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netherfeildren · 3 months

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Honey, Stomach, Mine ; 1. Genus: Tragedy

Series Masterlist ; Part 2.

Pairing: Joel Miller x F!Reader

Summary: Existence is a needful thing. Choice is fickle, nature inescapable. Run to the end of the world, Joel, all those things will still find you.

She'll still come for you.

-OR-

the A/B/O outbreak AU

Rating: Explicit 18+

Content Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics; Dystopian Society; Outbreak not Cordyceps AU; Light Angst; Slow Burn; Shocking Considering the Implications of Me and This Trope but Alas; Biologically Assigned Soulmates; Power Dynamics; Topping From the Bottom; Government Controlled Reproduction; Segregation of the Designations; Institutionalized Sexism; Vaguely Handmaidien Undertones; Incredibly Soft Despite the Tags; Be Not Afraid, Dear Reader!; Yearning; Emotional Hurt/Comfort; Competence Kink; Alpha Joel; Omega MC; Very Soft Joel; Older and Jaded Alpha; Young and Needy Omega; Age Gap; Size Difference; Size Kink

A/N: I've found there is an absolutely shocking lack of A/B/O in this fandom, and this is my contribution to begin rectifying that. I swear that despite the way the tags read, this is entirely and sickeningly sweet soft, comfort, caretaking fic.

Share thoughts, please. It's sort of a different one.

Word Count: 6.3K

Read on AO3

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Genus : Tragedy

To a one Mr. Joel Miller,

500 Sheahan Road

Clallam Bay, WA 98326

United States

We are writing to inform you that as of January 8th, 2015 there remain two weeks until your designated omega’s twenty second birthday, and a year since she has come of age. We have made several attempts to contact you with no response. As mandated by the federal government, you must collect her by January 22nd, 2015 or she will be distributed to another individual of the designation alpha who would be willing to accommodate her.

The omega’s evaluations are all up to date, and she has displayed pristine results in both health and behavioral tests. It is estimated that her first heat will occur soon, and we strongly encourage you to collect before the fever starts and our facility is forced to place her with another willing alpha that may see the process through. As she is part of the Federal Alpha/Omega Pairing Program, and is biologically paired to an alpha already, that being you, if not collected she would be placed in the bidding pool and distributed to the highest offer.

Again, we strongly encourage you to contact our facility with a response on your decision as soon as possible so that we may prepare the omega. We would like to remind you that these creatures are delicate, and unexpected changes to their habitats and surroundings cause high levels of distress. It is of the utmost importance that we proceed in accordance with the omega’s nature.

Enclosed is a brief note from your omega that she has requested to attach:

Dear sir,

I hope that you are well. I have been told that you have not decided if you will come for me, but I ask that you please do. I have been waiting, but they have told me I cannot wait anymore, and I do not know what will happen to me if you don’t come. I promise that I’ll be good if you do.

And at the bottom, in a pristine and swirly pen, and kindly, her signature, there for him to see. The name of the woman, or girl, who seems to have taken all of Joel’s choices from him. He follows the letters with the nail of his thumb, scratching at the ink as if he could make it disappear, make the reality of this poor thing out there in the world waiting for him, disappear.

At the outbreak of the designations, twelve years ago, there had been mass hysteria, mass chaos, a terrible uncertainty of how the world could continue on, segregated into biological designations as it had suddenly become. Thought to be a product of the dwindling population rates, some whispered a government experiment gone awry, a freak genetic mutation had begun to appear within the biological markers of certain people.

Designations: Alpha, Beta, Omega.

It was not that society had unfolded, lost sight of itself, it was more so that from one day to the next, a new and unknown sort of hierarchy had been established, those that were, those that were not. Those that could live their lives as they’d always done, unruled by their biological urges, and those now marked as something new and different and set by a different sort of mandates.

Joel had been one of these people.

The designations had become controlled, weaponized, systemized, almost immediately. Almost. Before the government had mobilized and taken stock and hold of the situation, there had been a momentary lapse of order. Chaos wearing the names and faces of the people he’d once known, people that should have been safe or protected, protective. The true nature of the dynamics were quickly revealed. Obvious: an unmated alpha in need of an omega was a volatile thing, quick to aggression, hungry for violence. Less so: an omega, once thought self sufficient, independent, autonomous, was found to be at times fragile, vulnerable, full of necessity. Both connected by that string of desperation that could only be soothed in a pairing of the two. The desperate drama of being no longer only yourself.

It should have been an obvious thing, the mutation, a byproduct of the dwindling population levels, reproduction rates, was in service of something that would correct this misdirection of nature. Alphas and omegas were, are, idealized pairings for one another in terms of reproduction, in terms of biological pairings. It should have been obvious that this would be wielded as a means of control. It should have been obvious that this was an untenable situation that would cast people into roles that left no choice for autonomy, for freedom.

It should have been obvious to Joel, who almost immediately, and even though he had been well into adulthood, a father to a young daughter, presented as an alpha, growing pains once again this late into his life. It should have been obvious that this was a situation that should have necessitated greater care, vigilance, protection. After all, this was the role of an alpha. He should have listened to this new nature of his that was suddenly, demandingly, presenting itself, acted quicker, stronger, with more wisdom. But he’d failed, he’d continued to fail for years to come after that terrible night when the world had turned back to its base nature in a hedonistic attempt for the preservation of humanity.

Alphas were immediately feared, ostracized, and above all else, obvious. A designation was not a thing a person could hide, especially not an alpha, the truth of their nature. Many were gunned down in the streets at the start, imprisoned, experimented on and sold, debased and tortured. They’d been caught, him and Sarah, separated from Tommy trying to escape the madness. She had, in her innocence and without designation, still only herself, still only his little girl, been caught in the crossfire of a world's desire to tame or trap something it could not understand.

Joel had, in many and the worst of ways, been caught in the crossfire too.

With time, years and the sort of suffering that can only be forced upon anything that is different or out of the norm, a system had been created. Government mandated programs, laws, registries that kept track of the designations. A hierarchy in which those that were essentially and biologically considered stronger than what a normal human should be, were ostracized, exiled, denigrated, muzzled, and those that would be considered weakest, left without any voice at all, without freedom either.

The Federal Alpha/Omega Pairing Program had been established for the continued preservation and furthering of reproductive rates. A registry was created in which all those with the designation either alpha or omega had to present themselves on, biological markers determined, all choices stripped. The program served as a match making machine, when two biological markers presented themselves as compatible, as mates of one another, an omega was assigned to an alpha for keeping. To do with as they’d see fit.

He had gotten word of her only last year. Twelve years of solitude, of nothing, of running from a girl with green eyes he’d not been able to protect and the reality of himself he detested, the what and why of who he was. He’d left Austin, wandered and hidden and groveled in the dirt like a worm until he’d finally found a quiet place to settle. A place alone, undisturbed. And for so long, he’d not been happy, surely, but he had been. Joel had been.

He looks down at the letter in his hand, dragging his thumbnail over the swoop and slope of her signature once again. This was a person who, as mandated by law or biology or fucking whatever, had been deemed as his. His other half, mate, ball and chain. The terrible reminder of what he really was and could not escape, in the form and shape of his perfect opposite.

Last year, when he’d gotten word of her existence, that she’d reached the age of twenty one and was now ready and available for his retrieving, he’d balled up the letter and thrown it with such weightless force into the fireplace in his living room that the air filled wad of paper had fallen limp and nothingful just shy of the flames, rolling in the ashes and dust, coating the reality of this imposed, undesired fate in dark soot. He’d been so angry he’d gone out and howled at the moon like the beast the world would have themselves believe he truly was.

He did not want to be an alpha. He did not want an omega. He did not want to live off the coast of Clallam Bay alone in this house he’d built with his bare hands because he had no other use of them now, no other function or purpose or meaning. He did not want it to be now, he wanted it to be twelve years ago. He wanted to still be a father.

He did not want to be an alpha.

He did not want an omega.

He crumples the letter in his fist, looking out at the bay over the edge of the cliffs from where the cabin is perched. From his spot on the deck he can see as far out as the sea allows, sight stopping suddenly as if the edge of the world had dropped off a ledge. Sometimes he longed, so, so badly, to go find that edge, to drop off it as well. He had only tried once. Never again. The grizzle of scar tissue at his temple, a testament to yet another one of his failures.

The first summons had come two weeks before her twenty-first birthday, and he’d laughed, after the anger, he’d laughed. A girl-woman of only twenty one years, deemed of age, for the role the government or God had deemed her ready for, served up on a platter to him for his own ravaging. For the correction of what nature told was an anomaly that only their coming together could solve. It was sick, disgusting. He wanted no part of it. And so, despite the knowledge that this poor thing was out there, in some government facility, places they took omegas, many orphans, but also, oftentimes separating them from their families for so called safe keeping, just another word for kidnapping. Rearing and breeding and no choices, no choices for any of them ever.

He’d ignored it, turned a blind eye and a revolted heart away from it all, and shirked the supposed responsibilities he owed this omega who he knew nothing about, who knew nothing about him. But nature is, after all, a terrible and inescapable thing. And not even so much the nature of his designation, although that did, unfailingly, play a part in his demise, surely, but the nature of his character, of Joel’s heart, that was the true heavy player. He was not the sort of man who could turn away from someone who’d rely on him, who’d need him. A responsibility. That was, he convinced himself, all he should or could see her as. And for a year there’d been a sort of tugging of a string from behind his navel, an umbilical cord connecting him to his ignored fate. He hated it all. He wanted nothing to do with any of it. He wanted to rot in his aloneness and misery and bitterness, fester in the fear that lived around him from the world. It’s why he’d come here, it’s why he’d exiled himself. Balanced on the tightrope border between the Salish Sea and the Makah Reservation on this high and pristine cliffside cut from the crust of the earth; he was left entirely alone, at peace with only his own chaotic demons to torment him. He wanted it this way, he wanted this; please, please, he’d already given away so much, lost so much of himself. Should he also be forced into this too? To sacrifice the terrible peace of his solitude to save this poor creature that was being forced on him. He wanted to say no, that he didn’t give a fuck, that what would happen to her could, it was no business of his. But those words… another willing alpha, bidding pool, highest offer… they made him see, not even red, black, black and devastating anger or rage or something horrible and base, and what could only be a product of mother nature railing against him for ignoring what he truly was. Something that whispered terrible words of mine, mine, fucking mine. A hiss he did not recognize, did not want to admit he recognized.

He was old, weathered and beaten and past his prime. Unmated. At the end of his line and unmated and purposeless, and his bones were tired, but itching and clamoring within the confines of his skin that this was wrong, that he was wrong, and that he needed to right this immediately.

That she’s waiting, and dear sir, I do not know what will become of me if you do not come. I promise that I’ll be good if you do.

And so Joel goes to her because he knows she is waiting, because fate or purpose or nature is not a thing to be ignored forever.

“It’s her birthday today,” the caretaker says, voice ascetic and cold and direct. Not a voice, Joel thinks, for soft things; cadence that has his teeth on edge, hackles raised. “You’ve arrived just in time. She’s been asking for you, and we’d just set her name in the pool, ready to release for auction tomorrow.” That black rage muddies the corners of his vision, and he focuses on the cold shock of the blank white hallway they’re making their way down. Hospital-like, barren and hard, this place, facility, prison, they keep them in, the omegas in the program. He feels slightly sick, uninhibitedly angry as if his teeth would fall out of his skull, as if he could throw himself to the ground as a child throws a fit, spew his anger for the world to see how much he does not want this, how vehemently he’s opposed to it all.

“She may seem young and small, but she’s twenty two now. She’s ready, and she’ll take it as you wish. It’s what she was made for.”

Joel seriously considers, just for a moment, killing the cretinous little man beside him. Take it, he says as if he has any right to speak of you taking anything that Joel would give you, as if it’s any of his business, anything he could ever understand if the beta stench oozing off of him is any indication. He hums nothing more than a grunt of acknowledgement. If he parts his teeth he’ll take out a chunk of flesh. He should behave, there are easily frightened things nearby.

White doors with a small circular window at the center line the hall on either side, endlessly down the length of the seemingly endless corridor. The caretaker, white scrubs, pristine like the rest of everything here, and Joel feels suddenly huge and bestial and brutish, marring and dirtying this place that is supposed to be of peace and quiet for the fragile things locked inside.

A terrible place that makes him desolately depressed. You’ve been here so long, and he had not come, and it’s all just one more tally of failure on his rap sheet.

When they finally stop before a singular door, the number fourteen emblazoned in large black, bold print just beneath the small viewing window, Joel suddenly feels– he can’t say for certain, he doesn’t know, or doesn't want to acknowledge the truth of the voices and sounds ringing in his ears, but he knows, recognizes it for the sound of the moment Sarah died all those years ago. His past and present suddenly clashing to meet here in this antiseptic white void, before the door to this fate that’s clamored in quiet waiting for exactly a year today. The sound of her voice, calling his name, saying it hurts, Tommy, his shouts ringing loud and then ebbing soft and as lifeless as she was while the reality of what they were living came to pass before Joel too, could realize. He’d left too, his brother, ran from the truth of Joel at the first easy opportunity. And she’s just there, her voice and her eyes and the feel of her is just there in his mind, on the tip of the tongue of his memory, and then the man opens the door and then there you are.

He feels worse now, hulking, deformed, malformed like he was born wrong. “I’ll give you a moment,” the man says low, that cold voice monotone and almost too quiet to bear now. Joel feels he needs something loud and shocking. He fears he won’t fit through the door. “It’s better if you meet for the first time without distractions. She knows you’re coming.”

He thinks he asks if you’re sleeping, he can’t be sure, but he feels the vibrations of his throat work, his jaw move as if it’d come unhinged, his tongue swollen in his mouth, gums fat and painful, full of bile and terrible memories, and he is a badly made thing in need of some goodness in this moment. And then a shift of the small lump beneath the blankets, the reality of the moment snaps into focus, he steps inside the white box cage you’re kept in. The door shuts behind him, and then it is only him, the thing he would not be, and you, the thing he would not want.

He doesn’t decide it until he finally peers into your eyes, that he can’t, will not, keep you.

Wide, luminous and wet, but not afraid, wholly curious, peering up at him from above the edge of a thick wool blanket. Something drab and gray and stiff looking that immediately sets him on edge, brings that anger back, just the simple sight of the blanket. The two of you stare at each other in silence, the weight of that thing that tells of what you are, sitting heavy between the two of you as he looks down at you from his great height, presence that should be intimidating and cowing, looming over your prone and small form on the bed. But despite his stance, something swelling within him causing him to puff up like an angry dog and want to bear his teeth at you, despite the curtain of tears in your eyes, there’s nothing of the stench of fear.

He shuts his eyes to the sight of you, huffing long and bullish through his nose, mistake, the scent of you, God, help me, and he listens to the rustle and shift of the blankets, opens his eyes to see a little nose peeking out from beneath the gray, drab thing to sniff primly at the air he’s now filling with his presence.

Soft and warm and woman, the smell of a cunt that belongs to him. That’s what it is at its basest. More complexly: vanilla, bergamot, juniper berries, sweat and fever and salt. Taking a plunge off the cliffside, bypassing the sharp teeth of rocks that would kill you, waiting for the dark ice shock of sea and finding nothing but molten life. This is what you smell like.

Worst of all, there is something in you that smells of him. His, yes, but not what he means, not his, him. Something that smells of recognition, like the two of you are the same.

Something chained inside of him rattles at the bars of its cage, desperate to be let out and quenched.

He steps back, frightened at your movement, at the reality of what the two of you are, so obvious here in this cage, at your perking up, your recognition of who and what he is, what he’s come for. You don’t speak, but you tell him. You wriggle beneath the covers, shimmying to turn and face him more fully, still clutching the blanket up high over your mouth, still covering half of your face, and he wants to bark at you to let him see, that he needs to see, but he grinds his teeth together. Molars going to dust down his throat, muscle wrapped around his mandible strung so tight he fears the fibers of it might burst and pop.

You settle on your side facing him now, and then something to beguile him, to bring him to his knees muzzled and obedient and calm, the sweetest, sultry little crooning cry. Something provoking, alluring, something to beckon him to you in surrender and acceptance and welcome, come from your chest up your throat to his ears. He jerks back at the sound, your big eyes still expectant and wet but demanding now. I am here waiting for you. I have been here waiting for you. Come now. He steps back to your bedside, a too small, too stiff metal railed cot he’s going to wrap around that fucking guard, caretaker, idiot, whatever he is when he comes back, falls to his knees, and your little fingers peek out and up and over the edge of the blanket now. And you surprise him doubly, tenfold, more than he can comprehend – but he already decided he will not keep you, he already made up his mind – when you say: “You came. You remembered me.”

He could never have forgotten.

A low hum, a sound to make your eyelids flutter and your legs shift beneath the heavily draped blankets. “Today’s your birthday, sweetheart, is it? Would you like to come home with me as your gift?”

He could never have forgotten.

The house that the large man who you’d waited your whole life and then a year for, brings you to – and you can��t be entirely sure, for you’ve so little experience or knowledge – but from what you can think you’re feeling now, from what you can decide, is lovely.

He had taken you in a car, a truck, you like the sound of the word, —ck, —ck, —ck, and driven a long while, through the big city which you’d seen little of, between forest and beside sea, and then finally up a long and winding road and more forest, more trees and green than you’d ever seen in your entire life, until you’d come to a cliffside, the backyard a drop off of air and rock and endless dark water, and a small house perched just there at the edge. Wooden slats, weather beaten and salt lashed, a copper sloped roof, and two pert chimneys, despite the not large area of the house, cabin. It looks, very much, as if it had grown straight from the cliff rock, sprouted by the forest, strong bones that spoke resolutely of remaining where they were no matter how hard the wind howled.

“How did it get here?” You ask the man, alpha, who’s name is Joel who has finally come for you after a life and a year of waiting.

“I made it,” and his voice is rough and demanding of attention, demanding of you, even if you don’t know, although, you do understand, what it is he’s demanding.

And you think, yes, of course. It looks a little, a lot, like him. Obvious, that it came from him.

It would be easy to think that you’re nothing but young and stupid and untried. Just a little omega kept in a cage. But you feel, after this life, not life, of being you and the thing you are, that you’re none of those things despite it all. You had lived, you had been out in the world at one time, even if briefly, even if only as a child, green and inexperienced and innocent, and although you still remain all those things, you had been out there at one point. You had never had a mother or a father, dead when you were an infant, killed in the outbreak, but you had lived with your aunt, your mother’s, many years older, sister, until you’d been ten years old. So you see, and he should see too, this man now before you, this alpha, that you were untried and inexperienced and young compared to him, but you’d had a decade of real life, even if it was the life of a child, even if afterwards it was a not life, but the before, that counted very, very much to you and so deserved respect and acknowledgement. And he should see that, although you do not know, you do understand.

After your aunt had died, and they’d taken you, first to the orphanage, and then to the place for omegas, after you’d started to mature and develop, perhaps that real life had ended. Or been put on hold, waiting for him, this alpha who seems, for all intents and purposes and from what you can gather from his sullen silence and dark looks, nothing like pleased at your presence here now. But then there was the: today’s your birthday, sweetheart, is it? And yes, yes it is your birthday.

It’s your birthday, and you’re free. And yes, you’d lived the not life in the white box for so long, and yes, you are, in fractions, so afraid and knowing so little of the world, but you do know that you want to live and to see the sky.

You want to see the sky every single day.

His big clunking truck rolls to a slow stop before the house, a wide deck wrapping around the entire boxed thing of it, and he starts to move, unclipping his belt, grabbing the bag he’d brought with him stuffed with his clothes he’d promptly tucked and folded you into when he’d shuffled you into the cabin of his truck, and you’d been all thank you, sir, to which he’d given a shake of his head, only Joel. Only Joel. No other words, no other directions, only his hands pulling your strings like a puppet. You had accepted it for the chance to feel his touch, to familiarize yourself with the closeness of him.

You want to know things. You want to know him.

He’d barely said a word the entire drive here, but you could be patient, and they’d prepared you for this, after all. They’d prepared you long and well and told you all they thought you’d need to know. So you find yourself, and not at all shockingly, as you’d waited so long for this, for him, for freedom and the sky, and look, now there’s even sea too, not even a little bit afraid, only anticipatory in bated breath, stuttering heart, excitement.

You had never seen the sea before, and you want to know things. You want to know him.

He jumps heavy and thudding form the truck, and you start to shift, something suddenly frantic and clawing rolling in your chest when you realize he’s leaving the confines of the small space the two of you had found yourselves encased in together, the warm heat from the vents blowing his smell, his smell, all around you. You’d never encountered anything like it before. Salted vetiver and warm cardamom, something sweet and musked and heavy like what your fingers taste like after you’ve pet long and needy at that soft wet place between your legs when the hurt was so tight you felt nothing would sate it. It’s a scent that you think would devastate to have taken away now that you’ve tasted it. And it’s everywhere as the two of you’d sat in his staunchly imposed silence on the truck ride to this place he was bringing you to, his home at what seems like the end of the world. It’s in your nose and down your throat, heavy and cloying and sweet on your tongue, wrapping around your waist and covering your skin and your hands so that you’d even pressed your palms entirely over your face and rubbed yourself like a cat, coating yourself in him.

The door slams, bringing you out of his scent induced reverie and back to the present, and you scramble to undo your buckle too, even though when he’d clipped it for you he’d very sternly said to not take it off, desperate to follow him wherever he’d go. But you realize quickly he’s coming around the front of the truck to your door, and then he’s there pulling it open and letting in a biting gust of wind come off the sea and up the cliffside to slash you across the face with its icy rancor. You shiver, teeth clattering and chattering in your mouth, trying to gather the blankets he’d cocooned you in, his too big, so soft clothes, more tightly around yourself, and find your feet.

He gives a rough but soothing noise, and easy as anything, plucks you up and out of the seat and into his arms, kicking the door closed behind him as he goes. Into his arms. You hold yourself stiff and wide eyed, chewing on the tips of your frozen cold fingers, and staring at him this closely, it’s shocking. Large, had been the first thing. Tall and broad and thick the way they’d said alphas are. This you had expected. The rest, you had not. The eyes, you think, more than anything. His eyes, a strange mix of hazel and brown, but dark. Eyes, that even in your greenness, you can recognize as sad and angry. And the creases at the corners, between his brows, the gray threaded through the lush, dark curls and at the corners of the hair along his jaw. He looks like he would be someone’s father. The patch of bare skin, heart shaped, amongst the whiskers. He’s beautiful, and unthinkingly, or perhaps entirely intentional, you stick out one of your saliva soaked fingers and poke him gently there, only a small prod, to feel what the heart feels like. His gait stops instantly, that permanent frown he’d worn since you’d first laid eyes on him, deepening. “Don’t do that,” he gruffs, continuing his steps up the porch now, the dark, heavy boots you’d noted as he’d taken you from the facility falling thunk, thunk on the wooden boards beneath. He’d not given you shoes of your own. And at his tone, the grumpy look, you have the inexplicable urge to laugh. To laugh at him. Surly, you want to tease, but swallow it, itchy fingertips back into the warmth of your mouth to stop yourself from touching again.

Another gust blows against the two of you as he somehow transfers you, cradled into only one arm, to pull the jingle of keys from his pocket, and you’re jarred with painful shivers, huddling closer into the unbelievably broad expanse of his chest, the unbelievably steaming warm slab. At the touch of your cheek against his collarbone you realize all he’s wearing is a simple, green flannel, no coat, nothing warm. “Aren’t you cold?” It seems suddenly, supremely important you ask, head shooting back up. He peers down his nose at you, finally getting the door open, and his eyes are a very peculiar sort of dark, you cock your head at him, a very strange sort of creature this man is, who’s come to collect you, who you’d waited all your life and a year for.

“I’m fine,” he says.

You don’t believe him.

He sets you down on a large, dark leather sofa, chocolate, the hide smooth and worn and lived in. The rest of the house, not only a house, also a home, for it’s obvious in the way of his things, the way they’re arranged and fixed and the way they too live here, not only exist here. I’ll be like that too, you think. It’s all comfortable, it’s all warm, like a den and a place to relax and be protected, juxtaposed by the sight beyond the large windows, nothing but dark, violent sea as you’ve never before seen.

He really had found a perch at the edge of the world, brought you here to perch as well.

There’s a large fireplace, inlaid with large slabs of dark stone and thick beams of wood, and yes, this too is also obvious in a peculiar and particular way. The house very much looks like it was made by the hands of a single man in some way that you cannot specifically say, but can obviously see the truth of. He made this house, and then he came for you and now he’s brought you here, and you feel, suddenly, so pleased and warm and right. Everything feels so, so right. You sigh dreamily, suffused at once with a tight, deep heat at the pit of your belly, the scent of him everywhere, bubbles floating up from the bottom of you and seeming to pop out your ears. You lean back into the deep couch, wiggling this way and that, rubbing your bottom into the soft cushions to snuggle up, bringing the neck of his sweater he’d put you in up to your nose to breathe deep and long.

He’s moving around, arranging things this way and that, a thick log in the slumbering coals, a pillow here, another blanket atop you, not looking at you, setting a wide berth once he’s settled the throw, not talking to you. It’s fine, let him do as he pleases and needs, you’ll sit here and watch. You can tell he doesn’t like to talk, that words cost him something, and you know so little, but you understand this. Words do cost something, truths, the truth of your before life and your not life. The truth of those realities cost. So, yes, you understand, and he doesn’t have to talk if he doesn’t want to yet. And looking at him, you realize that everything inside of you feels soft and bruised and little. And yet, despite all that, ready, in want and need of him. Ready to be big.

Joel.

You must say the word out loud, his name, for he stops and finally turns to face you. There is something vibrational within him. Different. You’ve never seen a creature as such. You’d never seen an alpha before, not since you’d presented, you’ve never been around one. The caretakers were all always betas, people who would not be affected by the omega’s presence and fluctuations.

He swallows once, twice, twitches and jerks and heaves a big sigh. He’s so full of energy as you, suddenly, in opposition, feel so sleepy and drowsy and ready to close your eyes and only feel warm and relaxed. You like his house, you might love it, even.

Your eyelids droop low, slow blinks, and you watch his face fold into a frown. You want to laugh, he does that so much. They’d said that alphas could have big tempers, that they could be brash and aggressive and loud, but that the omega would naturally temper that. You think it may be true because as you watch him through the weave of your lashes, his frown deepening the longer he stares at you slowly drowsing on his couch which you hope he’ll never make you move from, the jitters and the shakes and the trembling that he’d seemed, just a moment ago, to be so full of, begin to quietly abate.

He takes a step toward you, another and another until his shins meet the edge of the sofa, and you snuggle deeper into the cushions, making yourself into as little a ball as possible, so full of sleepiness.

“How do you feel?”

“I like your house so much,” you slur, head drooping, lashes drooping.

He clicks his tongue, makes that rumbly noise you think is an alpha thing because it has your eyes suddenly clicking open, sleep haze clearing momentarily so that you can look up at him again, and he’s looking at you so peculiarly. You scrunch your nose up at him, there’s no need to look at you so, you’re only an omega, only a little tired, nothing to stare at so strangely.

“I’m–” he clears his throat, makes that rumble, growl, huff sound again, “I’m glad you like it. I wanted you to be comfortable while you’re here.”

And oh, he’s so nice, you tell him, and, “I am. I’m so comfortable.” You melt further into the couch, and he crouches down to peer at you more directly, pulling a soft pillow from the opposite end and tucking it under your head, the large, rough cup of his paw cradling your skull, big fingers weaving through your hair. He arranges you so gently, like he’d take care of you. Like you’re here, finally, finally, you’re here to be taken care of.

It’s what they’d said would happen, and you’d waited so long. You’d waited too long to be let out of the white box, for him to come, to see the sky. And now there was so much; of him, of the house, of the sky, of your whole life and the sea.

You nuzzle your head into his big hand, the heat of it searing your scalp, your ear tucked into his palm. “Brave girl,” he hums. He has such a deep voice, a good voice for an alpha, you think, a very good voice. You feel it vibrating in your toes and in your eyelashes and in your belly. “You’ve been through a great deal, haven’t you?” You want to say yes, you want to remind him that you’d waited for him for so very long, and that when you woke up, if you remembered, you’d be very cross with him for taking so long to come for you.

“You rest now,” he says. “It’s all alright now.” Yes, a very good voice.

2. More Intelligent Than a Face

Netherfeildren's Masterlist

Updates Blog

#HSM fic #vic fic #joel miller smut #joel miller #joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfic #joel miller x you #the last of us AU #joel miller fanfiction #pedro pascal characters

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wip · 1 month

Note

For a long time now, it's been impossible to see comments or reblogs with comment/tags on posts over a certain age when using the mobile app or blog view. Today I was looking at a post from 2015 that I knew had at least one reblog comment and lots of tags, but all the reblogs were under "other". I found the comment (but couldn't see any tags) by going to the [blog name].tumblr.com/post/[###] link and scrolling through all the notes in one list, but it's impossible anywhere else.

I know this probably has to do with the many changes Tumblr has gone through in that time, but it's still really inconvenient to have disappearing notes on the platform where part of the charm is that posts can survive for, at this point, almost a decade and a half.

Is it even possible to fix this, and of so, is it something you would consider?

Answer: Hey there, @maplerosekisses!

It is possible to fix this, and we would like to fix it, but it’s a daunting problem at Tumblr’s scale. Buckle up for storytime.

Long, long ago, Tumblr was created, and in the beginning, there weren’t even notes on posts. There weren’t even reblogs or likes. In fact, we were one of the first platforms to introduce the heart icon and the concept of “likes”! We created the reblog! Back in those days, each of these actions were tracked separately. Likes were tracked in one database table and reblogs weren’t tracked at all as notes. When we introduced replies, those had yet another way of being tracked in our database. Totally separate entities on the platform for years.

Eventually, we wanted to consolidate these into one number—so we had to count each of those different places. That’s horribly inefficient, and as Tumblr grew in size and popularity, this became a bottleneck that hurt the whole platform. So one of the things we did was to invent a new denormalized database table called “notes,” to track all of these different things in one place so we could easily count them. We still have that table, and it’s still the fallback whenever we need to count the notes on a post.

But this itself is ancient history. Since then, the product has changed even more, and we removed replies and re-added them later, back in 2015 or so—and made some changes in that process to help further improve efficiency. These improvements allowed us to include media in the notes view, and be able to split out replies versus reblogs-with-comment versus likes (kind of going back to the way it was originally.) Even then, we didn’t yet support showing tag usage in the notes—that would come even later.

In the process of making all of these changes for efficiency and functionality, we had to ask ourselves, as you point out: should we try to backfill these new database tables with all of the data from before? For a long while, we were using both systems to power the notes view, so we could display as much information from “before” as we could. Eventually, we didn’t need to do that anymore, because the number of people scrolling back to that “before” time became infinitesimally small. And that's the situation we’re in today.

Because if we wanted to backfill the data, we would need to process literally tens of billions of posts and notes from before 2015, at a conservative estimate. Let’s say it’s 10,000,000,000, for the sake of argument: if we started an automated process to go through them at ~100 per second (which would be relatively safe at our scale, so Tumblr doesn’t break as we’re digging up these old rows in the database), it would take over three years of continuous operation to complete that task.

In situations like this, we have to ask ourselves if that’s worth it. So far, the answer we’ve determined is no. But we may find a more efficient way to do it, there’s undoubtedly a way, and when we do, we will re-evaluate the decision again. We hope that makes sense—trying to make changes to Tumblr can be really, really hard.

But thank you for your question. We appreciate them and hope that goes some way to answering your query. Keep 'em coming, y'all.

#feature #notes #posting #reblogs

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byunpum · 2 months

Text

Safe heaven | Part 4 (final)

Pair: Neteyam x Human!reader (sully family, others na'vi)

Warning: cultural things ,comfort moments, plot twist(sorry), All characters are adults.

AVATAR MASTERLIST | Ko-fi

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4[final]

It had been a week since mo'at had proposed, a week since neteyam had decided to sleep with her grandmother and a week since you had accepted mo'at's proposal. Something that was not easy for you, knowing that you had to present yourself to eywa and that she could not accept you was something that was making you more nervous. You had been with mo'at all morning, she was preparing everything for the ritual, there were only a few hours left for the whole process to start. You felt the nerves start to take control of your body, your hands were shaking a little. As you handed Mo'at some herbs. Mo'at notices these actions, and takes your hand to give it a squeeze. Smiling a little at you. "You need to relax," mo'at says. "I know…but if she doesn't accept me?" you ask, you know that eywa's acceptance was something important to every creature in pandora. "She will do it…I'm sure of it. Then you and neteyam can unite as a mate. And no one will be able to object" mo'at chuckled a little.

She had to admit that she felt bad for not standing by her daughter, neytiri. She was supposed to support her as a mother, but this situation was something she would not support. Seeing her daughter try to put her grandson together with someone he didn't love was something she would not accept. Every being should have the freedom to love whomever they want. Besides, Mo'at loved you very much, she had cared for you so much through all these years. Her greatest wish was for you to be part of her family, of her people. And now that everything was happening…she was going to help you. "Yes… neteyam is everything to me" you speak. "I know" mo'at goes back to work. There was a pause in the conversation, mo'at looked back at you and now you were looking at your feet lost in thought. "I know you are worried about neytiri…but you have to give her space" mo'at says.

"I don't want neteyam to be away from his family because of me, I don't want to be the cause of that" you speak, mo'at could hear the worry in your voice. Somehow this was your insecurity. She comes to your side, wrapping her arms around you so that you lay on her chest. She used to do this a lot when you were little, and apparently things haven't changed much. "Y/N neteyam's choice is made…he chose you. You don't have to worry" mo'at squeezes you tighter. "Besides you should be relaxed, you know you haven't eaten anything since yesterday. I don't want anything to happen to you" mo'at speaks. And yes… the whole process of the initiation ritual was complicated. You remember when neteyam had to do it when you were the perfect age. All na'vi must go through this process. It consisted of fasting for 24 hours, meditating and then a ceremony with a certain group of people. They would present you to eywa, connecting and uniting you with her to be one of her children. Not counting the challenges you had to go through before, like being a productive na'vi. Being accepted into the clan etc. Then the Tsahìk, of the clan, would evaluate if you were worthy to present yourself to eywa. Of course…mo'at was ignoring the fact that neyitiri hate you and that you were human. She was taking a risk.

On the other hand, neteyam had worked all week naturally. Doing his daily chores, meeting his siblings and his father. As if nothing had happened, but he still had no contact with his mother. This worried him, but he wasn't giving it any attention. You were his priority right now. He was even ignoring Leeka's strange approaches to him, he knew that the girl was following her mother's instructions. Ignoring and refusing to let her approach him. Neteyam had already made his choice and was not about to change his mind. This particular day, neteyam was helping her father with the daily hunts, barely looking at him, trying to talk about anything but what was going on with her mother. "Dad…are you going to the y/n ceremony?" nateyam asks his father. Jake drops the piece of meat he was cutting, to look at his son. "Sure…you know I'm supportive," jake says, pausing. The most Jake wanted was for neytiri and neteyam to get back to the relationship they had before. This was not good for the family, they were supposed to be a close family and this was tearing them apart. Jake was aware that y/n was not to blame for this problem, maybe she was at the center of the argument. But the fault was that neytiri didn't want to understand that neteyam was already an adult…and that he chose what he wanted for his life. "Teyam… you need to talk to your mother," speaks Jake. Neteyam makes a grumbling noise. "I'm not going to go talk to her…let her come talk to me. She's the one with the problem…not me. I don't want to talk about it," Neteyam says, focusing on his work. Of course this was affecting him, for Neteyam his mother was important, but he was tired.

After being with his father all day, the afternoon came quickly. Cleaning up and getting everything ready. Half of the hunting this day was going to be for the small celebration they would have for your initiation. Neteyam said goodbye to his father, agreeing to meet later in the evening. Cleaning up to go to the mo'at hut, it was now his turn to help you. Neteyam arrived at his grandmother's hut, entering carefully. Seeing how mo'at was braiding your hair, approaching the women. By now he is kneeling in front of you. "Hello!!!" you greet him, watching as neteyam takes your hand for a quick kiss on your palm. "Hi baby, are you ready?" asks neteyam, seeing you giggle nervously. "Everything is ready…I need you to do the final decorating touches." Mo'at speaks, watching as neteyam climbs up. Neteyam was your host…so he was in charge of preparing you for the ceremony. After a while, and mo'at finished your hairstyle. And you and Neteyam left the hut, to go to where he was going to help you prepare.

Neteyam took you to this place, where few na'vis passed by. A quiet place to coexist. Surrounded by rocks and moss. It was cold and cozy at the same time. Neteyam had carefully chosen the clothes you would wear, being your mentor he had to choose all the details of the ceremony. Sitting in front of you, his hands were filled with a white ink. As he traced lines across your skin, from the tips of your hands to your neck. Drawing circles and a few dots with the paint on your skin. The paint felt cold, and wet on your skin, but you were so focused on neteyam's gaze. He was very focused on his work, touching you gently. While humming some chants. Every part of your body was being gently touched by his hands, with a love and delicacy. "I am so proud of you…thank you for doing this" says neteyam, starting to draw line on your forehead up to your neck. They were small lines, accompanied by a simple design.

"thank you for accepting me as I am" you speak, watching as neteyam's face breaks into a smile. As his index finger slides from your forehead to your nose, reaching your lips. Stopping for a moment, to make eye contact with you. He wanted so badly to have you for himself, to have you as his mate. "I love you" says neteyam, feeling you now holding his wrist. Giving his finger a little kiss. You watch as neteyam laughs, flashing a big smile. It's been a long time since you've seen him laugh like that. He looked so happy and comfortable right now. "Soon…we will be together, and we will have our home" neteyam starts talking. "O…how would you like our home to be?" neteyam was getting distracted talking, not noticing that you had gotten up on your knees, to move towards him. Taking his face in your hands to give him a kiss, pressing hard on his lips. Instinctively neteyam wraps his hands around your waist, pulling you closer to him. While you wrap your arms around his neck.

"Ehh none of that…until after the ceremony" mo'at shouts, moving closer to you. You break away a little embarrassed, but began to laugh as did mo'at. He might be going through some trouble, but this moment was supposed to be one of happiness. And mo'at was in charge of this. She came over to you, kneeling beside you. Adjusting a few pieces of your ornaments that covered your chest. Arranging some beads in your hair. "Are you ready?" asks mo'at. You nod enthusiastically, you wanted all this to happen, the nerves were eating you alive. "Let's go" says neteyam getting up from the floor, taking your hand to follow him.

In the ceremony there were all the people who wanted and needed for this. Jake, kiri, lo'ak, spider, norm, max, tsu'tey etc. They all cared…they all wanted to be a part of it. Mo'at had gone ahead and stood in front of the spirit tree. Raising his hands, chanting. Setting the whole mood. Neteyam was holding your hand, but I could see that his gaze was lost in the small crowd in front of you. He was looking for his mother, he wanted to make things right with her, but she was not able to accept you. Mo'at walks up to you, taking your hands to pull you closer to her. "'y/n…once you join, you will be one of us. And we will be one" Mo'at speaks. Mo'at helps you lie down on that kind of giant log that was in front of her. You are speechless when you can see the tentacles of the tree around you, glowing brightly.

You focus on mo'at's gaze, she places a hand on your forehead. "Honey…close your eyes and good luck." says mo'at, you obey and close your eyes. Taking a deep breath as you felt some stuff go up your hands, feet, back and head. It didn't hurt, it didn't even tingle. You just felt like they were there, telling yourself that everything would be okay. You stop hearing the mo'at chanting and everything goes white.

Out of nowhere you were sitting in a room, much like a laboratory. You look around examining your space, but just as you look to your right side you can see a woman. You didn't know how to describe her, something about her wouldn't let you memorize her…you could only feel her presence. "You've come so far honey" you could recognize that voice, for some reason your subconscious recognized it. "I…" you try to speak, but feel her take your hand. And you could feel all her energy running through your body. "You must not feel alone my child… every being pure of heart, will be my child. Regardless of their descent" says the presence. While you felt all its energy envelop you in a warm embrace. "Welcome" was the last thing you heard when you suddenly opened your eyes.

The gazes of neteyam, mo'at and norm were above you. Looking at you with concern, about 15 minutes had passed, which for you felt like seconds. You had been breathing heavily and your forehead was sweating. Norm had become concerned and even mo'at. This is the first time a human has ever tried to bond with eywa, in his human form. But the worry on his face disappeared, as tears of joy began to flow from your eyes. "She has welcomed me" you speak with a tearful voice, as you see the happy smiles of your new family. You stand up a little, and hug neteyam by the neck. You could hear the shouts of happiness and celebration. "Welcome to the clan" mo'at approaches you and hands you a songcord. Your eyes widen. Mo'at takes neteyam's hand and joins it with the tupara wrapping the amulet. "I hope you can write your new life here… just with the one you love," mo'at says, pulling you close to give you a kiss on your forehead. While wiping the tears from your eyes.

Little by little everyone present approached you. To welcome you, hugging you and accepting you as one of them. You felt a little strange, the feeling was something new, but you felt like you. At all times, neteyam had not let go of your hand, let alone move away from you. At last he had you by his side, at last… he could be with you. And no one could tell him anything, no one. For a moment, Neteyam can see the figure of Neytiri at a distance. You watch as neteyam is looking off into the distance, and you see the woman. You pinch his shoulder so that he goes to talk to his mother. The last thing you wanted was for him to miss an opportunity like this. Neteyam gives you a quick glance, and sees you nod at him to go. You can see him sigh nervously and start walking towards his mother.

Neteyam needed his mother to accept him, for her to be apart of this. "Hello" neteyam says, looking at his mother. Neytiri had her arms crossed and looked a little sorry. "I want to apologize to you…I know sometimes I can be stubborn and I" neytiri starts with her speech, but suddenly sees and feels neteyam hugging her tightly. Without hesitation, she hugs him back. "Mom…I just wanted that. Just this," says neteyam. He hears neytiri laugh, and hugs him tighter. In the distance you were watching the whole scene, jake was next to you. You had already settled down and sat on the floor, waiting for Neteyam to make up with his mother. "Do you think she'll ever talk to me?" you ask, watching as jake laughs. The laugh was something to himself, and hesitantly. "I don't know…but don't worry. Neytiri is a loving woman, she's just a little overprotective of her children. But she will accept you" says Jake. "Mmm I hope so" you speak, turning your attention back to neytiri.

Neytiri turns away from neteyam, taking her son's face in her hands. "Tell Y/N that I welcome him to the clan" says neytiri. "Don't you want to come?" asks neteyam, but he sees how his mother answers him with a denial movement, it was still too early to take that step, but he respected it. After all, it was a big step for her to be here. "Thank you mom" says neteyam, watching as neytiri smiles and begins her walk back to her hut. Neteyam stands there thoughtfully for a moment, only to turn around and watch as you were giving him a thumbs up. You were so happy, that this was happening.

After a long celebration, which had been prepared in the common area of the omaticayas. Where there was music, drink, and food hunted by themselves. After dancing and celebrating your joining the clan. Neteyam was desperate to be alone with you, so when you finally leave kiri and were looking for a drink, you see how neteyam approaches you playfully and takes you by the hand dragging you with him, towards the depth of the jungle. "Where are we going, eh?" you say playfully, neteyam just laughs and continues to guide you. You were both giggling, you were already recognizing the path…it was the one to the spitirus tree. You both approached the tree, entering more into its luminous branches. You were already trying to find a place to sit down, but you could feel neteyam standing behind you.

He had already sat down on the ground, taking your hips to guide them into his lap. Forcing you to sit between his legs, as he wrapped you in an embrace. Giving you a quick kiss on your cheek. "Finally…we can be together" neteyam says, he was speaking softly as he cradled you in his arms. You close your eyes, letting yourself be carried away by the moment…just because. This was a moment you would have loved to live with Neteyam. "Together forever" you speak, looking up. To see neteyam's confused face. "Sure, why not?" says neteyam, laughing nervously. "Yeah, why not. Just ignore what I said" you speak, as you settle further into his arms. "I love you so much y/n…I love you" neteyam says, kissing your neck, and breathing in your scent. He just wanted to stay there forever. "I will always be by your side, always."

"Hey y/n, can you hear me?" "Y/n?"

*fingers snap*

You open your eyes suddenly, to find lo'ak standing in front of you. He had a small smile on his face, he could see some tears running down your cheeks. He wipes them away carefully and sits down next to you. "Still not telling him?" asks lo'ak, watching as you remove your hand from the water and release one of the tentacles that rubbed the surface of the metkayina clan's spirit tree. For some reason, a very strange one. You were able to connect to the spirit tree, you thanked eywa for allowing you to join. You were thankful that there were many rocks there, where you could go and sit. "I don't have the courage to do it" you speak, wrapping your feet to your chest. "Yes you are right" says lo'ak, keeping silent. "Hey, how about we go for a ride?" lo'ak wanted to cheer you up, he knew these were very strong for you. And for him too…he missed his brother a lot. "Sure…I could use a good distraction" you say, accompanying lo'ak, but without looking back at the spirit tree.

It was the sixth anniversary of neteyam's death, six years since he left. 6 years since he promised to be by your side. He still doesn't know… he still keeps his promise and you like to create this scenario with him where you could finally be together and create your own safe heave.

p.s Forgive me… but it's been ages since I've done something sad. ahhhhhhh

Taglist <3 : @cardi-bre91 @klowicherry @smolbeanzzz

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wheelie-sick · 7 months

Text

Things to research before getting your first custom manual wheelchair

one of the biggest things I can recommend to anyone getting a new custom chair (but especially a first custom chair) is to understand all of the parts of a wheelchair and what they do. I decided to make a guide with wheelchair parts to research and places to look for information to make this process a little bit easier. additional link suggestions are welcome.

General resources:

Permobil - The Wheelchair Handbook

Motion Composites - Preparing for Your Wheelchair Evaluation: Before the Evaluation (Part 1)

Motion Composites - Preparing for Your Wheelchair Evaluation (Part 2)

1. Frame

Motion Composites - Folding vs Rigid Wheelchair Frames: How to Choose

Permobil - Manual wheelchairs: rigid and folding frames. How do you choose?

GTK - Oh what’s in a frame? Comparing Multiple Materials

Motion Composites - Wheelchairs: Carbon Fiber Versus Aluminum

2. Front frame angle

Motion Composites - Understanding the Impact of Rigid Wheelchair Front Frame Angle

Sunrise Medical - Rigid Frame Wheelchairs – Frame Angle and Inset

4. Seat dump

Permobil - Ergonomic Seating and Manual Wheelchairs

Spinlife - Wheelchair Back & Seat Angle

5. Caster size, style, and position

Motion Composites - Front Casters for Manual Wheelchairs Practical Guide

Sunrise Medical - Front Caster Position in Manual Wheelchairs

6. Caster forks

New Mobility - Caster Wheels and Forks

Sunrise Medical - Maneuverability in Manual Wheelchairs - What Fork to use?

New Mobility - Innovations: Emerging Trends in the Wheelchair Market (information about single sided forks)

7. Footplate

Motion Composites - Footrest Options to Support Function and Mobility

When Tania Talks - Active User Wheelchair Footplate Options

8. Calf strap

Spex Seating - Lower Leg Support Considerations in Wheelchair Seating

9. Seat pan

Permobil - Solid Seat Insert for Wheelchair: Taking a Closer Look at Cushion Components

10. Seat cushion

Permobil - What to Look for in Seating & Positioning Products

Permobil - How to Choose a Cushion in Long Term Care

Permobil - Cushion Geometry: Linear and Contoured

Freedom Mobility Center - Wheelchair Seat Cushions: 5 Tips for Choosing the Right One for You

Mobility Basics - Seat Cushion Rigidizer

Motion Composites - Selecting the Right Cushion for Your Wheelchair a Clinicians Guide

Motion Composites - Covering the Basics of Wheelchair and Back Support Covers

11. Seat belts

12. Clothing guards

Sherman Oaks Medical Equipment - Wheelchair Clothes Guards / Side Guards Guide

13. Arm rests

United Spinal Association - Wheelchair Armrests What Do They Really Do?

Spinlife - Wheelchair Arm Rest Choices

Motion Composites - Armrests: Getting the Support you Need

14. Back supports

Motion Composites - Solid vs Upholstery Backs

Mobility Management - How to Choose the Right Back Height for your Client

Freedom Mobility Center - Why a Solid Back is Preferred Over a Sling Back

Mobility Basics - Back Supports

Sunrise Medical - Tips for Selecting Prefabricated Wheelchair Backs

Motion Composites - Covering the Basics of Wheelchair and Back Support Covers

15. Head supports

16. Push handles

Motion Composites - Push Handles: Pushing Around

17. Wheels

Motion Composites - Rolling Along: The Importance of Rear Wheel Selection

Sunrise Medical - Comparing Wheelchair Wheel Spoke Options

Mobility Basics - Manual Wheelchair Wheels

18. Tires

New Mobility - Everything You Need to Know About Selecting the Right Wheelchair Tires

GTK - Solid versus Pneumatic Tyres

Mobility Basics - Manual Wheelchair Wheels

Motion Composites - Tire Selection: Balancing Performance and Maintenance

19. Brakes

Motion Composites - Wheel Locks: Unlocking Safety and Function

20. Push rims/Hand rims

Motion Composites - Getting a Grasp: Understanding the Impact of Hand Rims

DME Hub - Wheelchair Hand Rom Options and Factors to Consider

21. Anti-tip wheels

22. Camber

Motion Composites - Camber - Degrees of Performance

23. Center of Gravity

Motion Composites - Rear Wheel Position 101

#wheelchair user

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amalgamasreal · 1 year

Text

So I don't know how people on this app feel about the shit-house that is TikTok but in the US right now the ban they're trying to implement on it is a complete red herring and it needs to be stopped.

They are quite literally trying to implement Patriot Act 2.0 with the RESTRICT Act and using TikTok and China to scare the American public into buying into it wholesale when this shit will change the face of the internet. Here are some excerpts from what the bill would cover on the Infrastructure side:

SEC. 5. Considerations.

(a) Priority information and communications technology areas.—In carrying out sections 3 and 4, the Secretary shall prioritize evaluation of— (1) information and communications technology products or services used by a party to a covered transaction in a sector designated as critical infrastructure in Policy Directive 21 (February 12, 2013; relating to critical infrastructure security and resilience);

(2) software, hardware, or any other product or service integral to telecommunications products and services, including— (A) wireless local area networks;

(B) mobile networks;

(D) satellite operations and control;

(E) cable access points;

(F) wireline access points;

(G) core networking systems;

(H) long-, short-, and back-haul networks; or

(I) edge computer platforms;

(3) any software, hardware, or any other product or service integral to data hosting or computing service that uses, processes, or retains, or is expected to use, process, or retain, sensitive personal data with respect to greater than 1,000,000 persons in the United States at any point during the year period preceding the date on which the covered transaction is referred to the Secretary for review or the Secretary initiates review of the covered transaction, including— (A) internet hosting services;

(B) cloud-based or distributed computing and data storage;

(C) machine learning, predictive analytics, and data science products and services, including those involving the provision of services to assist a party utilize, manage, or maintain open-source software;

(D) managed services; and

(E) content delivery services;

(4) internet- or network-enabled sensors, webcams, end-point surveillance or monitoring devices, modems and home networking devices if greater than 1,000,000 units have been sold to persons in the United States at any point during the year period preceding the date on which the covered transaction is referred to the Secretary for review or the Secretary initiates review of the covered transaction;

(5) unmanned vehicles, including drones and other aerials systems, autonomous or semi-autonomous vehicles, or any other product or service integral to the provision, maintenance, or management of such products or services;

(6) software designed or used primarily for connecting with and communicating via the internet that is in use by greater than 1,000,000 persons in the United States at any point during the year period preceding the date on which the covered transaction is referred to the Secretary for review or the Secretary initiates review of the covered transaction, including— (A) desktop applications;

(B) mobile applications;

(D) payment applications; or

(E) web-based applications; or

(7) information and communications technology products and services integral to— (A) artificial intelligence and machine learning;

(B) quantum key distribution;

(D) quantum computing;

(E) post-quantum cryptography;

(F) autonomous systems;

(G) advanced robotics;

(H) biotechnology;

(I) synthetic biology;

(J) computational biology; and

(K) e-commerce technology and services, including any electronic techniques for accomplishing business transactions, online retail, internet-enabled logistics, internet-enabled payment technology, and online marketplaces.

(b) Considerations relating to undue and unacceptable risks.—In determining whether a covered transaction poses an undue or unacceptable risk under section 3(a) or 4(a), the Secretary— (1) shall, as the Secretary determines appropriate and in consultation with appropriate agency heads, consider, where available— (A) any removal or exclusion order issued by the Secretary of Homeland Security, the Secretary of Defense, or the Director of National Intelligence pursuant to recommendations of the Federal Acquisition Security Council pursuant to section 1323 of title 41, United States Code;

(B) any order or license revocation issued by the Federal Communications Commission with respect to a transacting party, or any consent decree imposed by the Federal Trade Commission with respect to a transacting party;

(C) any relevant provision of the Defense Federal Acquisition Regulation and the Federal Acquisition Regulation, and the respective supplements to those regulations;

(D) any actual or potential threats to the execution of a national critical function identified by the Director of the Cybersecurity and Infrastructure Security Agency;

(E) the nature, degree, and likelihood of consequence to the public and private sectors of the United States that would occur if vulnerabilities of the information and communications technologies services supply chain were to be exploited; and

(F) any other source of information that the Secretary determines appropriate; and

(2) may consider, where available, any relevant threat assessment or report prepared by the Director of National Intelligence completed or conducted at the request of the Secretary.

Look at that, does that look like it just covers the one app? NO! This would cover EVERYTHING that so much as LOOKS at the internet from the point this bill goes live.

It gets worse though, you wanna see what the penalties are?

(b) Civil penalties.—The Secretary may impose the following civil penalties on a person for each violation by that person of this Act or any regulation, order, direction, mitigation measure, prohibition, or other authorization issued under this Act: (1) A fine of not more than $250,000 or an amount that is twice the value of the transaction that is the basis of the violation with respect to which the penalty is imposed, whichever is greater. (2) Revocation of any mitigation measure or authorization issued under this Act to the person. (c) Criminal penalties.— (1) IN GENERAL.—A person who willfully commits, willfully attempts to commit, or willfully conspires to commit, or aids or abets in the commission of an unlawful act described in subsection (a) shall, upon conviction, be fined not more than $1,000,000, or if a natural person, may be imprisoned for not more than 20 years, or both. (2) CIVIL FORFEITURE.— (A) FORFEITURE.— (i) IN GENERAL.—Any property, real or personal, tangible or intangible, used or intended to be used, in any manner, to commit or facilitate a violation or attempted violation described in paragraph (1) shall be subject to forfeiture to the United States. (ii) PROCEEDS.—Any property, real or personal, tangible or intangible, constituting or traceable to the gross proceeds taken, obtained, or retained, in connection with or as a result of a violation or attempted violation described in paragraph (1) shall be subject to forfeiture to the United States. (B) PROCEDURE.—Seizures and forfeitures under this subsection shall be governed by the provisions of chapter 46 of title 18, United States Code, relating to civil forfeitures, except that such duties as are imposed on the Secretary of Treasury under the customs laws described in section 981(d) of title 18, United States Code, shall be performed by such officers, agents, and other persons as may be designated for that purpose by the Secretary of Homeland Security or the Attorney General. (3) CRIMINAL FORFEITURE.— (A) FORFEITURE.—Any person who is convicted under paragraph (1) shall, in addition to any other penalty, forfeit to the United States— (i) any property, real or personal, tangible or intangible, used or intended to be used, in any manner, to commit or facilitate the violation or attempted violation of paragraph (1); and (ii) any property, real or personal, tangible or intangible, constituting or traceable to the gross proceeds taken, obtained, or retained, in connection with or as a result of the violation. (B) PROCEDURE.—The criminal forfeiture of property under this paragraph, including any seizure and disposition of the property, and any related judicial proceeding, shall be governed by the provisions of section 413 of the Controlled Substances Act (21 U.S.C. 853), except subsections (a) and (d) of that section.

You read that right, you could be fined up to A MILLION FUCKING DOLLARS for knowingly violating the restrict act, so all those people telling you to "just use a VPN" to keep using TikTok? Guess what? That falls under the criminal guidelines of this bill and they're giving you some horrible fucking advice.

Also, VPN's as a whole, if this bill passes, will take a goddamn nose dive in this country because they are another thing that will be covered in this bill.

They chose the perfect name for it, RESTRICT, because that's what it's going to do to our freedoms in this so called "land of the free".

Please, if you are a United States citizen of voting age reach out to your legislature and tell them you do not want this to pass and you will vote against them in the next primary if it does. This is a make or break moment for you if you're younger. Do not allow your generation to suffer a second Patriot Act like those of us that unfortunately allowed for the first one to happen.

And if you support this, I can only assume you're delusional or a paid shill, either way I hope you rot in whatever hell you believe in.

#politics #restrict bill #tiktok #tiktok ban #s.686 #us politics #tiktok senate hearing #land of the free i guess #patriot act #patriot act 2.0

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femmefatalevibe · 1 year

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Femme Fatale Guide: How To Overcome Imposter Syndrome & Perfectionism

How To Overcome Imposter Syndrome:

Keep Your Ideal Self Top of Mind: While you can't ever truly "fake it until you make it," it is essential to cultivate the belief that can act in accordance with your ideal self. Consider what the ideal version of yourself would do on a daily basis: What would your morning routine/night routine look like? How would you prioritize tasks or activities throughout your day? What would you consider your metrics for a successful project, task, social interaction, or professional activity? How would you describe a productive day, week, or month? Qualify and quantify these ideal metrics to give yourself a blueprint to move forward toward your goals and become the best version of yourself.

Competence Builds Confidence: Remember that the notion of an "overnight success story" is a fallacy. Quickly-awarded achievements, seemingly effortless skill sets, or having the perfect script for every occasion typically stem from hours or years of practice, experiences, studying, self-development, and trial and error. Over time, you refine these crafts until you can consider them as strengths. This inner knowing gives you the self-assurance needed to truly believe in yourself and it's contagious in your work, speech, and body language. Competence radiates inner confidence, without a question.

Remember Everything Is Relative: Logically, we know that comparing the middle of someone's journey to the beginning of yours doesn't make any sense. While it can be intimidating to enter the ring as a beginner, remember that the most skilled and successful people you know were at one point at square one. The only way to catch up to those you admire is to make an effort in the first place. However, because you're a beginner, give yourself some grace and remember that making mistakes is part of the learning process. It is better to fail in the beginning before people have certain expectations of you. But, the truth is, no one truly knows what they're doing. More time existing and life experience only helps us make better judgments to more accurately assess the proper next move.

Perceive Attempts As Data: Success is all about pattern recognition. See what "inputs" derive certain "outputs." Some attempts – at a certain career path, academic concentration, interpersonal interactions – will be advantageous with many that are neutral and some that go sour. Do not allow an unanswered email to a pitch, a lower grade on an assignment, or an ending of any type of relationship to feel like a moral failure and as a marker of your worth (personally, professionally, etc.). Evaluate what you did correctly and seek out areas for improvement. The more attempts you make, the more data you collect in order to help you make accurate assessments going forward. Consider this your motivation to start.

Accept Failures As Life Lessons: Failures offer a unique opportunity for self-reflection and course correction. Consider the mistakes that lead you to a negative outcome or the unfavorable circumstances you entered into (e.g. not studying for a test or already seeing red flags during the job interview). Use these opportunities to refine your strategies to succeed. While failures might not be inherently positive in the short term, failing fast saves you a lot of trouble along the way.

How To Overcome Perfectionism:

Find Stupidly Small Ways To Start: Write the title on a document and some keywords you want to use; Write an introductory sentence to an email; Place the first photo on the collage; Mix the spices together for a dish –literally anything to get you started on the task at hand. Give yourself a small push to gain momentum to keep going.

Set A Timer: Gamify any task by making it a race against the clock. Set a timer for 10, 20, or 30 minutes to see how much you can get done with a short spurt for hyper-focus. Focus on output, not outcomes when using this method. Remember: You can always go back and edit a project or refine the details of a space, meal, or task after. You will probably surprise yourself with how much you get done and how quick it is to elevate the standard of any timed work.

Consider Consequences of Delayed Action: Procrastination is perfectionism's greatest frenemy. The quicker you are to begin a task or strategize how to initiate a conversation, the more likely you will be to make it happen and give yourself the brain space to mull over the ideas before sharing the final product. Shitty first drafts of anything in life are welcomed. You can always edit later before finishing or showcasing something you want to take pride in. A step forward gives you guidance toward the right path. A step backward provides insight into how to strategize to win in the future. The only guaranteed way to never achieve greatness in a certain area of life is to not start in the first place.

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the-world-annealing · 7 months

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STOP SAYING CULT WHEN YOU MEAN ECHO CHAMBER

"This close-knit community gets all their information from a small number of biased sources, doesn't tolerate dissenting opinions, and shouted me down when I told them this." yeah that's how every group with beliefs tends to act, that's a definition that covers most fandoms. That doesn't mean it's productive to put them in the same category as scientology or jim jones.

"Am I in a cult" is a hard question for people to ask of themselves, because 'cult' invokes evil and control and exploitation. Admitting you're part of something that inherently does harm is hard! Additionally admitting that some number of people you know and like are evil manipulators is even harder. But that's what you're tacitly demanding when you throw 'get out of your cult' at someone during an internet slapfight!

"Am I in an echo chamber" still isn't an easy question to ask, but it's easier! It's more objective, it's less tied up in someone's perception of themselves and their friends, and it allows for a more graceful retreat. You're asking someone to re-evaluate the processes that lead to their beliefs, rather than abandon group membership.

If anyone accused of being in a cult actually was part of one, there would still be a pragmatic argument to say 'echo chamber' instead. But most people who get called cultists simply aren't, so why would you cast them in a weird victim-abuser superposition instead of focusing on the actual problem?

#metadiscourse #discourse #'oh this is about X' no it's not #every single group with beliefs ever gets called a cult #this is about all of them

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emillyverse · 2 months

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Production stages of the Fan Comic of "The Wish Kingdom" !!!

(written by @annymation)

And as promised, here is the "schedule" I said I was putting together for the Comic fic production process.

In the end, this isn't really a "timeline", it's more like a list of what I'll do to build the comic. I want to make all the processes very clear and described to give you an idea of how it will be done and a small idea of how long it will take.

Remembering that I am a human being, not an AI to do things quickly, I have another life beyond networks and this project.

Besides the fact that none of us are being paid to do this comic (although I really wanted to, I'm not going to lie), all of this is being done on the basis of love, affection, positivity and adoration for the initial concepts dispensed by Disney, their classic films that really made that company grow and the main messages conveyed by Walt Disney while he was still alive: "If you can dream something, you can make it happen!" and "It's fun to do the impossible!"

So please be patient and kind to me and the entire team! I already love, adore and thank everyone willing to follow our project.

Well… Let's get started!

1- Rereading and Separating the text:

Starting today (02/26/2024) I will be re-reading Anny's fanfic, separating all of her text into scenes, highlighting the following points:

Atmosphere

Characters (designs made by @uva124)

Speeches and facial expressions - the message

Thus defining "who says what, how and in which place?"

Since I will be doing the setting art myself, as the story progresses, I would really appreciate a little help. I'm guessing if you're reading this you've probably already read The Kingdom of Wishes and consequently imagined the scenarios! If you find any images online that remind you of the locations of the scenes in your mind, you can send them to me as a reference! I'm always open to references for drawings!

2- Make the "Thumbnails"

I don't know what term foreigners use to define the thumbnails that make up the first drafts of comics, but here in Brazil, we call them "Doll", in reference to the fact that the sketches are a "test doll" for the comic strip .

Anyway, I digress! It is at this stage that I define the composition of the scenes through sketches. This is where I define what appears or not in the scene, what the scene will be focused on, how I will guide the reader's eye by the meaning of reading the scene, where the lines, the characters, their movements and others will be located… It's a planning phase on how to portray the scenes; the most complex I would say.

3- Review

Here I take a break for two days or three days at most, to relax and forget about the project for a bit. I come back with new energy and review everything that was done, ask for opinions and suggestions from the team, in short, I give a great evaluation and improvement in everything!

4 - Finalization and Publication

In this last step, I transform the sketches into final artwork using graphite pencils, colored pencils and pens that I have available.

When they are all finished, I will publish the comics here and on all my social networks!

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

Finally....

I would like to say that yes, I will be posting spoilers for all these stages, watch them at your own risk!

Remembering that English is not my native language, so I really hope everything was understandable! But if you have any questions, you can send questions to me or any member of the team!

And if you want to know a little more about my arts, you can check out my Instagram!

Kisses full of light and stars!

Let's work!!

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andypantsx3 · 1 month

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hi andie!

do u have any tips for corporate girlies? my friend is starting out in the corp world !! and got a lot of reality checks over how harsh and 'corporate' it is :((

Ohhhhh my god yeah corporate culture sucks!! It's just a bunch of adult babies using fancy words tbh lmao, acting like we're going to war and/or curing cancer when we're really just launching a product no one wants or needs lol.

Not sure what industry your friend is or what role she's in but here are some general tips, starting with practical project tips to more personal/sanity check tips lol.

Make sure you understand your organization's goals and success criteria. This is so basic but in order to understand what leadership cares about and how all the different project components fit in, you're going to want to learn what are all the active projects, who owns them, what success is being evaluated on, and how those performance indicators are being calculated. I work with some people who have no idea what is going on (which, fair) but it ends up creating a ton of churn and can look super bad for them if they are not in step with what our corporate overlords expect from them.

Clear communication is key. Never have I ever encountered more communication issues than working in corporate; people often have one image in their head of what a task looks like where their partner teams might have another, and if you don't outline all the key details together, you could end up delivering something unusable. If you're an individual contributor (aka a task doer), make sure you ask clarifying questions of the project leads if they haven't specified (like, what testing environment something needs to be deployed to, what are the release gating procedures, what is the expected timeline, etc). If you're a project manager, make sure you're clarifying those details with stakeholders and passing that information to your team; prompt your team to ask questions even if they seem clear, and make sure you get that info for them ASAP!!

Documentation is crucial. If you make an implementation decision, document it. If you have a delivery, document it. If you have a process for anything, make sure you document it. If you have a meeting, get those notes out. If you have an agreement with stakeholders, make sure you get it in writing and get them to sign off on it!! Information is key to helping other people understand what you are doing, why you are doing it, what the expectations were from other related parties when you started doing it, and how it can be improved if needed. If you're a project lead or manager, start a folder or repository somewhere for all project communications, keep all your emails & slacks with stakeholders (because they will come back being snotheads and you can politely whip out receipts). :3

Be proactive. Observe the kinds of questions leadership asks, understand their concerns & needs. Then proactively make sure you are addressing those things in your work and/or in your reporting. For example, if you're reporting on a release failure in a weekly business review, make sure you call out things like: 1) what you tried to do to prevent failure, 2) what the ultimate blockers or root causes of failure were, 3) what your learnings were from that failure, 4) what you are going to do to fix it, and 5) what the revised ETA is. That way, even though things didn't go your way, leadership understands you are on top of things and proactively working to solve problems.

Understand priorities & tradeoffs. There will come a time where you have conflicting demands on your time. Work with your manager or org leadership to understand what projects are higher priorities than others, and do not be afraid to escalate to your manager or above if progress is threatened or if you need to clarify. For example, Project A is high priority and Project B is medium priority, but the project manager from Project B is all up in your business asking you to deliver something or investigate something that you don't know if you have time for. Loop in your manager to determine if someone else can take Project B, or inform them that doing B will impose these anticipated risks to A; are they comfortable with that? Then you can circle back to Project B to deliver the news that you're working on A, your manager has suggested this revised timeline or other POC they can work with, and if they have concerns they can escalate. (Usually this shuts ppl up :3)

Improve processes. I cannot emphasize this enough but try to think about how to do things better the next time around, even if things went solidly to plan. Do not get defensive about your work or the quality of your work; always be thinking (or asking other people) about how time could be cut off of something, what processes could be put in place to minimize touchpoints or decrease risks. If you can, try to impose this mindset on your team & ask for project retrospectives, and take specific action items out of those retrospectives! Trust me it makes things so much clearer and easier in the long run if you work to make things better over time!!

Get a mentor. Find someone who has the job you want to have or who seems to know the things you want to know about and ask them to work with you on that! Tell them what your goal is, whether to develop a special skill set to move roles, or develop a specific understanding of a project or concept, and ask them to help you develop a plan to get there. Set up regular time together and goals to work towards in that time. This helps you learn things faster and gives you someone who can vouch for you when it comes time for yearly feedback, role changes, or promotions.

Create a personal portfolio. Keep track of all the things that you do; all the projects you are on, what your role is, what you were responsible for delivering, and what resources you created as part of that, whether it's project wikis, some script, etc. Keep your manager aware of it so they understand your value and have visibility on your work; you can leverage this when it comes time for role changes or promotions. Additionally try to make sure you're working on high viz or high value projects; this gives you even more leverage!!

Do not tie your self worth to your performance or your job title. At the end of the day capitalism sucks, corporations are evil, and none of this shit matters. Even if you don't do something well once, you can improve in the future, and even if your company doesn't see it/isn't a good match for your skills, you have value!!! They profit from keeping you underpaid, stressed out, and dejected, but you are not just a 'resource' or a cog in a machine. You are a person; you will make missteps from time to time but you bring more value to this planet and the people on it just by existing than these capitalist enterprises could ever. Do do not burn yourself out trying to please them, keep yourself open to other job options, and make sure you have a good friend/family support structure in place to reality check you!!

Idk how helpful this was but I hope there was a little something in there that your friend could use. If she has specific questions on anything I'm happy to help out too lol; that might give me more idea what specific aspect she is struggling with & how to help!

#ask andie

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sailtomarina · 5 months

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I don't like it

Hermione could feel the burn of his stare in her back from the moment she’d sat down. How that could be true despite several rows of students between them as they all practiced their tortoise to trumpet transfiguration, she wasn’t sure, but the ever-pressing stare was there in between her shoulder blades like a hot knife sliding into the slotted space.

She refused to turn around and meet the steely-eyed gaze with her own. She focused entirely on her tortoise as it happily munched on a strawberry. She beamed with pride as Headmistress McGonagall praised her silver trumpet in front of the rest of the class. She even managed a few toots on the mouthpiece for good measure.

“Please bring your work to the front of the class. Three rolls of parchment discussing the theory and application of this spell are due next week, including special emphasis on your own work today as an example. Make sure to evaluate every angle of the process that resulted in your final product.”

As Hermione dropped off her instrument and turned to gather her belongings, she finally crossed paths with Malfoy as he walked up with his own silver trumpet in hand. Of the entire class, theirs were the only ones matching in color and quality, the rest being variations of gold, bronze, and tortoise-shell.

She couldn’t help the slight rise in her brows, and his lip twisted up in acknowledgement.

“Meet me after class,” he muttered in a voice just low enough for only her to hear as they brushed by one another.

The fluttering in her stomach turned into outright flips as she struggled to keep her composure.

This was new.

She lingered as she stacked her books and carefully slipped her quill and ink jar into her stationary pouch. Each move was painstakingly slow as she waited for the classroom to empty.

“Good show today, Ms Granger,” Headmistress McGonagall said fondly as she, too, walked out, a trail of trumpets floating in her wake.

By the time Hermione flipped her bag strap onto her shoulder and turned to follow, only her and Malfoy remained. He looked to have been ready for a while, sitting as he was on top of his desk and flipping his wand in lazy twirls.

The eyes of the two golden cat statues flanking the doorway seemed to watch as she approached him one step at a time, silent as she’d learned to be when on the run. Despite her efforts, her breathing sounded heavy in her own ears. Desperate.

She didn’t stop until her hands brushed his hip. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath—pine, woodsmoke, a hint of fog.

She let it all out as a touch, almost too light to be felt, traced her jawline to her lips.

Her eyes opened to find him directly facing her and coming in closer.

She could step away. She could stop him with a hand to his firm chest.

She could…let him.

His lips brushed softly against hers, as tentative as his fingertips had just been, but then pressed more insistently when she fisted his sweater. Their heads tilted and mouths slanted against one another, finding purchase and drinking each other in with gasps and a sliding of tongues.

The flipping in her stomach had stilled, and now Hermione simply felt warm, as if she’d been floating aimless and finally touched down onto the earth, only Malfoy was her landing pad. He grounded her in a way she’d never expected, but now craved with a voracity that left her twisting in her sheets at night.

He broke their kiss with a hand clenching the curls at the base of her neck, twisting just so until she panted up at him, her dark eyes wide in anticipation.

“I don’t like it, Granger,” he muttered, eyes roaming her face, an indecipherable expression contorting his features.

The fluttering was back, nervousness clawing her insides. “You don’t like what?”

“Waiting.”

This time it was her turn to blanche as she tried to pull away. His fist tightened, and she grunted at the force keeping her in place.

“What do you want to change, then?” she forced out behind gritted teeth.

Please, please don’t say you want to end whatever the hell this is.

Silence filled the space between them as his brow furrowed and his pretty pink lips parted.

She readied herself with bated breath for his ultimatum. This little thing of theirs had started suddenly without any premeditation on her part. One moment, they’d been yelling at each other in a deserted corridor, and the next they’d been entwined, snogging and rutting like animals in heat. He’d brought her to orgasm pinned against the stone wall, then left her alone to smooth down her skirt and catch her breath.

She thought it had been a one off.

Then it happened again, and again.

Before she knew it, they were sneaking off a few times a week. Always in secret. Never in sight of others. In public, they acted like they always had—sniping at one another every chance they could, unless they were ignoring one another.

Hermione slept better at night than she had in the months leading up to their return to Hogwarts. Her nightmares were mostly gone unless something triggered their return. She knew he felt the same, if the disappearance of the circles underneath his eyes was any indication.

She didn’t want to stop meeting him.

“I want more.” He basically snarled the words into her face, eyes flashing. He maintained his grip on her hair, but the other hand came around to roughly grip her hip and pull her up against him.

“So you want to fuck? Is that it?”

They hadn’t actually gone that far…yet. They always stopped just short, and she’d been fine with that until today.

At her words, his hold loosened and he simply held her in place with his palms open against her. The scowl disappeared, and the lines wrinkling his brow smoothed out.

“That’s not what I mean.”

She could almost throw up with how forcefully her innards twisted in on themselves. Was it terror or hope tossing her into disarray like this?

“Then what do you mean?” she asked.

“When I said ‘I don’t like it’, I was referring to the way you and I sneak around. It was exciting at first, but I’m over keeping how I feel about you a secret. I want to touch you like this wherever and whenever I please.”

Hope, it was definitely hope filling her to the brim, with perhaps a thin layer of fear.

“Does that include your house mates?” He shrugged at her question. “What about your parents?”

The hand at her hip moved up and he cupped her face gently in both hands, bringing his forehead down to press against her own.

“As far as I’m concerned, they no longer have a say in what I do or don’t do. Not after everything. Not ever in regards to you.”

She didn’t resist when he kissed her so sweetly that she felt tears welling up beneath her lids. She allowed herself to be wrapped up into his arms, clutching the soft wool of his sweater and not wanting to ever let go.

She thanked the stars above for whoever it was that had decided to send them all back for a final school year. It had seemed pointless, at first, someone’s optimistic attempt at rewinding time and expecting the pieces to fall into place. It hadn’t at all been peaceful at the start.

She wasn’t sure when it started, but as the structured days passed—filled with classes, coursework, individual and group therapy sessions, and encouraged co-mingling of houses—that optimistic attempt became reality. People exploded, yes, like she had with Malfoy, but they seemed better for it afterward.

If she had refused the mandate, had accepted the Ministry’s offer to begin work and ventured out on her own, then she very likely would still be alone.

Instead, she was here with Draco Malfoy, and she wanted to stay that way.

“Okay.”

WC 1352

Twitter prompt from DramionePrompts

Cross posted on Tumblr and AO3

It’s been a bit since my last update, and when I mean a bit, it’s been maybe just once this week? I’ve been a bit overwhelmed with a few fest projects I picked up this season and am still working on, which resulted in a drop off of daily exercises like this one. I hope you like it!

#dramione #dramione prompt #dhr fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter flashfic #hermione granger #draco malfoy #draco malfoy x hermione granger

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