charlie managed to get a room for them in Romania, it’s a quirky place but she’ll like it because the whole staff is mute,” Ron explained as he walked to the kitchen, shoving three cookies in his mouth right after finishing his sentence.

“Someone’s nervous,” the twins observed with a mocking smile on each of their faces.

“What did mum say about (Y/N) coming over?” Ginny inquired.

“Oh, she’s happy, she planned on receiving her with pumpkin pie and a scarf,” Ron mumbled, with his mouth full.

“How is she doing that if (Y/N) arrives…” Ginny stopped suddenly, and her mouth fell into an elongated O. “She doesn’t know (Y/N) arrives today, does she?” Ron didn’t answer, “YOU SNEAKY BASTARD!”

“What? Harry’s here during the whole summer and we don’t mind!” Ron exclaimed.

“It’s not about that and you know it!” Ginny grinned.

“Unless of course you also like to smooch Harry before going to bed,” Fred mocked him and started doing kissing noises.

“Not that we’d judge you, Ronnie,” George added, “Harry is quite a catch, but honestly…”

“That would actually explain why Ron offered me to stay at Charlie’s room this time,” Harry realised.

“Get lost!” Ron fumed and left to his room.

(Y/N)’s arrival was as awkward for Ron as one would imagine. The twins had offered to make dinner - which resulted in them only serving sweets - and the whole time they searched for Ron’s face to glance and offer him naughty giggles. (Y/N) remained unaware the whole evening.

At night, they decided to play a Quidditch match before going to bed. Fred, George and Ginny were going against Harry, Ron and (Y/N).

The game started. Ginny and (Y/N) were rather brilliant players who were both playing as Chasers, while Harry and Fred were the Seekers, and Ron along George were the Keepers. The rings were replaced with a pair of magical hoops that Charlie had left for them during his last visit, the hoops glowed and floated. 

There were no Beaters for two reasons: 1. There weren’t enough players. 2. Nobody had the energy to deal with the Bludger.

In the end, Fred, George and Ginny won. Harry had caught the Snitch (which had been hard considering it was the middle of the night and there was a New Moon) but Ginny had scored 150 points just by herself - the last ten points were scored at the same time Harry caught the Snitch.

After their irrefutable Victory, the twins and Ginny punished the Losers by making them pick up the balls, brooms and hoops, while they went to bed. 

Since Harry had caught the Snitch, he was able to put it in its box right away. The Quaffle, however, was lost somewhere in the great backyard.

“You go look for the Quaffle,” Harry commanded Ron, “we would’ve won if you hadn’t been distracted by your girlfriend.”

“I wasn’t distracted by her,” Ron refuted, “I got distracted by the looks you were all giving me.”

Harry chuckled. “Look, mate, I’ll go put these their place, and I’ll try to cover you for as long as I can.”

“Thanks, mate.”

“Got the rings!” (Y/N) exclaimed, as she approached the pair of friends with the hoops in hand. “What’s with the smug faces?”

“We’re… Planning a joke on Fred and George to get back at them for being annoying dickheads.” Ron lied.

“I’ll have these, thank you.” Harry took the hoops from (Y/N)’s hands and juggled them among the brooms.

“Let me help you,” she said.

“NO!” Harry and Ron replied in unison.

“It’s part of the joke,” Harry said. “I need to… um… keep these myself so they won’t suspect anything while you two go get the Quaffle… and then we can proceed with the joke.”

“Right…”

“Yeah, only one person can go in the house or else they will wake up… Harry is an expert in sneaking in so…” Ron started to explain and Harry noticed how his friend ran out of words.

“Alright, bye!” Harry hurried and ran back to the house, cursing every time something fell off his hands.

(Y/N) and Ron lit their wands and went on looking for the missing Quaffle. Truth was, Ron had spotted it near the house, but he didn’t tell as an attempt to get (Y/N) as far from his siblings as possible.

“It’s a shame Hermione couldn’t come,” (Y/N) murmured, “We always have a great time together.”

“Yeah, but I guess Austria is more interesting than this place,” Ron replied. “She is coming though, she’ll arrive the last week of summer and we’ll all go together back to school.”

“That’s lovely.” They continued to walk until they reached upon a moon dark moor. “You’re not pulling a joke on your brothers, are you?”

“No,” Ron confessed.

“And you do know the Quaffle is under the lemon tree your mother has in the yard?” (Y/N) asked with a grin.

“Yes…” Ron answered, “Wait a second, you know too!”

“I’m not dumb, Ron,” she stated. “I know we talked about… that.”

“Yeah, that,” Ron cleared his throat.

“I do want that, Ron. It’s just…”

“What?”

“You haven’t even kissed me yet.”

“Oh, yeah, that…” Ron blushed. “I haven’t because my brothers would mock me and you and that is something I do not want.” He explained in a robotic manner.

“Your brothers aren’t here,” She whispered.

Ron looked down shyly, although he had a nice smile on his face. The girl took a step forward and kissed him gently.

It wasn’t the first time they kissed. No, they had kissed quite often in the hallways after class, under the biggest tree from Hogsmead, at the upper floor in the Three Brooms, on the train back home… That was only their first kiss from that day, but it felt like they hadn’t kissed in ages.

“Are we really going to do that here?” Ron asked in a whisper.

“Nobody said anything about doing that,” she replied and Ron’s face fell into a dumbfounded expression that made (Y/N) burst in laughter.

“I’m just joking,” she said, “I’m up for it if you are.”

“I am.”

Now that was their first time. They were both scared to death but also incredibly excited about what would happen.

They laid on the grass just the way they had done many times before in the outskirts of the Forbidden Forest. It was wet with summer dew but warm nonetheless due to the weather. They could hear crickets, frogs, toads, and even owls somewhere not far from there.

Ron was shaking. His kisses became shy around the corners of her mouth. She was patient, and soft, with him. It wasn’t her first time with a boy, just her first time with Ron, and though it was always scary to make love to someone new, she decided to play her part as the experienced one.

She didn’t force him to touch her, or to kiss her, or anything. No, she allowed him to go as he felt comfortable and, though Ron didn’t openly say it, he was grateful for that.

His kisses became deeper and slower as he balanced his weight between his knees and his elbows until he found a comfortable position, carrying his weight with one arm and his two knees. Then, with his free hand, he started touching her breasts over her shirt. He barely knew how they worked or what made them feel good, but they felt amazing under his touch and so he spent a good time squeezing them until he felt her hips move under his.

Ron pressed his hips to hers and lifted her shirt just enough to reveal her uncovered breasts. Gravity made them look and feel slightly different than when she was standing up, yet Ron thought of them as two pieces of the finest art.

“May I?” He asked timidly.

“Be my guest,” She replied with a smirk.

Ron leaned closer to her chest. He licked one of her nipples as he pinched the other with the free hand. She let out a breathy hum, which made Ron understand she was liking that, so he continued until he couldn’t contain himself anymore.

He unzipped his trousers while she unzipped hers. He pulled his own down to his thighs, and she simply took them off completely. 

Ron grabbed her hips with his free hand and carried her to align her core to his. But it was dark and, when he tried to thrust in, he found himself pressing against her groin. 

“Not there,” she giggled.

Ron blushed and tried again, failing once more. “I can’t find… it” he huffed.

(Y/N) decided to help him. She used one of her hands to guide him to her entrance. That was all he needed.

He thrusted her slowly, taking his time to allow her to adjust to him. It was a painless process, she was as wet as she could be and he was hard as a rock.

They made love at a slow pace. 

“Wait, there are branches poking at my arse.”

They moved clumsily trying to get rid of any branch or rock or anything that could poke her at any given moment. 

“Why don’t we try standing up?” Ron asked, feeling daring.

(Y/N) gave her a knowing look but agreed just to let him experiment. They stood up, and she managed to use a tree as a support to carry some of her weight. He stood up behind her, holding her hip with one hand and guiding his length with the other.

He thrusted in slowly, finally holding her with both hands. Her back was arched, and her hair was falling over one side of her face, leaving the other side free for Ron to kiss. He wrapped one hand around her waist and another one around her chest, to help her carry her weight as he sped up. (Y/N) was no longer holding back her moans.

She arched her back a bit more so her head could rest on Ron’s shoulder. “Touch me,” she whispered, and held the hand closest to her core and guided it towards her clit, teaching Ron how to touch her.

Ron obeyed, pressing her clit in a circular motion as he continued to thrust as deeply as he could. He was moaning as well, panting over her neck, sweating and feeling every inch of his half naked body covered in sweat. 

“More,” she managed to say. Ron obliged and she scratched the tree while she came all over his throbbing cock.

“You’re dripping,” Ron whispered, amused. 

“That’s how you got me…” She replied before turning her head back to kiss him. 

“D’you want more?”  Ron inquired, innocently.

“Yes,” she answered. 

In a newly achieved confidence, Ron pulled out and turned her around. He took off all of her clothes as well as his own, almost ripping them apart, and pinned her back to the tree. Both of her hands above her head, being held by one of Ron’s hands, and his other lifting one of her legs just enough to give him access to her entrance.

He pushed in and exhaled a groaned. “You feel tighter this way,” he commented and slowed down his pace, rolling his hips slightly every time he thrusted it. She couldn’t say a word, Ron’s pelvis hit her clit every time he thrusted in, and the idea of being pinned to a tree by no other than Ron Weasley in the middle of the night somewhere inside the woods next to his house was thrilling.

Ron kept thrusting in, making sure to not over extend her legs so she wouldn’t get hurt. He had maintained a careful pace - not too fast nor too slow - and also kept the eye contact in such a way that (Y/N) felt like she could die of pleasure.

Ron pushed deeper, hitting her cervix with his tip. (Y/N) shuddered, which worked for Ron as a sign that she had liked it and, therefore, continued to hit it until she reached her high once more, trembling in his arms as she dripped. 

Ron didn’t stop moving, not even when she was having her orgasm. No, he continued moving, searching for his own high but also enjoying every second inside her wet cunt. 

Out of a sudden, his whole body was controlled by a wave of heat. His legs trembled and his head went blank for a second. He managed to pull out right on time, spurting his cum away from (Y/N), into the ground. He was breathing heavily, and (Y/N) was just looking at him, aroused by the picture of him cumming.

“Did you cum?” Ron asked, once his feet were back on the ground.

“Yeah,” She said.

“I can finish you off in any other way…” He suggested before they started hearing voices nearby.

“RON! (Y/N)! WHERE ARE YOU?” Ginny, Fred, George, and even Harry, were looking for them.

“You can finish me off any other time, we’ve got to get dressed now, though.” She winked at him and started to get dressed as fast as she can, Ron did the same. 

Finally, they drifted back home; holding hands, with a big smile on their face and no excuse to cover what they had just done.

-------

Masterlist Schedule To-Do List Buy me a coffee?

Forever Tags:  @dekahg @myfriendmagislit​ @thecrazyhatwoman @pureawesomeness001​ @bingewatchingmylifegoby​ @cutie1365​ @one-left-foot Smutters: @maybecutemuses  Harry Potter Universe Tags: @shadyladyperfection​

#harry potter fanfiction #Harry Potter #harry potter fandom #Harry Potter universe #Ron Weasley #ron x reader #ron fanfiction #ron fanfic #ron weasly fanfiction #ron weasley fanfic #ron imagine #imagine ron #ron weasley imagine #imagine ron weasley #smut #ron smut #ron weasley smut #ron one-shot #ron oneshot #ron one shot #oneshot #one shot #one-shot #imagine #imagines #fanfic #fanfiction #ron wealey oneshot #ron weasley one shot #ron weasley one-shot

[realityhelixcreates]

Beta, Theta, and Me

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Thor (Movies), Avengers (Movies) Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: PG Warnings: Swearing, Homelessness, Minor Nudity Relationships: Loki x Reader (But not right now) Characters: Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, Pepper Potts, Thor(Marvel), Loki(Marvel) Additional Tags:  A/B/O, Sorta, More Of An Exploration Of Life And Self Expression Within An A/B/O Framework, Loki Does What He Wants, But Loki Does Not Actually Do What He Wants, This First Chapter Is Mostly Setup, Bear With Me

Summary:  A homeless drifter enters a building, and wanders into a new life.

It was starting to get warm again. The danger of freezing to death on the streets was passing, but that meant a new danger approached: people. More people out and about meant more opportunities for you, but more danger as well.

More people meant more to beg from, but also more people that would be willing to hurt you in some way or another. It also meant more competition from other street people, who you knew from experience, absolutely were willing to hurt you.

You were surprisingly good at surviving out here on the streets. It wasn't ideal, not by a long shot. You suffered, you shivered, you starved, just like everyone else out here. But you didn't get sick as much as the others, you always seemed to know the best places and targets for begging. You were still relatively young, and could feign cuteness.

Most of the people out here were betas. Alphas didn't generally end up homeless, and Omegas were usually snapped up before it could happen to them. Just another example of social inequality.

You were no Omega, but you had the same, strong sense of smell. It helped you avoid danger sometimes, and choose begging targets-mostly Omegas, who were soft. Your dumbass, prepper parents had at least taught you some useful survival skills: climbing, rough shelter, even what weeds could be eaten. Sure, you weren't supposed to eat things that grew close to roads or buildings, but you were also eating literal garbage sometimes, so you were in no position to worry about that.

While the city center wasn't your usual haunt, with its hostile architecture, and its increased police presence, you had accidentally fallen asleep on the subway, and this was where they had kicked you out. It was a long walk back to the suburbs you liked to hide in, and you really had to pee.

The Avenger's Tower Museum was a landmark now, and a tourist trap. It was easy to slip in and find a restroom. With everybody so caught up in learning about famous heroes, no one paid attention to a random patron, even if she was dirtier that the usual visitor.

You knew the Avengers had a separate training compound somewhere out in the countryside, but that they could sometimes also be found here. You knew Tony Stark, in particular, had moved back to the upper reaches of the tower, after his house had been blown up. Perils of being a superhero, you supposed. You hoped they weren't here today. You were going to take advantage, and it felt a bit wrong if the heroes were here.

The bathroom was big, and the stalls were spacious and sparkling clean. You felt like a mud smear on the immaculate walls. Well, that was okay, you were hoping to take care of that problem, at least a little bit.

You hid out in one of the stalls, stripping your shirt off, but leaving your jacket on. You'd done this a few times before, and it was always risky, and took forever, but you had to clean up somehow.

When there was no one in the bathroom with you, you rushed out of the stall, soaked your shirt in the sink, wrung it out slightly, then dashed back into the stall. With the door locked behind you, you stripped off your bra and jacket, then began scrubbing yourself with your wet shirt. Darting back out, you got some soap, and rubbed it all over yourself back in the stall. You cleaned your whole body this way, drying yourself off with your sweatpants.

Now for the hard part.

Partially dressed, you soaked, soaped, and scrubbed each article of clothing in turn, hanging them around the stall to dry. This part took forever, and was extra risky, but it wasn't as if you had anything else to do today, and you didn't get the opportunity to clean your clothes very often.

It proved to be too risky. Someone must have noticed that you were acting suspicious, because the next thing you knew you were being hauled, half dressed, out of the bathroom and across the main floor. They were actually going to toss you out on the street without even all your clothes on!

“Oh hey, what do we have here?” Someone asked. It was a voice that didn't seem used to being ignored.

“Just a drifter, Mr. Stark. We caught her shooting up in the bathroom.” One of the security guards said. You both bristled at the total lie, and sank at the sound of the mans name. You hadn't wanted any of them to see you.

“I was not!” You protested. “I was washing up! There's nothing against the law about getting clean!”

“Is that why she's naked?” Stark asked, a little incredulous over what he was seeing.

“I was drying my clothes, but they pulled me out of the stall before I could get them back on.” You grumbled, not expecting anything to come of it. Maybe he would get you your clothes back before you were tossed out. Otherwise, you would be needing to dig around for a pair of pants.

“Seriously? All those training videos I pay for, and you really think throwing a half-dressed woman out on the street is part of acceptable procedure?” Stark snorted. “No, no, no. You-” He pointed at you with a flourish of his hand. “Come with me. And you two get ready for some sensitivity training sessions.”

He led you away from the security guards and staring tourists, into the back hallways used by staff. It vaguely occurred to you that you ought to be distrustful of being a homeless, half-naked woman practically alone in a hidden hallway with a powerful man, but...well, he was Iron Man. Yes, he had a reputation as a former womanizer, but no one had yet come forward to say that any of it hadn't been consensual.

Besides, if he really was like that, Mrs. Potts probably would have torn his spine out through his ass. As Alphas went, she seemed the very no-nonsense type. Maybe not arrogant, so much as not willing to put up with much in the way of shenanigans. Perhaps she'd chosen the wrong mate. Or perhaps her influence kept him from getting into even more trouble than he already did.  

“Were your clothes dry? Do you want me to send someone to get them?”

“Nah, they were still pretty wet. I was just gonna put them on and leave. I really wasn't doing anything wrong, seriously. I just wanted to wash up and get out. Didn't wanna bother nobody. But they are still hanging in the stall, so someone oughta get them.”

“Okay, can do. Here.” He tapped a code into a pad, and a closet door opened up. Peeking inside, you saw a lot of very organized janitorial equipment, including carts, vacuums, waxing machines, and uniforms. Stark pointed at those. “Get yourself some pants, please. I feel like a sleazebag here.”

You grabbed some pants as he turned his back.

“Get yourself a shirt too. And one of those vests. And a hat.” He said, and you did, putting on the new clothes. “I swear, my whole security team makes me look like some kind of tyrant. They're so severe! I mean, I guess that's what I should have expected, hiring on former S.H.I.E.L.D. agents. But they needed jobs after Nat dropped that truth bomb about HYDRA all over the internet...You knew about that, right?”

“Yeah, I think squids living under a rock at the bottom of the ocean even heard about that.”

“Well, they're good people, mostly, but they're just so serious. They had to be, to do their former jobs, and they just brought it with them into this job. It doesn't occur to them that tossing a naked lady out onto the street makes me look really bad, and isn't very nice to you either. Even if you were getting high in the bathroom, I don't really care. I'm not perfect, I've indulged in the occasional magic brownie. Can't judge. Grab that cart will you? Wall chart says it's about time for that bathroom to get cleaned.”

The man was an absolute chatterbox, and you had your hands on the cart before it registered that he had even said it. Was that how he always got his way? You were no Omega, and he was no Alpha, but he was powerful nonetheless, and he overwhelmed you with words. You just found yourself doing whatever it was he said.

You followed him out to the bathroom, fully dressed, and dragging the cart behind you, expecting to collect your wet clothes and leave.

“Now, don't forget to put on your gloves, and one of these masks here, so you don't breathe in the cleaners. You know,” He said at your bewildered glance. “Since you like cleaning things so much.”

“U-um...”

“Code's twenty-four thirty, check the wall chart for what's next. You can read and write?”

“Yes...?”

“Great! I'll get an application sent to you at the end of the shift. Have fun!”

He strode off into the crowd without a second glance back, and disappeared into the crowd, leaving you deeply confused, hopeful, and just a little repulsed.

You had a job now, it seemed. All of a sudden, you were gainfully employed. He had the power to completely reorder your life on a whim. That was terrifying, but also an opportunity you didn't want to let slip. If he was feeling generous, you would take advantage of it.

You put on a pair of gloves, and slipped a paper mask over your face. It was time to go to work.

                                                                                                                                                  *****

This was a little harder than you had thought it would be. Since you hadn't done this before, or gotten any training at all, you were mostly just guessing what cleaners to use, and what proper toilet cleaning procedure might be. You weren't sure how to open the automatic paper towel dispensers in order to put in new rolls, or where to put the wet floor sign when you mopped. Also, people kept coming in and ruining your work, though you supposed that was part of the point.

It took about an hour for you to get the whole place scrubbed, restocked, and shining. You had cleaned every speck of dust or dirt, and paid close attention to every tiny detail. That ought to be satisfactory.

You wheeled the cart back into the Employee's Only halls, only to be stopped by a tall, frowning woman.

“Who are you?” She demanded. “Who told you you could take this cart?”

“New hire.” You said, hoping she would see that you were busy and let you go on your way. You didn't like the look of her.

“I wasn't informed of any new hire!”

“Very new. Just came on this morning.”

She grasped the cart, stopping you in place.

“I run the janitorial department. I wasn't informed of any new hire. I'm notifying security.”

“Mr. Stark brought me on himself!” You protested. “Just this morning! It was real sudden, but that's what happened.”

“Bullshit. I'll just ask him directly, shall I?” She whipped out a very smart looking phone, and pressed a single digit on its nearly flat face.

A minute passed. Dragged. Stretched. The woman's' frown grew deeper, and you struggled to refrain from sarcastic comments about her perceived self-importance.

Finally, the phone picked up.

“Yo.” Came Stark's bored voice.

“I've caught a vagrant in the D-3 hallway. She's either trying to steal or to spy. She says you personally hired her this morning.”

“Huh? Who?”

Your heart sank. Seemed like the game was over.

“Oh yeah! She's our newest janitor. Real passion for cleaning.”

“Wh-really? But sir!”

“Don't worry. Florence. Didn't you just send me an email suggesting you were short-handed since Anne got married? Well, there you go! Problem solved, and almost immediately. Get along now. Bye!”

“But-” The phone went dark again. You were honestly surprised he had answered in the first place. The man was a billionaire, on top of the world, a hero and one of the most famous figures mankind had ever known. Smash together King Tut, Einstein, and Elvis, and the resulting super-person would still have nothing on the fame of Anthony Stark. And 'Florence' here was a grump who seemed to think a bit too much of her own importance.

She glared at you. You shrugged.

“Fine. Show me what you did.”

You took her to the bathroom, proudly showing off your sparkling work.

“So you took this cart at nine fourty-six, and have only gotten back now...it took you an hour to do this?”

You weren't completely in love with her tone.

“Where did you get your training?”

“Uh...”

“Thought so. He just grabbed you and tossed you into this didn't he? Look, taking a whole hour to clean one bathroom is not going to cut it. This building is ninety-three floors, and each one has several bathrooms which, incidentally, will not be the only things you will be expected to clean. You will have to speed up.”

She glanced around. “I see what you've done here. You've scrubbed literally everything. Behind the toilets. The underside of the sinks. The trash cans. You can't do this every time. It'll just take too long. You need to learn the basics before you start doing all the extra stuff.”

Well that was new. Getting reprimanded for doing your job too well.

“Come along. We'll do another bathroom. I'll show you the basics.”

You followed her out of the bathroom and into the hidden halls.

“We don't go wheeling the bathroom carts out among the museum tours.” She lectured. “Even though we are cleaners, anything associated with toilets becomes associated with filth, in the laymans eyes. There are maps here and there, but if you think you're going to work here, you'll get the layout memorized quickly.”

You spent another hour and a half learning basic bathroom cleaning techniques. This was apparently what you would be spending most of your time on. Every bathroom on the ten museum floors was scheduled to be cleaned once per two hours, and every bathroom on the dozens of office and lab floors at least three times per day. You would not be alone in doing this task, but since, as had been pointed out, the janitorial team was shorthanded, you would have to do many of them, and you would have to learn to do it fast. Florence didn't seem terribly convinced that you would be able to.

She sure had a lot to say about you; carefully cloaked jabs at your appearance, hygiene, and intelligence. She even seemed to insinuate that you smelled bad, on the elevator up to the highest level of labs that you would be given access to. You felt that was rather unfair; you had technically just washed, and you were even wearing fresh clothes!

Upon disembarking the elevator, Florence led you to each of the bathrooms on the floor, and you glanced into the labs. Away from the museum, you didn't have to sneak through hidden halls to avoid being spotted by the general public, and could see what was going on around you.

There was a lot of...very sciency stuff going on in those labs, and you didn't understand a lick of it. But it might be nice to learn sometime.

A loud, but faraway sound penetrated the lab, like a roaring wind. You'd have guessed that it really was nothing but the wind, rushing around the building, dozens of floors higher into the air than you'd ever been, except...

Except that everyone, Florence included, paused in what they were doing, and looked toward the ceiling. As if they'd heard it before, and knew it heralded something. One man, far down the hall, left his lab and booked it to another elevator.

“What was that?” You asked, mildly nervous.

“Nothing we need to concern ourselves with.” She answered. “We should go back downstairs. Khalil should be getting in soon; I'll have him show you how the floor waxers work, and where the box and trash compactors are, while I scrape you up an application, and get you entered into the system.”

As she led you away, a column of prismatic, screaming light faded from a special platform, far, far above you, and two people stepped onto the very top floor of the tower.

#loki x reader #loki (marvel) #tony stark #a/b/o #sorta kinda

[tippitv]

TippiTV recap: SPN 15.01 “Back and to the Future”

First a quick note on the format of this recap: I'm dealing with some neck/back/shoulder pain so I'm not going to make a bunch of captioned screen shots and diagrams and other visual aids like I usually do. That stuff, while hugely fun to do, is time-consuming even under ideal conditions. I will instead attempt to provide you with mental images of graphics I would have made.

Now, let's get on with things.

Welcome to the 15th and final season of Supernatural, everyone! If the show were a person we could give it a Quinceañera.

[Graphic: The Impala in a beautiful taffeta gown and tiara and like... satin mudflaps instead of gloves.]

It's been 5140 days since the show premiered. That's 123,360 hours. Our solar system travels around the center of the galaxy at 490,000 miles per hour. This means we have moved through 6.04464e10 miles of space since this show premiered. I don't even know what that means. Once numbers start getting letters in them, I'm lost. But it's got to be nearly as many miles as are on the Impala's odometer.

[graphic of our solar system and the Chevy Impala zooming through space together, perhaps in friendly competition]

The road so far: Man, I do not remember a lot of this. Relevant to this episode is God throwing a hissy fit, killing Jack, and releasing all the souls and/or demons from Hell.

Currently: Jack's eyeless corpse is lying around as corpses are wont to do. The surviving members of Team Free Will are fighting a lot of freshly risen dead bodies that were possessed by the released souls. If it were me just out of Hell, I wouldn't waste time in a rotted corpse. I'd just fuck off as quickly as possible and possess someone who's eating a deep-dish cheese pizza.

The risen dead are polite enough to mostly attack the Winchesters one or two at a time, so they get to grab Jack's corpse and run into a mausoleum for shelter. Okay I understand why the souls can't get through the iron doors but what's stopping the disembodied ones from just going through a window? Or through a stone wall, for that matter?

Sam asks Castiel if he can bring Jack back but he sounds like he already knows the answer. A mid-level angel without all his original powers isn't gonna be able to undo what God's done unless the plot requires it.

[Graphic of Sam's incredibly sad face as he says or thinks "maybe the plot will require it later?"]

Everyone tries to figure out what they're going to do next. Dean snarkily wonders if they're going to starve to death. I mean, no, because the ambulatory corpses will break in before long. Failing that, they'd die of thirst unless Castiel has like a TARDIS bladder that holds Dasani, and then they could eat Jack. Mmm nephilim jerky....

Proving my point for me, a resident of the mausoleum or perhaps a neighbor tries to bust through some of the loose stones just as Sam starts chipping away at them in search of an escape route. Castiel smashes its head with a big rock, causing the ghost to flee? I guess? Whatever it is looks like a glowy skeleton and ghosts usually look like their living selves for the most part.

"What the hell are we gonna do now?" Sam asks.

Ol' Eyeless Jack pops up and says in a friendly tone of voice, "Hello!" Nobody's super shocked by this turn of events.

[Graphic of Jo and Ellen saying "nobody stays dead on this show except us"]

It's just Jack's bod with a demon in it, though. Was he the one that looked like a glowy skeleton? Whatever. He happens upon some budget sunglasses on the floor nearby. No seriously they're sunglasses to save the budget because it wouldn't be cheap or timely to have to CGI empty eyes for the whole episode.

He introduces himself. "My name is Belvegar." The fuck? That sounds like a horrible portmanteau for shipping Mr. Belvedere with Garfield the cat.

[Graphic of Buckleming: "We'd write that!"]

I suppose I should check IMDB to see how that's spelled...

BELPHEGOR???

Oh okay apparently Belph is a prince of hell and "Lord of the Gap," which is like half a step up from being Lord of Old Navy. I'm looking this up on regular Wikipedia not Supernatural Wiki so the show didn't just make him up. It says here he seduces people by suggesting inventions that will make them wealthy. One time I came up with an idea for pills that would turn people's urine into toilet cleaner. I was going to call it Vita-Wiz. And that's why I've never been able to seduce anyone with my inventions.

Anyway Castiel shoves Belph up against a wall, as is customary on this show, and demands he leave Jack's bod. But Belph says he has some mojo that will get rid of all the hellish souls and demons currently trying to get into the mausoleum. Much like how Vita-Wiz gets rid of hard water stains and leaves your toilet with a minty fresh scent!

[Graphic: a colorfully jaunty ad for Vita-Wiz with Sam's endorsement a la the "Changing Channels" Herpexia ad. "I've got powerfully clean urine."]

Belph knows all about the Winchesters but is slightly surprised this latest fuckery is God's fault. He makes himself out to be a low-level demon so either he's lying or the show's not going with the prince of hell backstory. Judging by his delivery and mannerisms he thinks he's auditioning to be in Goodfellas: The High School Years.

[Graphic: High School Musical promo poster but make it mobster]

He goes on to say that, like the Winchesters, he wants all the souls back in Hell where they belong and he can get back to torturing them. "I like my job!" Unrelatable. He can't fix the main shitsplosion that's going on but says he can get them all out of the cemetery safely.

Using some "graveyard dirt" from the floor and angel blood from Convenienstiel, he works a little spell that turns all the risen dead back into just... dead. Unoccupied corpses litter the ground by the dozens. Man, what a mess. You know who isn't gonna like their job in the morning? The groundskeeper.

Also, that sure is a useful spell. I wonder if it will ever come up again...

"Where are all the ghosts?" Dean wonders.

Cut to two teenage girls somewhere else acting like teenage girls Dabb has seen in Troom Troom videos. One of the girls sees herself as a ghost in the mirror and claws her face clean off. Man, that ghost's wig is terrible. Is she Bloody Mary? I don't remember her wig being this bad. I can't believe they couldn't afford a better one even with the Budget Sunglasses.

Back to Three Men and a Belphy. Riding home in the Impala, Sam checks the news. So far, no mention of any kind of worldwide Ghostpocalypse. It seems like you're mostly safe in this universe as long as you don't live in middle America. Belph suggests they may be able to contain the ghosts before things get too out of hand and he just happens to know the right magic.

"Imagine a salt circle a mile wide," he says. Castiel points out that Harlan, Kansas is less than a mile from the cemetery so Dean hatches a plan to get everyone out so as to not trap them inside with the ghosts and demons. Is it gonna be a lame plan that would never work in reality?

But first they stop for a wrecked car on the side of the road. There's blood on the inside of the windshield but no body. "This look familiar to you?" Dean asks Sam. It looks like a lot of wrecks where someone got wanged on the head and wandered off in a daze, but they figure it's the Woman in White. "If she's back then they're all back," Dean goes on. "Every last one that we ever killed."

Okay shout out to everyone who answered my post where I asked if ghosts used to be obliterated rather than going to Hell. The consensus seems to be that the Winchesters didn't really know one way or the other early on and were guessing.

Cut to a woman running through a house with her young daughter in her arms. The aftermath of a destroyed birthday party can be seen. How late in the day were they throwing this kid's party?? To make a long story short, the ghost of John Wayne Gacy is chasing them. I'll just reiterate my hatred of this character, not because Gacy is a serial killer obv, but because it lacks internal logic! Why is he dressed like a clown?? He wasn't executed in his old clown outfit!

Suddenly it's daytime. It's like Bugs all over again. Sam, in a jacket with an FBI decal on it approaches what must be the dumbassiest dumbass sheriff in three states. He convinces the sheriff to evacuate the whole town because of a benzene leak and the sheriff just... takes his word for it. Like, he's never heard of a benzene pipeline in his hometown but doop de doop this handsome giraffe in a cheap jacket said to evacuate so it must be true!

Also why isn't the sheriff down at the cemetery?? Someone would've called that in by now! You know what I don't really care.

Meanwhile, Dean is in the car and tells Castiel to take Belph to go get supplies for the spell. Cas says he can't do it, he can't even bear to look at him. And Dean! Rolls! His! Eyes! Like, Jack's the closest thing Cas will probably ever have to a child. He was with Kelly through her pregnancy. It's only been like eight hours since the kid died horrifically. Don't roll your dang eyes!

Cas leaves and Dean puts the Equalizer gun in the glove compartment along with a copy of The Complete Works of Anton Chekhov.

Belph notices that everyone walking down the street is good-looking. Yeah, that's casting agencies for ya. He says back in his ancient penis-worshiping days, people were uglier. Belph appears to be an equal-opportunity ogler. He turns to Dean. "I mean look at you. You're gorgeous!"

[Graphic: Belphegor replacing his penis-shaped rock altar with that Skittles poster of Jensen Ackles.]

"So who was he anyway?" Belph asks, referring to his meatsuit. "He was our kid, kinda," Dean says. The show manages to resist making a Gay Dads joke that I feel like it would've given into in an earlier season. So, yay progress I guess?

Sam and Castiel split up to check every house for ghosts. That seems super time-consuming. How many Reapers are left besides Billie? I feel like they should get one on the horn unless they're all dead. Anyway, Cas's house is where the Troom Troom girls were killed. The ghost's wig looks even worse in daylight. Do they get their wigs from the Hobby Lobby doll crafting aisle or something?

Sam's house, meanwhile, is where John Wayne Ghosty went on a sartorially illogical rampage. Somehow the mother and daughter are still alive. Dumbass ghosts can't see behind a shelving unit, I guess. The instant Sam gets them safely down, Ass-Clown immediately slices him across the belly. Castiel shows up to blast the ghost with rock salt.

Meanwhile, Belph is fanboying over Dean's torturing skills. Gasp! The show remembered Dean was in Hell. It'd be nice if they were consistent about it but whatever. Belph casually mentions that all the doors in Hell opened and Dean realizes this means the cage, too.

[Graphic: That dancing gif of the actor who played Adam that says "Still in Hell" but now it says "Maybe not in Hell."]

Castiel heals Sam's wound and the fabric of his jacket! The mother and daughter are still standing there seeing all this. Cas is like, "Whatevs, I'm an angel of the Lord & Taylor." The mom is pretty flabbergasted, and even more so when Sam mentions the wound he sustained after shooting God. Castiel can't heal that one, though, because it's probably gonna be a recurring plot point judging by the flash of Evil Sam we see.

The sheriff is making a final sweep through town when he happens upon the Woman in White. The sun looks to be setting, which means it's probably been 16 hours since all the souls and demons escaped, but they're still basically within a mile of the cemetery? Even I, burdened with an easily exhausted flesh body with shitty joints could have gotten farther than that.

Anyway, Belph needs a fresh human heart for his spell so it's pretty handy of the sheriff to die! That way none of the mains need to do the morally objectionable thing of murdering someone.

Dean senses a sudden drop in temperature. "Winnie the Pooh, right now!"

WHAT THE FUUUUCK??

Hold on. I'm watching this at 1.2x speed. Let me rewatch it at 1x.

Okay he says "we need to move, right now."  My apologies to Mr. Pooh for thinking you could ever be a part of this.

[Graphic: Winnie the Pooh chipper as anything. "I CRAVE THE BLEAK ABIDING COMFORT OF DEATH AND HUNNY."]

At the same time, Sam and Castiel are walking the two survivors through town. The little girl pauses at a badly placed fish pond because she sees a woman in it. Is it Bloody Mary? What's she doing in a pond? Seriously though putting a pond right on the street corner is just asking for trouble even without spectral shenannigans. How many people have driven over the curb and right into that thing?

Okay I gotta stop getting hung up on landscaping issues. Even if they are HIGHLY IRRESPONSIBLE AND NONSENSICAL.

Dean is attacked by the Woman in White. Ass Clown goes after Sam and the others, and is soon joined by... a tall ghost and... Lizzie Borden? Sam accidentally shoots Cas full of rock salt when Lizzie vanishes, which is pretty funny although move ya pretty self out of the way, Cas. When she pops up behind him, she tries to choke him with the ax handle. It reminds me of that lesser known poem about Miss Borden.

Lizzie Borden had an ax Gave her mother 40 whacks Tried to choke the angel Cas 'Cause axing would've been too fast

In the ensuing fisticuffs, everyone has time to throw punches while Belph performs the spell. All he does is put the heart on a little pile of salt and chant some Latin. Is like the thing Ruby 1.0 did with that poor virgin girl's heart a million years ago?

Oh sweet Jeebus the sight of these ghosts chasing everyone on foot is... bad and funny. Y'all are ghosts! You can just blip in and out of wherever you want to go! One of the only upsides to being dead has got to be not having to do cardio anymore and here you are running the hundred yard dash like it's 6th grade PE class. They come screeching to a halt where the spell has created an invisible boundary. This might be worse than Hell.

[Graphic: Parisian street mimes trying to escape an invisible box]

But wait... Why wasn't Belphegor affected by this spell? Did he write in an exception clause? Or is it only for ghosts and not demons?

The Good Guys plus Belph bring the mom and daughter to the high school down the road where all the evacuees are sheltering. With no sheriff to coordinate things, isn't it all just gonna... fall to pieces now? How are they gonna convince everyone to stay away from their homes? What if someone needs their prescriptions? ("Oh no my Herpexia!") They can't get rid of the ghosts as long as Hell isn't in business anymore, right? This is a mess. Dean seems to know it.

Dang why are Castiel and Dean on such icy terms? Why do I not remember last season?

Now that they have a five second breather before the shit hits the fan, Dean wants to see Sam's godly bullet wound. It looks a little crusty but not too bad except... "There's no exit wound," Dean notes. He gives it a swipe with some alcohol which will surely kill whatever supernatural E. coli is in there.

"So when Chuck said this was the end I guess this is what he meant," Sam says. Yes being trapped in a high school with my neighbors seems like end times to me, too. Tonally, things seemed a lot more dire in All Hell Breaks Loose 2.

Dean's feeling a bit embittered about discovering they didn't have as much free will as they'd thought, that everything was part of Chuck's personal lab experiment. "What did it all mean?" he wonders. "It meant a lot," Sam says. "We still saved people."

But what even are people, man? I'm going to have an existential crisis and I can't drink as much as Dean because I have that "Asian flush" gene thing. One drink and I turn super red and hot and queasy and then I pass out.

Sam thinks God has fucked off to who knows where because he hasn't seen the promos for episode 2 yet. "He gets bored and starts another story." Ah yes like me and my WiPs. Relatable. Overall, Sam is feeling much more optimistic. "Once we win this, God is gone... and it's just us. We're free."

Dean catches his optimism cooties. "I like those odds," he says of fighting billions of evil souls. You know what that means? We got work to do. Quick intercut of Baby Winchesters with Middle-Aged Winchesters saying the same thing and closing the trunk of the Impala.

[Graphic: Impala with the solar system again. This time the Impala is pulling ahead. "ONE MORE TIME AROUND, SONS O' BITCHES"]

So there we are at the first episode of the final season. Reblog or reply with what you thought of the episode and thanks for reading!

One final note:

You can read more about my writing and general life situation and GoFundMe here: https://tippitv.tumblr.com/post/188224749207/supernatural-final-season-recaps-and-assorted

If you enjoyed the recap and are able, please visit my virtual tip jar: paypal.me/TippiBlevins or https://ko-fi.com/A4017DA

Henry Hound and I could use the financial help!

See you next week.

#spn recap #supernatural #spn #tippitv #my recaps

[lastbluetardis]

Accidentally in Love (1/2)

This was written for @doctorroseprompts and their prompt of accidental bonding.

Ten x Rose, ~5500 words, teen

This is set after Tooth and Claw (and The Stone Rose) but before School Reunion.

When the Doctor and Rose are chased by a telepathically-sensitive group of aliens, he forms a temporary telepathic link with her to shield her from detection. But after the danger has passed, the Doctor is alarmed to realize that his connection with Rose is a little more than temporary.

AO3

The Doctor pumped his arms harder as he heard the pounding footsteps and grunts closing in on them. He chanced a glance back and noted with relief that Rose was still keeping up, red-faced and sweaty though she was.

He gritted his teeth and erected stronger telepathic shields, cursing himself for being so rusty with telepathy that he couldn’t cloak his mind well enough to throw their captors off their trail. 

He and Rose had, once again, found themselves in a spot of trouble. The aliens chasing them—the Sikans—had corrupted the minds of the government and had used this to their advantage to slowly take over the city. They’d already taken an area of land as big as the United Kingdom before the Doctor cottoned on to their plot and had blasted the city with a brief pulse of electromagnetic radiation at just the right frequency to return the brainwaves of the government officials back to normal, giving them back their freedom.

When the radical Sikans realized what the Doctor had done, they’d given chase, both to escape the furious government and to get revenge on the Doctor and Rose.

“Slow down,” Rose wheezed.

“Can’t,” the Doctor snapped. “They’re closing in on us. Please, Rose, you need to keep running.”

“How come they can track us so well?” she asked, panting for breath.

“They can trace even the faintest telepathic creature,” he answered. “All Sikans can recognize other Sikans, but my mental signature is slightly different, so they’re tracking that. I’ve tried to shield my mind, but apparently my shields are rubbish because they’re still following us.”

“What about me?” she asked, her voice going high in alarm.

“What about you?”

“You said they’re tracking telepathic signatures,” she said. “You told me that all humans…”

“…All humans have low-level telepathic receptors,” the Doctor whispered, his body going numb. He’d shielded himself, all right, but he didn’t even think to shield Rose. Most species couldn’t recognize a human’s latent ability for telepathy. But Sikans were one of the most intelligent and telepathically-sensitive beings in the universe. He stopped on the spot and pivoted towards Rose until she nearly crashed into his chest.

“Oi!”

“C’mere,” he said, grabbing her hand and pulling her into a nearby building. It was some sort of restaurant. A bar, judging by the loud and raucous customers and the bright-colored drinks. He brought his fingers to Rose’s temples as he said, “Rose, I need to go into your mind. They’re tracking you, and you have no way of shielding yourself. I’m so sorry, I know you don’t like telepathy, but…”

“No, I just don’t like telepathy when it’s used on me without my knowledge,” she corrected. “Do what you need to do, Doctor. I trust you.”

The Doctor’s throat swelled shut at the sincerity gleaming in her eyes. He wished he could tell her what it meant to him that she trusted him so implicitly with something as intimate as this.

“Just let me in,” he whispered, closing his eyes as he pressed his fingertips to her temples. As soon as he reached out, he was engulfed in Rose’s mind. It was beautiful. It was so soft, warm, and bright. It felt so right, as though he was always meant to be there.

“All right?” Rose asked.

“Yeah,” he said gruffly. “Sorry. You just… this feels nice.”

“Yeah it does,” she murmured, and he shivered when he felt just how much she was enjoying this. Telepathic contact always felt good, but this… This was more than good. Indescribably good. He never wanted to leave this place, and his chest ached with the knowledge that he would have to break the connection when he and Rose were safe.

“Okay, just stay open to me,” he instructed, moving through her mind. “I’m going to bring you into my mind, now. Okay? Just… just follow me. This is hard to describe. I’ll try to be as gentle as I can.”

He found the edges of her mind and reached out and cradled her mind close to him. He expected to have to put in a lot of effort to take her behind his shields, but Rose moved with him as effortlessly as walking alongside him in the physical world.

You’re doing really well, he praised, guiding Rose’s mental center into his.

He felt her flash of pride and happiness at the compliment, and he made a mental note to compliment her more often. As soon as they slipped into his mind, he felt a wave of awe roll through her. He smiled as Rose tentatively explored his mind, but only staying within the confines of his mind that he had led her into.

She was acting like a natural telepath, the way she moved her mind with his. The way she didn’t try to explore his mind without his consent.

Once again, the Doctor’s chest grew warm as he ached to deepen this connection with Rose. But no, this was for her protection only. He was only there to help her and keep her safe until they got back to the TARDIS. Then he would leave her mind and go back to being her best mate and try to forget that he’d shared such a deep and intimate connection with the woman he—

He locked down that thought as quickly as it came. Connected like this, he and Rose were open books to each other, and it wouldn’t do for him to admit how much he felt for his companion.

He frowned at that word. Rose was so much more than a companion.

Surprise swelled through him, and his ears burned when he realized Rose has caught onto that thought. When he looked down at her, she was resolutely staring out the window. His stomach twisted with rejection. She’d just heard him admit that she was so much more to him than anyone he’d traveled with before, yet she wanted to pretend she hadn’t heard that.

Of course she did. Of course she didn’t see him as anything other than a friend. He was an alien. An ancient alien. Cursing himself, he forced that train of thought to come to a screeching halt and he desperately tried to keep his mind blank to save himself more embarrassment.

“Is that them?” Rose whispered suddenly, the Doctor’s head ached slightly as he heard the question aloud and in his mind.

Yeah, he answered, peeking out the window as their captors sprinted past the pub. Let’s just stay in here for a minute or two.

“How do you do that?” she asked. “I can hear you talking, but your lips aren’t moving.”

The Doctor turned to her and saw the furrow in her brow. He smiled down at her. You can think aloud in your head, can’t you? Try it.

The furrow in her brow deepened, and the Doctor winced when she shouted, This is so odd!

Rose saw his wince, and she frowned. “What did I do wrong?”

You’re just a little loud, he answered. Try it again. It’s not that difficult. You’re in my mind, Rose, so you don’t need to think so loudly.

She rolled her eyes and muttered, Never done this before, have I?

But you’re catching on so quickly. He grinned when her eyes widened.

So we could talk privately like this, and only you can hear me? Rose looked around the room as though to make sure nobody was eavesdropping. But nobody was paying any attention to them. It’s so intimate.

The Doctor shivered at the yearning in Rose’s voice, then he felt her mind shrink away from his. He frowned and had to keep himself from reaching out to keep her where she was, but then he recognized the embarrassment rolling through her.

Hang on, let me try something, the Doctor said. He tried to erect a layer of protection between his mind and hers so that she—and he—would have a bit of privacy until he could break their connection.

But when he tried to put up a wall between them, pain bloomed behind his eyes and he heard Rose whimper and clutch at her head. He immediately stopped, and he reached out for Rose’s mind.

I’m so sorry. That wasn’t supposed to happen. Not sure why that happened. Are you all right?

Yeah, she said, rubbing at her forehead. She frowned. What did you do? Please don’t do that again. Blimey, that hurt.

He gently prodded her mind, looking for any injury. He found a slightly raw spot, and he ran a soothing touch over it. Telepathy was supposed to feel nice. He hated that he’d accidentally hurt her. He never ever wanted her to know pain from telepathic contact with him.

A rush of bitterness coursed through him. All the times he’d indulged in thinking about sharing a telepathic connection with Rose, he’d never once imagined this. He’d always imagined it being more intimate and more consensual, and preferably when they were already in a relationship together.

The Doctor slammed his mind behind another wall, and he heard Rose cry out again.

Bugger! I’m sorry!

What are you doing?!

I’m trying to give us a bit of privacy so our every thought and emotion isn’t projected to the other, he snapped, suddenly feeling so vulnerable.

Well quit it, you’re giving me a headache, she said.

I should be able to do this, he grumbled, moving slowly to separate his mind from Rose’s to give them a bit of space. But her mind moved with his, and when he gently tried to extricate himself, he felt the beginnings of a pressure that would turn into pain if he kept moving.

Panic began to swell up inside of him. Why was he having such trouble disconnecting with Rose?

Don’t disconnect anything ‘til we’re home, Rose threatened, and the Doctor loved that she called his ship ‘home’. ‘Course she’s home. I live there, don’t I?

The Doctor ignored her and he instead said, I think we’re safe. Let’s go.

He poked his head out of the pub and upon seeing the empty street, he ushered Rose outside. Unthinkingly, he threaded their fingers together, and his nerve endings seemed to zing with energy when his skin touched hers. The way her fingers clenched around his let him know she felt it too. He was tempted to untangle their hands, but holding her hand felt so much better than usual.

Finally, they made it to the TARDIS. The Doctor dropped Rose’s hand and moved around the console to send them into the Vortex for the night. He paused when he saw Rose absently fiddling with a few knobs and buttons, and when he looked at them, he realized she’d completed a few steps of the dematerialization process.

When she saw him staring at her, her cheeks went pink and she mumbled, Sorry. Didn’t mean to muck anything up…

No, no, you’re exactly right. How’d you know what to do? The TARDIS hummed and his connection with his ship deepened. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Rose smile and run her fingers across the central console unit. Oh, of course. Being in my head, of course my bond with the TARDIS is in your head too. And, well, so am I. So you had a sense of how to fly her.

I could fly the TARDIS? Rose sounded incredulous and also a little hopeful, and the Doctor held out his hand for her.

Care to do the honors? He gestured for the lever, and he mirrored her giddy grin when she threw the lever and the rotor began to chug up and down. He threw back his head and laughed, delighted to see Rose flying his beloved ship.

The Doctor’s mind went red, sending heat down his neck and into his chest before it pooled in his belly. His stomach flipped when he got the sudden urge to kiss Rose, to pull her into his arms and press her body against his…

His arousal faded and mortification took its place. The rapid transition nearly gave him telepathic whiplash, but soon his own embarrassment was added to the mix when he realized the urge to snog had come from Rose.

She wanted to snog him?

He wanted to be delighted, but he felt how awful she was feeling. No matter what he wanted, he refused to make Rose any more uncomfortable.

“Right!”

They both winced at his too-loud voice and the echo in their minds of his words.

Sorry, he said. But it’s time to go back to being in our own heads.

The relief he could feel from Rose settled something hard in his stomach, and he clenched his jaw to keep his emotions under wrap. Sure, he never meant for this connection to be permanent, but it still stung to be reminded that Rose didn’t want him in her head anymore.

He pressed his fingertips to her temple and looked within himself to find Rose’s mind. It was where it had been for the last twenty minutes. Had it really only been twenty minutes?

I’m gonna guide you back to your own mind, he instructed, and her mind moved with his back into Rose’s headspace. His knees shook as he entered her mind again. It was the most beautiful place in the universe, and he didn’t want to leave. This is your stop, he joked weakly. But when he moved to leave her mind, her mental presence followed him. Rose, stop it.

Stop what?

Stop following me, he sighed.

I’m not following you. At least... I don’t think I’m following you? I don’t really know what I’m doing.

The Doctor’s hearts sped slightly. He closed his eyes and concentrated until he projected their physical forms onto their mental ones. Rose gasped, and he couldn’t help but smile as she looked around the room they were in.

What is this place? she asked, spinning around. The room was bright with a golden light, and it looked immeasurably long with many doors along the corridor.

It’s your mental landscape, he answered. The easiest way to try to understand a telepathic mind is by envisioning a room with a bunch of doors. Behind the doors are memories and experiences. They’re closed unless you choose to share them with me, in which case, they’ll open. For example…

The Doctor walked over to what appeared to be a closed door, but when he approached, the door swung open and he saw the memory of Rose looking down into his unconscious face as she begged him to wake up and help her. He felt her fear and her desperation, along with her sense of grief and loss as he lived the memory through her eyes.

He forced himself to turn around and extricate himself from the memory.

Er, that shouldn’t have happened, he said, feeling a sense of foreboding overcome him.

What’s that mean? Rose asked.

I don’t know, he said, even though he had a niggling suspicion. But it was impossible. Let’s walk down the corridor, he said instead.

The mental visage of Rose took his hand, and he nearly had to swallow back a groan at how good it felt. But she couldn’t muffle it in time, and embarrassment once again washed over them as she dropped his hand.

Sorry! she squeaked.

It’s fine, he said, his voice strained. Telepathic contact is different than physical contact.

He felt a question brewing from Rose, but the longer they walked in silence, he finally asked, What’s on your mind?

Rose giggled. Well, apart from us, I was just wondering… You’re telepathic.

Obviously, he prompted when she fell silent.

Is what we’re doing… intimate to a telepath? she asked quietly.

The Doctor stared resolutely forward and clenched his hands to his sides. He tried to keep his voice steady as he replied, Yeah. A bit.

He could tell Rose wanted him to elaborate, but he didn’t know how to tell her that the type of link they were sharing was something only romantically-involved couples usually indulged in. And so he didn’t say anything, and he continued walking. The doors along the corridor all opened as they walked by them, but the Doctor sped past them so he couldn’t peek in on them and invade Rose’s privacy more than he already had.

As they walked, the Doctor felt the shift that accompanied leaving Rose’s mind and entering his.

Oh, no, he moaned as the hallway shifted from something narrow, straight, and golden into something dark, huge, and multi-faceted. Many corridors extended out from a central room, and the Doctor spun around wildly. He could see the corridor they just came down, but Rose’s mental landscape should not be merged with his, unless…

The Doctor sprinted down a corridor in his mind, and his hearts raced when he felt Rose sprint after him.

Why are we running? Rose asked, keeping pace with him.

He ignored her and took a sharp left, then another left, then a right, but Rose followed him effortlessly.

No, no, no!

Doctor, what’s happened? Why are you running. Would you just stop?!

Again, he ignored her and sprinted back to the main room in his mind. The golden corridor of Rose’s mind was attached, and he took Rose’s hand in his. He ignored the pleasure of joining his mental presence with hers, and he tried to ignore the pleasure she was projecting.

Doctor, what…?

Let me try something, he said distractedly.

He walked forward until he began to feel the shift of going into Rose’s mind. He stopped just short of Rose’s mind, but he tugged on her hand until he positioned her in her mind while he was standing in his mind. He let go of her hand and threw up a wall between them.

Agony ripped through his skull, and he heard Rose cry out.

Doctor? Doctor! Doctor, please!

His chest felt too tight to breathe as he erased the wall between them, but he turned away from Rose and began guiding them out of the deep connection they were in.

When he blinked open his eyes, he saw Rose’s ashen face. When she opened her eyes, they were damp with tears. The sight caused his hearts to clench, and he ached to burrow deep in her mind and comfort his bondmate.

Because that’s what she was. He’d accidentally bonded with Rose. Against her will. Against her knowledge. Against her permission.

Against his, too.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, reaching out to massage her temples as he tried to blanket his mind—and therefore hers—in calm and quiet. He knew the pain of being cut off from a telepathic presence that was always supposed to be there, and he hated that he’d made her feel that. But they weren’t supposed to be bonded. She wasn’t supposed to be in his head permanently, and he wasn’t supposed to be in her head permanently either.

“What happened?” she asked, sniffling. “You were so angry. And so scared. Then it hurt so badly.”

“I know, I know,” he said. “I’m so sorry, Rose.”

“What happened?” she asked again.

“I can’t break our telepathic link,” he admitted, readying himself for her anger.

But all he felt was surprise.

“What do you mean?” she asked. “Can’t you just leave my head? You were gonna put me back in my own head then leave.”

“I tried,” he said. “But it’s hard to leave your own mental landscape.”

“What do you mean?” she asked. “But it’s my mind.”

“You saw it yourself,” he snapped, his patience wearing thin as his panic began to choke him. “You saw your mind meld right into mine. The corridor of your mind led right into the corridors of mine. I can’t separate us, Rose. I tried, and you felt what happened then.”

Rose’s mind was silent, and he wanted to beg her to talk to him, to tell him what she was thinking.

“Not thinking anything,” she whispered. “Just… why did this happen?”

The Doctor rubbed his hands across his face. “I don’t know. It shouldn’t have. I don’t know why. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

“So we’re stuck like this?”

The Doctor winced and his shoulders slumped.

“I’ll figure something out,” he mumbled. “In the meantime, we need to practice shutting down our thoughts and emotions.”

“Right,” she said. “Is that possible?”

“Yeah, ‘course,” he said. “Bonded couples weren’t completely open books to each other. With practice, we’ll be able to shield our thoughts from each other. It’ll take a bit of time, unfortunately. But the TARDIS has a room that might help. The Zero Room. It dampens the telepathic center. It’ll give us some peace and quiet as I figure this out. I’m so sorry Rose. If I’d known this would happen, I wouldn’t’ve…”

“You would’ve just let those mad Sikans get us?” she fired back.

“I would’ve figured something else out,” he said, but Rose’s glare let him know she’d caught his lie.

“Don’t lie to me,” she snapped. “Not when I can tell, Doctor. Please.”

The Doctor sighed. “Sorry.”

He breathed deeply for a few seconds until Rose asked, “You said ‘bonded couples’. What’s that?”

“You asked earlier if what we were doing was intimate,” he began, “and I said, ‘a bit’. Well, that was a teensy little lie, too. Er… the type of connection we have right now… it’s called a bond. A physical melding of the minds. Instead of our minds existing apart from each other, they’ve merged. Like the corridors. They used to be two separate rooms, but now they’re connected and we can walk in and out of each other’s mind effortlessly.

“And that type of connection was reserved for… well, for couples involved in a romantic relationship. Er… a relationship that was in the advanced stages of courtship.”

“So we’re married now?” Rose asked breathlessly.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered. “I never meant for this to happen. Ever.”

Hurt pulsed through his mind, and Rose ducked her face.

“I know,” she said, her voice small.

“Rose?”

He reached out to make her look at him, but she backed away from him. Her mind was still swirling with embarrassment and hurt, and he unthinkingly dove deeper into their connection to figure out the root of Rose’s emotions.

Rejection. That was the source of her distress.

“Stop that!” she cried, backing away from him physically as her mind scrambled to hide from him.

He cursed and withdrew as much as he could, trying to give her privacy.

“Sorry, Rose, I’m sorry!” he said, holding his hands up in surrender. “I didn’t mean to pry. It’s instinct for me. I’m so sorry. That was so rude. Please forgive me. But please… why are you so upset?”

“You just said you never wanted anything like this with me,” she snapped. “You really are a big, stupid alien if you don’t know why I’m upset.”

The Doctor’s mind reeled. He’d never said that.

“Don’t deny it,” she said sharply. “You said you never meant for this to happen. Ever. But now you’re stuck with a stupid ape human in your mind forever, because you and I both know you know there’s no way to undo this.”

“Rose, Rose, stop,” he said, stepping towards her. But she took a step back, keeping several feet of distance between them. He sighed and raked his hand through his hair. “Rose, you misunderstood me.”

“Don’t lie,” she mumbled, rubbing at her red eyes.

“I’m not,” he said, feeling frustrated. “You genuinely misunderstood me. I literally meant that I didn’t intend for this type of bond to be created today, at any point in the day. That’s all. Rose, this connection…” His voice failed him, and he debated leaving the sentence unsaid, but the tears he could still see shining in her eyes forced him to soldier on. He tentatively reached out for her mind, and when he felt her trying to stop him, he asked, Can I show you something? Please? I know you’re upset and I hurt you, but you’re still not understanding me.

Finally, he saw Rose nod and he felt her open up to him. He was rendered nearly breathless at the peace he felt at sharing his mind with her. He stared at a point over her shoulder as he let her feel everything he was feeling, unchecked.

He let her feel his fear and vulnerability at being so exposed. He let her feel his sorrow and regret that he foisted this upon them without their knowledge or consent. But mostly, he let her feel just how good it felt to share his mind with someone, and how he wouldn’t want this sort of connection with anyone but her.

Why me? she asked.

Rose, do you genuinely not know? His hearts broke a little at that, and he took a deep breath and pulled up everything he felt for Rose, letting her feel his raw love, devotion, and happiness. She gasped and stumbled to the console for balance. Rose, I’m in love with you. Have been for a very long time.

He pulled up the memory of that moment in Downing Street when he told her he could save the world but lose her. He’d known her for only a week, yet she had become so important to him, and the agony that lanced through his chest at the thought of losing her had nearly been enough to tell Mickey to sod it, to cancel the missile strike on Downing Street.

He felt her shock and awe when he shared the memory with her.

I’d already grown so attached to you, Rose, and I knew I wanted you in my life forever. Even then.

He changed to a new memory, of that Dalek calling her the woman he loved, and how powerless he felt because the Dalek was right. Rose was the woman he loved, and he was helpless to save her.

He then showed her the memory of the searing jealousy he felt when Rose flirted with Captain Jack, then the smugness he felt when she turned to dance with him instead.

You’re the only one I ever want to dance with, he admitted. And his cheeks burned when he added, Literal and figurative dancing.

He chanced a glance at her and saw her tears had fallen. He panicked that he was mucking everything up further, but then he felt her barely-leashed hope. Needing to destroy any doubts she had, he kept feeding her his memories. He showed her his absolute devastation and hearts-break when he thought she’d been killed on the Game Station. He showed her his fierce need to protect her, so he tricked her into going home. He showed her the awe he felt when she came back, and he showed her how humbled and in love he felt when she revealed herself to be the Bad Wolf.

Rose, you held all of time in your head, and all you wanted to do with it was to keep me safe. Gods, there was no turning back then. I’d already loved you for months, but that… That moment, I knew that I would be yours, forever.

He showed her his terror as he realized becoming Bad Wolf would kill her, and so without hesitation, he took the power from her to save her life.

Grief buffeted him, and the Doctor looked up to see Rose’s face had crumpled.

“I killed you?” she whimpered.

“No, Rose,” he said gently, stepping up to her. “You saved me. Since I met you in that basement of Henrik’s, you’ve been saving me every minute of every day. And I fall deeper in love with you every day. As much as I tried to run from it.”

“Why?” she sniffled, wiping at her eyes.

He reached out and cradled her cheeks in his palms. He rubbed his thumbs under her eyes, drying her tears.

“Because I was scared,” he answered. “You’re human. Your lifespan is a blip in time compared to mine. You would be gone soon, and I’d be alone again, but this time, no one could fill the void you left behind.”

Rose reached up and rested her hands on top of his. The warmth of her hands made his skin tingle. She gave his fingers a squeeze as she said, “I’m so sorry, Doctor. You know I’ll do everything in my power to stay with you as long as I can, right?”

He sighed but nodded. He absently stroked her skin as he waited for her to say something about everything he’d just said. He’d bared his soul to her, professed his undying love and devotion to her, but had no indication she felt similarly.

Rose’s brow furrowed, then her eyes widened.

“I love you, too,” she whispered, moving her hands to cup his cheeks. “I thought you knew.”

“I suspected,” he admitted. “But maybe I was projecting.”

Rose smiled at him for the first time since he’d tried to sever their unbreakable bond, and he leaned further into her touch.

“Daft alien,” she said fondly. “No, you weren’t projecting. I love you. I’ve loved you for so long.”

He watched her brow furrow and her tongue poke between her teeth in concentration. Moments later, he felt her side of their bond deepen until he was surrounded by her love. His knees felt like they could give out with the strength of the emotion. Her love was a ribbon that wound around every memory she had of him. It was at the center of her very being.

Oh, Rose.

My Doctor, she replied, stroking her fingertips up and down his cheeks. When they brushed across his temple, their bond flared red-hot, and the Doctor groaned at the pleasure he felt.

Sorry! she squealed, yanking her hand away from his temple.

He snagged her hand in his and brought it to his lips. He kissed her knuckles as he caught his breath, and he laughed against her skin.

I suppose as my wife, you have every right to come on to your husband, he drawled.

He felt Rose flush in part embarrassment, part arousal. Her eyes darkened, and she unconsciously licked her lips, making them shine so invitingly.

May I kiss you? he asked, brushing the pad of his thumb across her bottom lip.

I suppose as my husband, you have every right to kiss your wife, she teased.

He grinned down at her, feeling happier than he had all day. He stepped closer to her until her body was pressed up against his. She shivered in his arms, and he felt a shudder ripple down his spine in anticipation.

He kept her face cradled in his hands as he leaned down. His nose brushed down hers, and she whimpered with impatience before she grabbed the lapels of his coat and tugged him closer.

Their mouths crashed together without finesse. Their lips pressed tightly together and the Doctor’s nose was smooshed against her cheek, but it was amazing. It was their first kiss. Well. Their first kiss when they were both aware and cognizant of their actions, and one where both parties were active participants.

I’d wanted to kiss you longer in Rome, Rose admitted. But you pulled away too fast.

I panicked, he said.

He tilted his head to the side to get a better angle and to deepen the kiss. She groaned and buried her hands in his hair to hold him closer as she took his bottom lip between her lips. He hummed as her teeth nibbled against his bottom lip. Sharing kisses with Rose felt better than he ever imagined.

Not panicking now? she asked, scraping her fingers across his scalp.

He shivered. No. Not panicking. Don’t want to panic about anything with you again.

He felt Rose smile against his mouth, and he couldn’t help but smile back. He pulled out of the kiss to look down at her. Her lips were slightly red and her cheeks were pink.

“I don’t want to panic about anything in our relationship,” he told her, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “But I think I need to take this slowly. If that’s all right? Just this morning we were best mates who, admittedly, were already in love, but not acting on it. Now we have a bond. And shared our first kiss. And as brilliant as this feels, and as instinctual as it is to immediately progress this to the next level, I’m already so overwhelmed.”

Rose reached out and rested her hand over his chest where his hearts were pounding. He took a deep breath in to relax himself and to try to make her understand what he was fumbling to say.

“I understand,” she told him. “I do. This is all so new for me too. We can go as slowly as we need to. Just make sure you’re communicating with me, though.”

The Doctor smiled and deepened their connection as he rested his forehead against hers.

I’m done hiding from you, he whispered, pressing a light kiss to her mental presence.

Rose reciprocated the telepathic kiss, and the Doctor shivered at the intimacy. He gently guided them back to the physical world, where he nuzzled his nose against hers, then leaned down to catch her lips in another sweet and tender kiss.

#doctorroseprompts #ficandchips #dwfic #doctor who #ten x rose #telepathy #accidental bonding #romance #my fic #accidentally in love

[fashionand-online]

Dear Dan,

I want to tell you some thoughts on a fragment called “The Last Judgment” accredited with Hieronymus Bosch.

The painting was first recorded in 1822 as part of the collection of the Städtliche Gallery in Nuremberg. Later on, it came in possession of the Bavarian State Painting Collection, which also belongs to the Alte Pinakothek.

This fragment painted on oak wood was found 1817 (about 400 years after its production!) in the depot of the Nuremberg Castle in Bavaria. The original must have been huge: the dimensions of the fragment are 60cm x 114cm! It is supposed to be the lower right part of a triptych, if you look at the very bottom left you can see a big amount of dark blue fabric, this is said to belong to a great, standing archangel Michael. In that case, the painting would look as followed: at the top Christ as a judge, underneath him Michael weighing the souls, to his left, the resurrection of the elect, angels leading to heaven, and to his right the saved fragment: the damned, demons dragging them to hell. This structure was quite a typical one for the 15th century (check out below the polyptych of the Last Judgment by Rogier van der Weyden). It wasn’t even known for a long time if Bosch painted it or not –the new consensus is that it’s painted by an anonymous Bosch follower. This fragment displays the immense popularity and relevance of Bosch for the painters of his time.

What I find so exciting about this painting is not only its visual appeal, the content is so overwhelming: it depicts in a way a “hell on earth”, a system of the afterlife on our world, a visualization of dystopia in our future.

We know that Bosch was rather conservative, he belonged to this re-moralist brotherhood in his hometown and nearly never left the village he lived in. Most of his commissioners were catholic royals and his paintings said to depict the horror people would suffer in hell -  a very creative horror though. The goal of his paintings was to depict this hell and create fear inside of the observer and therefore behave more morally correct. Nevertheless today his paintings fulfill some sort of different role, we find them amazing and fantastic, many see them as the pioneering precursors of the surrealist paintings and find similarities between Dali’s and other surrealist paintings and Bosch’s. It makes sense if I was a little Dali boy and would see one of this paintings I would’ve also been heavily inspired!

Even though most of his figures appear nude, the aspect of metamorphosis, collage of elements and transformation is highly linked to fashion design. In a way, I could see modern designs by JW Anderson, Jacquemus, Craig Green, Charles Jeffrey Loverboy and the likes popping up in his paintings. Bosch’s sceneries also remind me of big fetish parties from bird-perspective: people in weird costume next to naked women and men, all in rather experimental, almost painful poses, creeping around, in dream-like landscapes. Several Designers used his paintings as prints and inspiration for their creations, among them also Lee Alexander McQueen in his very last other-worldly collection.

I will describe a few of my favorite figures in this painting. On the left side of the painting, we see about 10 naked people crawling up from holes in the ground. The holes are dark slits, the earth seems to be spitting out people. Among others, we see a pope, two royals and also a priest or pastor, all identifiable by their headgear. The ground is hissing out flames. On center top we can see a green-ish demon, its spine-bones are bunching out strongly, its butt towards the viewer. Two big wings span from its back, a mix of butterfly, moth, and bird, very organic and delicate. It is looking at us, with big black shiny eyes. Kind of a cocky face expression. With its mouse or fox ears, it resembles a bat-demon somewhat. He’s farting on a tortured soul. Not far from it we can see a rather elegant humanoid bird-creature. It has legs and hands of a human and head and tail of a bird, the tail turns into something lizard-y. Its bulky body covered in a long yellow gown, with typical medieval sleeves, wide and long, adorned with white feathers at the hem. With a long metallic rake at hand, it seems to be pulling humans out of the soil. Underneath it, we find two rather funny promenading individuals. The first one is an old guy with a white hood around his face, to both sides of his head grow a few thin filigree feathers. Its facial expression displays annoyance or displeasure. The small body stands on four human feet and is shrouded in a blue cloak with white lace parts. A ridiculously big tail a la peacock-feather-meets-platypus peeks out from the cloak. The other figure has a slightly slimmer body shape. Its white skin is naked. The tail and head are of a mouse (or rat), the snout being very pointy red with extremely long white feelers. Its head is covered in a nun-like white cloth, crowned by a red pointy hat. It seems to have a boob, or an udder hanging from its torso. This weird figure is basically just standing there, quasi-hanging out in hell….

Next is a group of four dwarfs or ogres. These figures are very important because they wear oriental clothing and one of them bears the Turkish coat of arms symbol, the moon, on his turban. This is a typical symbol in medieval Christian painting: the Turkish as representatives of the whole Arabic world and Islamic culture, and furthers representing the bad, the evil enemy and the devil. In the very center of the painting, we can see a monster which looks like an explosion. It has no head, instead two tails at the bottom and top of its body. The colors from its skin and wings are fancifully chosen. This demon is brutally smacking a tortured person against the fire-spitting ground. The demons take charge of the dead, who are evidently being led off to hell!

All creatures and scenes shown on this fragment are illustrating the insanity reigning in the devilish hell, a huge chaos rules the world of the sinners and traitors and nobody is safe! The creatures appear as fusions and metamorphosed mutants, all shapes and forms are mingling, all colors and kinds are melting to creatures which take quite a while for our minds to process! The fashion creations in our current world are not far from this, they are wicked and weird, they are materialistic and abundant, exaggerated and extreme. Imagine if eventually, Bosch was just a visionary fortune teller, he might have had some sort of magical crystal ball streaming him live imagery from London or Paris catwalks and runways, providing him with endless inspiration for these Babylonian sceneries!? Or maybe he was able to peek through a future-curtain directly into the studios of the big fashion houses, he could see the poor tortured souls of the interns being maltreated by eccentrically dressed fashion fanatics! We will never know exactly how Bosch’s creatures were conceptualized, but don’t you believe my fashion-visionary theory to not be too far from reality? 

text & image selection: Federico Protto

image sources:  The Last Judgement (fragment), by Hieronymus Bosch: boschproject.org Polyphonic of the Last Judgment by Rogier van der Weyden: artbible.info First Bosch detail: pinterest.de Other two Bosch details: boschproject.org All runway images: vogue.com

#fashion & _______ #fashion & catastrophe #catastrophe #fashion #hieronymous bosch #hyeronimus bosch #rogier van der weyden #art theory #federico protto #alexander mcqueen #charles jeffrey loverboy #charles jeffrey #jw anderson #craig green #jacquemus #vivienne westwood #federicoprotto

[peterjonesparker]

in which junior prom is a thing and michelle is having fun at the thing, which may or may not be because peter parker is her date, but shhhhh.

one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight (THIS ONE!) | nine

when michelle was younger, she didn’t exactly have a lot of suitors knocking down her door. none of her classmates were leaving cute notes in her locker or asking her to be their valentine. so maybe michelle is feeling a little nervous as she sits in front of the mirror on friday night. prom night.

6:07

prom is in the gym of midtown high. everyone agreed to leave her apartment at seven because who needs to show up on time? unless you’re cindy and you’re working the prom, but they don’t have that concern. everyone is supposed to arrive at her house at six thirty for snacks and prom pictures™. which means peter should be arriving in approximately eight minutes if his previous history is any indication.

she takes a deep breath, looking at herself in the mirror. her mother absolutely adored the red of her dress. so she took the lead with everything else prom related. she’s wearing her mom’s red heels from the nineties and her mom’s bold red lipstick from…well…from sephora, she thinks?

she doesn’t ask her mom about date nights with her dad. that’s just…weird.

anyway

michelle knows she looks beautiful. but part of her is worried. because, well, her previous crushes haven’t always thought so and she’s nervous that, despite all the signs she’s hoping that she’s reading correctly, peter only likes her as a friend.

“michelle.” her father calls from outside her bedroom door. “peter is here.” he slowly opens the door, sticking his head around. his smile spreads wide and bright across his face as he walks over to his daughter. “mj, honey, you look beautiful.” he hugs her tightly and mj smiles into his shoulder. she really loves her dad. but oh god, is he crying again?

“dad! you promised!” she pushes him away, hitting him lightly on the shoulder, though she’s chuckling with a bright grin on her face.

“I know, I know!” he wipes his tears quickly and takes a deep breath. “but it’s just you and I here, so it’s okay. I won’t cry in front of your boyfriend.” he draws out the word in a song and shakes his shoulders from side to side when he says it and michelle groans and wants to stomp off but these heels are higher than she’s used to so she just walks, simple and dignified.

she waits at her door for her dad, nonetheless. and if she grabs his hand before walking to the stairs, that’s nobody’s business. she’s allowed to do-

fuck

there is no way peter parker should ever be allowed to look that good.

he’s talking with her mother and laughing and his whole face is just lit up like the sun. he looks so happy and carefree. and his suit. it’s tight in all the right places. like, she knew he was spiderman so in theory he should have muscles, but it’s actually just straight up unfair how good he looks.

then her dad clears his throat and mj quickly bites her mouth closed. she hadn’t even realized it had fallen open. she might as well have been drooling. and then she locks eyes with peter and she smiles. she hopes the gulp he takes and the glaze that covers his eyes aren’t something she’s making up.

her mom cheers and claps as she walks down the stairs and michelle rolls her eyes but she’s actually very ecstatic because this is her prom and she’s going with the boy she likes and she’s wearing a beautiful dress. she’s allowed to be giddy and happy and excited and bashful.

when she reaches the bottom of the stairs, she hugs her mother and then looks at peter. she smiles as she meets his eye, but he still doesn’t look quite focused so she snaps in his face. “hey, loser, ready for prom?”

he jumps slightly, shaking his head, smile growing slowly on his face like the dopey nerd he is. “of course.” he moves back and forth on his heels a bit and michelle is overwhelmed by how precious he is and how much love she has for him. “I’m really excited.”

her mother looks between the two of them, who aren’t really looking anywhere but at each other, and announces that she’s going to go finish preparing the snacks in the kitchen. she grabs her husband’s hand and takes him with her.

mj and peter stand there, smiling at each other like dorks, and mj hasn’t felt this elated in a long time. she laughs, looking down briefly before giving him a quick once over. “you cleaned up nicely, parker. color me impressed”

peter smirk, grabbing the lapels of his suit proudly. “told you I would look good. my uncle ben had good taste.”

mj smiles, smoothing out his collar gently. “I can see that. it’s a good look, parker. you should wear it more often.”

his dopey grin fades a bit and he clears his throat. “you look really pretty, mj.” he looks stunned. “like, really pretty.” she has trouble trying to fight the butterflies in her stomach that threaten to fly out. and she has to maintain some element of cool here.

“thanks, dork. now let’s go eat some moon pies.” and so they walk to the kitchen and chat with her parents for a couple minutes before the doorbell rings and ned and betty are there and then the apartment really fills with noise. ned has an amazing ability to just. keep. talking. don’t tell him, but mj loves that about him.

they eat snacks her parents made and talk and laugh. they take embarrassing prom pictures™ on her staircase and maybe her happiness threatens to bubble over when peter wraps his arms around her waist. and maybe she’s frozen a bit and she can’t really breathe because those are his arms around her and his hands locked over her stomach. and she doesn’t even have to try to smile because she’s already doing it and she can’t help it.

everyone agreed that mj should drive because her brother left his car in new york and really, it’s her car too. no matter what alexander insists over the phone. (but she did get his permission to take the car for the night, promise to be the designated driver and all.)

so they all pile into the car and her parents give her a brief talk about responsibility and driving safely and consensual, protected sexual activity and she groans and wants to melt. she hugs them anyway and gets into the driver’s seat and peter puts his hand on hers briefly when she rests it on the center console. “thanks for asking me to come with you.”

she’s too stunned to smile and then he’s taking his hand off and smiling as he looks straight ahead at the car parked in front of them on the street. she shakes her head briefly, looking forward and placing both her hands on the steering wheel. she takes a deep breath and forces her heart to shut up for once as she turns the key and pulls into the street, on the way to the very exciting locale of midtown high.

ned and betty’s chatter fills the silence of the car ride and peter seems to just be content to smile, but his hand is resting on the center console and she doesn’t know if that means he wants to hold her hand or not and she doesn’t want to hold it if he doesn’t want her too so she just keeps her hands planted on the steering wheel. focus on driving, mj.

so that’s what she does. and if she keeps looking over at peter, smiling if he happens to be looking at her, and then blushing and quickly turning back to the road, well, no one can judge her.

when they arrive at the school, she parks the car and they all walk over together, back to laughing and shouting about silly things. peter offers her his arm and she blushes when she wraps her hand around it, holding him to her tightly through this one point of connection.

michelle will be the first to admit: she is very impressed with the setup of the prom. the decorations are beautiful. she actually likes the song playing. she’s there with all her friends and oh my goodness, are those brownies? she makes a note that she needs to compliment cindy and the rest of the team responsible for putting this together.

and then they’re just….at prom. and they all walk over to where the rest of the team is hanging out, even flash thompson. and the whole team jokes around and laughs and brags to each other about their two year winning streak and making it a triple. and it’s fun.

so michelle allows herself to make weird faces in the cheesy photo booth set up in the corner and she allows herself to drink really sugary punch and pretend to gag at ned and she allows herself to dance awkwardly and sway side to side as a pop song plays and she allows herself to look at peter and smile at him and make jokes with him and wrap her arm around his shoulders when she calls him a loser and he makes a face like he’s sad. (he isn’t.)

and she and peter are laughing at how ned blushed red as a tomato because betty kissed him on the cheek when peter just…gasps. she looks up to find him staring off toward the dance floor, face completely entranced and blank. “uh, earth to parker?”

he whips his head around to look at her and his cheeks are slightly pink. “sorry, it’s just, uh-” he looks down at his shoes, hands moving back and forth at his sides, “this is like, my favorite song.”

and michelle listens more closely. and wonderful tonight? oh god, her mother listened to this song on repeat for all of her middle school years. really? she never took peter for a sappy romantic. but she guesses he’s just full of surprises. and then she looks at the dance floor and couples have matched up and entwined themselves, swaying slowly back and forth as eric clapton croons the lyric, “you look wonderful tonight”.

oh

peter’s favorite song isn’t just a romantic song. it’s a slow dance song. arms around your neck, hands on your waist, head on the shoulder slow dance song.

and

well

michelle doesn’t want him to have to stand around while his favorite song plays at their junior prom. so, despite all the flurries she’s getting from listening to this song about a man telling a woman that she looks wonderful:

“okay, then let’s dance, dork.”

so, slowly and most definitely awkwardly, the pair makes their way to the dance floor to join the hoards of other students dancing. and michelle takes a deep breath and wraps her arms loosely around his shoulders while he lightly grabs her waist. and they start dancing.

they don’t talk for a few moments, both looking determinedly over the other’s shoulder. and then

“michelle, I-” she looks at peter, eyes gentle and nervous.

“yes?” she tries to keep her voice calm and decidedly not desperate. and she doesn’t dare say another word because the whole world has become silent and focused on this one moment in her life.

peter takes a long, deep breath. “I just. there’s something I have to tell you.” he wont’ quite meet her eyes, but maybe it’s for the best. her heart’s kind of beating a mile a minute but it’s also lodged in her throat and things are very confusing but she’s also nervous and excited.

and then he looks her straight in the eye and whispers, “i’m spiderman.”

and

she wasn’t expecting this. but. this also feels so great. because she’s waited months for him to trust her with this. for him to feel like she deserves to know his biggest secret in the world. and she can’t help but feel happy about that. even if part of her heart is disappointed.

“I know.” she smiles as his face contorts and he starts, “how did you-”, but she just covers his mouth, quietly whispering, “be quiet, you horrible secret keeper. just dance with me.”

she pulls him closer and rests her chin on his shoulder, hugging him tightly as she continues to sway back and forth with small steps. he pauses for a brief moment before wrapping his arms tightly around her back, deeply sighing.

they stay silent for a few more moments before she smiles, face pressed up against his soft hair, and gently says, “thank you for telling me.”

“I’m glad you know.” he says, tightening his arms and they stay locked in that hug well into the next song that plays. (one sweet day by boyz ii men and mariah carey, if you were wondering.)

they only pull apart when peter nervously and awkwardly announces that he has to pee really badly. she laughs and pushes him toward the restroom. she shakes her head when he trips over his foot near the gym door.

she goes to wait by the fruit punch. (even though it’s sickeningly sweet…she kind of likes it, okay? leave her alone!)

and then flash thompson approaches her. “hey mj.” he says, nonchalant, as he grabs himself a cup of punch.

“flash.” she looks down at him, eyebrow raised.

he rolls his eyes and scoffs. “calm down. I’m only here to invite you and your nerdy friends to an after party at my house. the whole decathlon team is invited.” he more quietly says, “we did a good job this year and I wanted to celebrate one last time before summer.”

and mj nearly smiles at flash thompson, of all people. “yeah, that sounds fun. I’ll ask them.”

and he smiles, walking back to his date. “what did flash want?” ned asks, walking over to her as she sips on her punch.

she glances over at him briefly. “he invited us to a party at his house after prom.”

“really?” ned sounds very excited for a moment, bu then he huffs angrily and says, disappointed, “I don’t have my party hat with me.”

at that, michelle actually laughs. ned looks stunned and a little hurt. “buddy, I’m sure betty is gonna think you look just fine without your party hat. and that’s all that matters tonight.”

he lets out a quick smile, nodding his head once. “you’re so right. this is gonna be so much fun! flash is supposed to have great food.”

“who has great food?” peter asks, walking up to them. he gives mj a smile almost as sweet as the punch and she blushes ferociously.

“flash. he invited us to his party. peter, we have to go.” ned says, grabbing his friend by the shoulder and looking him sternly in the eye. “it’s our junior prom. we need a little fun.”

“well, uh,” peter moves to lock eyes with mj, “do you want to go?”

he shrugs her shoulders and nods. “it could be entertaining. what’s the harm?”

so peter nods quickly, looking back at ned. “sure, why not?”

“yes!” and with that, ned runs off, presumably to go find betty and tell her the exciting news that they, the dork squad™, have been invited to flash thompson’s prom after party.

when she takes her eyes off ned to find peter, he’s smiling, small and adorable as he looks at his shoes. and, well, she’s hoping the after party will hold more pleasant surprises.

#spiderman: homecoming #spiderman homecoming #michelle jones #peter parker #spideychelle #michelle x peter #peter x michelle #mj x peter #peter x mj #ned leeds #sh #otp: i'm just kidding i don't care #i write things #in which michelle deserves all the headcanons and fic #hello all #i am trash #this is like #2600 words #and i didn't even finish writing all of prom day #this covers LITERALLY JUST A FEW HOURS #but #i wanted to post this because it felt like a good stopping place #but i'll write the after party because i am trash #i also realized i can't put these characters through too much turmoil right now #i am weak #i just want them to be happy #also lol guess who has two thumbs and was too lazy to think of a non cliche prom theme #this girl! #anyway #i hope you like this!

[rolandfontana]

As Congress Considers Red Flag Laws, Illinois Begins Enforcing Its Own

With the public clamoring for action to reduce gun violence, Congress may soon create a federal grant program that would offer incentives for states to pass so-called “red flag” laws. Those make it easier to take firearms away from unstable people.

But even if lawmakers reach a rare bipartisan consensus and pass the bill, there’s another tough task just around the corner: Implementing it.

Illinois’ nine-month-old Firearms Restraining Order (FRO) Act offers a case study on the challenges and benefits of implementing a red flag law. The law has been used sparingly so far in Illinois, and advocates are going county by county to introduce it to law enforcement, prosecutors, and judges.

Many central Illinois communities surveyed by WGLT have yet to see a single case where a FRO was obtained since Jan. 1.

There are lessons to be learned from the 16 other states (and the District of Columbia) that previously implemented red flag laws, said Mark Jones, a former ATF agent who is now senior policy advisor for the Illinois Council Against Handgun Violence (ICHV).

“What we’ve learned is that until there’s a state champion to take the law and start moving it forward and let everyone else know how the law works, it generally sits fallow,” Jones said.

For now, Illinois’ champion is ICHV.

“We’re pushing really hard to implement this across the state. We’re not waiting for the Illinois attorney general to pick up the effort, although we’ll be very, very helpful to them in doing whatever they want,” Jones said.

“It’s looking very, very positive for implementation here.”

ICHV has embarked on a statewide educational campaign about the red flag law. In May, Jones led a law enforcement training attended by more than 20 agencies in Lake County in northern Illinois.

A similar training is planned for Champaign County.

Further south, ICHV Downstate Outreach Coordinator Tami Tunnell from Decatur has a tedious but important job: driving all over, county by county, stopping at each circuit clerk’s office to make sure they have the right paperwork and asking if they’ve had any cases yet.

Tunnell said she’d love to see Congress pass something to bolster red flaw laws nationally.

“I’m not gonna change (people’s) minds about whether we should have some sort of gun law,” Tunnell told WGLT. “But if we have these laws, we need to be putting them into effect.

“We need to be making sure we’re protecting people with these laws,”

Tunnell sees parallels between the red flag law and more traditional orders of protection (OPs). She started working on domestic violence prevention in 1986, and back then awareness and usage of OPs were low. Today, they’re commonplace.

“Until that really hits the ground and gets some momentum, we’re gonna be stuck with nobody really knows about it,” Tunnell said. 

First Cases In Illinois

Illinois’ red flag law, signed last year by former Gov. Bruce Rauner, allows family members or police to seek an order of protection to confiscate guns for up to six months from those deemed “an immediate and present danger” to themselves or others.

It’s been used 41 times since Jan. 1, with 25 orders still active, said Illinois State Police spokesperson Mindy Carroll. State Police denied a WGLT records request for additional details about each red flag case.

But anecdotes from around the state show how it’s being used.

Normal Police successfully asked a judge to take away a 74-year-old man’s guns in March after officers became concerned his hallucinations could pose a public safety risk, as WGLT first reported.

The man “admitted that there (was) a possibility that the medication he (was) taking (for a hip injury) is causing him to hallucinate,” officers wrote in their request for the firearm restraining order.

“His hallucinations are a serious threat of physical violence against anyone who might walk by or be lawfully present near his home and poses a clear and imminent risk of serious physical injury to himself, and other persons,” police wrote.

A judge agreed. The man’s guns were taken away until July, when the order expired on its own without a fight.

“It turned out as well as you could hope for,” Normal Police Chief Rick Bleichner said. “It worked how it was intended to work.”

Attorney Helen Ogar represented the 74-year-old man.

“He’s OK with it,” said Ogar. She said the episode “brought (the 74-year-old’s situation) to everyone’s attention” in his family.

“He’s lovely,” Ogar said. “He was just having some health issues. He went on some medications that maybe made him not as sound as he could be. We’re dealing with those as an underlying issue. And we treated it more like a social work issue than a quasi-criminal case.”

“A public health tool–not a criminal tool”

Mark Jones with ICHV praised examples like that.

“It’s a public health tool. It’s not a criminal tool,” Jones said.

Tami Tunnell with ICHV said most of the cases she’s heard about involved family members bringing their concerns to police, who then pursue the restraining order. That’s what happened in a domestic case in Monroe County near St. Louis, Tunnell said.

“It was a wife who went to law enforcement said, ‘He doesn’t hit me. He just pulls out his gun and lays it on the table and looks at me and the kids,’” Tunnell said. “She didn’t feel like she could get a (traditional) order of protection, because she felt he hadn’t done anything.”

The Sangamon County sheriff’s office has used the red flag law twice, according to the county’s circuit clerk’s office. Madison County, also near St. Louis, has had a couple, Tunnell said. Wheaton and Aurora in DuPage County (near Chicago) have done at least six, said ICHV’s Mark Jones.

Other communities haven’t had any cases, including police in Bloomington, Springfield, Urbana, and Champaign County. Ditto in Woodford and Tazewell counties.

The law has already faced at least one court challenge. A Sycamore man sued the DeKalb County sheriff and Sycamore police in federal court, alleging the law violates the Second Amendment.

Illinois Attorney General Kwame Raoul intervened to defend the law, and this month a judge ordered the case dismissed, in part because no one had actually tried to use the law against the Sycamore man yet. He was claiming to be worried that someone could.

We have already successfully defended the law against one court challenge and will continue to do so as the state’s chief legal officer,” said Annie Thompson, a spokesperson for Raoul’s office.

“In addition, the Attorney General is committed to partnering with law enforcement agencies and working with residents throughout the state to help them address gun violence within their communities. Those partnerships will involve assisting agencies as they evaluate and implement the state’s new and existing firearms laws.”

There’s no target number for annual usage once everyone knows about the law, said Jones. Maryland, now fully implemented, averages around 100 per month statewide. California is in the hundreds each month, he said.

“There’s nothing for police like witnessing success,” Jones said. “One of the things we’ll be working on is to show the successful examples that have gone forward and how they’ve gone forward.”

National Movement

Though some argue red flag laws are most useful as a suicide deterrent, the mass shootings in Texas and Ohio last month are what’s driven renewed interest in the concept.

Since the mass shootings, President Trump and some congressional Republicans, including U.S. Rep. Rodney Davis from central Illinois, have signaled support for federal red flag legislation, though next steps in Congress are unclear at this point.

One red flag bill with nearly 200 cosponsors, HR 1236, passed the House Judiciary Committee last week but has not been called for a full House vote. It would provide grants to help state, tribal and local efforts.

Davis, a Republican who represents parts of Bloomington-Normal, said the so-called red flag proposal is the only one with significant bipartisan backing.

“Unfortunately, folks only want to focus on the firearms side of the equation. They don’t want to focus on some other solutions that we want to put in place or some of the solutions we have,” he said.

Strong majorities of Americans from across the political spectrum support red flag laws, also known as extreme risk protection orders (ERPOs), according to a new APM Research Lab/Guns & America/Call To Mind survey.

Overall, 77 percent of Americans surveyed support family-initiated ERPOs, and 70 percent support them when initiated by law enforcement, according to the survey, which was conducted before the recent Texas and Ohio shootings.

There is broad support among Republicans and gun owners for these types of laws, the poll found.

Ryan Denham, Digital Content Director for WGLT, is a 2019 John Jay/H.F. Guggenheim Justice Reporting Fellow. This slightly edited version of his reporting is crossposted with permission. NPR’s Leigh Paterson and IPR’s Mary Hansen contributed to the story. To hear the full version, please click here.

As Congress Considers Red Flag Laws, Illinois Begins Enforcing Its Own syndicated from https://immigrationattorneyto.wordpress.com/

[plms-hockey]

Leafs @ Penguins - Game 30 - Dec.9.17

KEY NARRATIVES

Toronto Maple Leafs ( 18-10-1) vs Pittsburgh Penguins (16-11-3)

Tonight the Leafs will get their first chance of the season to face the reigning Stanley Cup Champions. I'd be remiss if I didn't disclose the soft spot I have for the Penguins. As a relatively new hockey fan, Pittsburgh has been dominant since the first time someone explained what a line change was to me. Evgeni Malkin was the first player I could pick out in a swarm of skaters just by the way he moved. Love them or hate them, there was no better introduction to the sport than Penguins Hockey.

The person who got me into hockey analytics was a diehard Penguins fan. What I'm really saying is that I know someone much more qualified than myself to tell you exactly how Pittsburgh is doing after consecutive Championship runs and almost three years of so much hockey that even Sidney Crosby may have trouble swallowing it:

3 Storylines in 3 Minutes

1. The Stanley Cup Hangover is Real and the Metro Sucks

As we approach the halfway mark of the season, the Pens are sitting on a respectable record of 16-11-3. These 35 points are good enough for… the second wild-card spot in the Eastern Conference.

The disparity between the divisions is at fault for this. As you can see below, by points, both the Penguins and the Islanders would be chasing second place if they were in the Atlantic.

Basically, the Metro is a clusterf*ck.

The Pens did not do themselves any favors with a few disastrous early season showings (the 10-1 loss to CHI, 7-1 loss to TBL and 7-1 to WPG all spring to mind). While the lopsidedness of these blowouts can be blamed in part on the baffling offseason acquisition of Antti Niemi for a backup goalie, the Pens have had noticeably slow starts and lackadaisical, lopsided possession for extended stretches that was only remedied by well-timed power play goals (sound familiar, Leafs fans?).

Nevertheless, they persisted. And the Pens are finally starting to look more like themselves.

2. Phillip Joseph Kessel, Jr. Is A Back-To-Back Stanley Champion…

…and also the most consistently excellent Pens’ player by a country mile (1.6 country kilometers).

By now, the Kessel trade has been as picked over as the cookie tray at Christmas dinner (seriously, Aunt Mary, no one is going to eat your peanut butter-quinoa balls). The general consensus is that this trade is a rare win-win-win: the Pens got an elite scorer and beloved, awkward meme as a face of the franchise; the Leafs got some exciting young prospects and the first round pick that enabled them to trade for franchise goalie Freddie Andersen; and the city of Toronto got rid of the locus of Steve Simmons’ misguided, hot dog-inspired rage.

This is now the seventh time that Phil has faced his former team, in which Pens have gone 3-3-1. His first points against the Leafs since the trade (1G, 1A), poetically, came in the second-to-last season Leafs’ home game that clinched the Leafs’ playoff spot.

Quietly, Phil the Thrill has been having what is shaping up to be a career season. After slow and inconsistent starts from fellow stars Sid, Geno, and Kris Letang, Phil has been racking up points and is currently at in eighth league-wide points with 35 (14G [4PPG], 21A); he leads the team ahead of Sid’s 31 points (12G,19A) and Geno’s 26 (8G, 18A).

With 3 goals in the last 3 games, Phil has been on a tear. With apologies to John Keats, a thing of beauty is a joy forever; a Phil in the prime of his powers is definitely a beautiful thing.

3. It’s that time of year…when the Penguins start succumbing to injuries

Ahh, December, full of holiday cheer, time with family and loved ones, and the complete and utter collapse of a healthy Pens’ core.

Matt Murray has been week to week on IR since the 11/27 Flyers game, since Jakub Voracek lost an edge and awkwardly pushed Murray’s right leg into the goal post. Justin Schultz was placed on IR with a lower-body injury after a collision with Rick Nash in the 12/6 Rangers game. Schultz has arguably been the Pens’ most consistent defenseman; while the Pens were able to win a Cup last year without their number one defenseman Kris Letang, his return has been…somewhat rockier. In Schultz’s stead, the Pens have called up a freed Frankie Corrado from the WBS Baby Pens, although he is not projected to make the lineup.

Even with the injuries, there are more than enough storylines to keep this game interesting: Speed Team v. Speed Team. Superstar Sidney Crosby v. emerging superstar Auston Matthews. Former Leafs Phil Kessel and Matt Hunwick v. former Pen Ron Hainsey.

This should be a fun one, yinz!

--Laura (@werewolfbrmtzvh)

In the Leafs camp, the lineup remains infuriatingly unchanged. Polak is still holding Carrick's spot and Willy is still in the doghouse after his winning shootout goal against the Flames on Wednesday. Though, I suppose it hasn't been Nylander's offensive play that's been earning him Babcock's ire. While the whole team made some serious mistakes against Calgary, Willy definitely had a couple of slip-ups that didn't earn him any love from a coach with high defensive standards like Babcock.

Implying less trouble in paradise, this lineup (minus Polak's presence ever) does work well on the road and against teams facing depth troubles like the Penguins are this year. If he's on his game, Willy should be able to prove he can at least help keep Pittsburgh's already offensively struggling bottom six off the board.

Some Key Numbers

87 - Sidney Crosby - Center - Captain 71 - Evgeni Malkin - Center 81 - Phil Kessel - Right Wing 58 - Kris Letang - Defenseman

THE HIGHLIGHTS

THE POST GAMEHappy Sunday, everyone. Today's trivia question is as follows: Who is really good at hockey?Sidney Crosby is really good at hockey. Evgeni Malkin and Phil Kessel can come, too. And damn if Coach Sullivan wasn't trying to give them every opportunity to exercise those skills. Not one of those players was on the ice for less than 22 minutes. Malkin was out for 24.1 minutes which was more than every single Leafs player, including the defensemen, except for constant penalty killer Nikita Zaitsev who had nearly 26 minutes of ice time (Babcock - what are you doing??).Kessel and Malkin were productive in this game but were defensively shakey which put them in a different category than their Captain last night. Simply put, nobody could touch Crosby, even though he only got on the board once. He ended the night with a 5v5 CF% of 96.30. When he was out with the Matthews line, for around 10 minutes of this game, the Leafs were outshot 18-0.While this does speak to Crosby continuing his dominance through his thirties, I don't think this was a pure comparison or evaluation of Auston's current abilities. He's looked a bit off since his injury but, from nothing more than my own speculation, I'm wondering if he might be sick instead of injured. He was out of practice a while back with a "cold" but this is reminding me a lot of when Marner's production dropped off at the end of last year and we later found out he had mono.But who knows. We can only hope he bounces back soon.Unfortunately for the Penguins, Crosby's dominance didn't reflect on the rest of the roster. It was almost as if there were multiple teams playing mini-games of hockey throughout the evening. Below is a matchup chart from HockeyViz.com. Explained fully in this post game, it shows how much time players spent facing opposing skaters, and then breaks down the shot share in each matchup.

Basically, the Crosby line dominated, mostly against the Kadri and Matthews lines. The Malkin line fought head to head with Kadri and Matthews, and then Marner, Bozak, and JvR cleaned house against Penguins depth (and notably the Malkin line when they were out together).Also - not particularly important, but I find it hilarious that Babcock didn't let Polak touch the ice at 5v5 against Crosby.The shot share didn't look good for the Leafs in this one, but it's a good example of a game where you can't judge a game on shots or attempt share in a vacuum because the scoring effects were too aggressive. The Leafs spent only 4 minutes and 55 seconds without a two-goal lead in this game, scoring two goals in the first two minutes of the game. When teams have that kind of lead they always play more conservatively which usually results in significantly fewer shot attempts made as they avoid risky plays.The Leafs ended the night with a CF% of 42.55 at 5v5 which I'm actually comfortable with considering the above. What's surprising is, once again, the Leafs dominated in Expected Goals For. While making significantly fewer attempts on net, the Leafs had a 5v5 xGF% of 74.53. They had about three-fourths of the expected goal share, and once again the shot maps show why. I feel like I've used these in every post-game recently, but I'll quit talking about this when I stop being fascinated by it.

What's interesting about the heat right in front of the net is that it doesn't seem to be one or two skaters who are lighting a fire there and skewing numbers. All three of Toronto's scoring lines have names in this pile more than once, which shows this is a strategic decision and something the whole team has practiced. While there have been quotes from the team that confirm this, it's nice to see it's not just a solid plan, but that they're executing on it as well.On another good note, Mitch Marner and the Bozak line is back. JvR had a goal, Bozak had two and assist, and the Marner had three assists. The Mouse needed a good night like this, as bad luck can often be compounding as confidence gets shaken -- especially for a player who relies on creative plays like Marner. With his poor primary assist luck shaken, now we just have to wait for some goals to start coming, too.Speaking of, while Marner is a known playmaker (passer), there's often call for him to shoot more. While I don't disagree entirely, I think it's slightly overblown and the fact that he only has two goals on the season is due to his unsustainably low shooting percentage, not his shot count. Marner currently has a team worst shooting percentage of 3.4%. League average is currently 9.3, and Mitch should probably be shooting even a little above that. And while he should shoot a bit more, he's actually still shot the seventh most of any Leaf.Finally, while I won't be discussing this much today, I'd be remiss if I didn't note that William Nylander had a career-low 8.7 minutes of ice time last night. It's one thing to put a skilled, young guy on the fourth line to get him going and then play him as needed on other lines and on special teams.This... is not that -- and I'll have a lot more to say about it if Babcock doesn't do something about it tonight against Edmonton. Statistics and visuals courtesy of HockeyViz.com, NaturalStatTrick.com, Corsica.Hockey, Hockey-reference. com, and Hockeystats.ca.

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