#there’s wild rumors going around that he will never confirm nor deny

[aesthetic-uni]

Miles “Who’s Morales” vs Gwen “Gwwwwanda” vs Pavtir “You seem like a nice young woman I do not know” FIGHT

#uni talks about the universe #spiderverse #across the spiderverse #across the spider verse spoilers #miles morales #gwen stacy #pavtir prabhakar #the spider kids DO NOT know how to lie #Jess: You know we can just teach them how to lie #Miguel: sorry no this is a canon event #Peter B: For once I agree every kid must suffer through this stage #Hobie seems like he’s immune to this #but he slipped up once and no one has ever been able to figure out what happened #there’s wild rumors going around that he will never confirm nor deny #side note Margo and Peni are also apart of the spider kids #this has nothing to do with the post I just see people leaving them out so I’m making this formal announcement to my two followers #originally I put how pav’s hair was giving him away but the scene with saving his girlfriend felt more accurate yknow?

[mxpseudonym]

Ada Is Just Perfect

Pairing: Ada x Reader (femme)

Summary: Ada and Reader meet working at the library. The 1920′s gays amirite ladies?

Length: 2017 words (allegedly)

Warnings: None.

A/N: Wow, she’s finally here and queer and ready to party. I went back in to edit this to be shorter and made it like 500 words longer so... yeah. Also, this piece, like all of my work will not feature violence or shaming of marginalized communities because there’s enough of that in the real world. Use your suspension of disbelief to believe in tolerance.

---

Ada.

Your first impression of her was a reflection of your hope that she wasn't a chatty girl come to London for the excitement, only using the library job to pay for nights out. You thought she was someone to be wary of, but lovely nonetheless.

Your position in the library was a godsend. As your grandmother once scolded you for, you often enjoyed the world you'd built in your head a bit more than what was around you. For Ada, her position seemed to be a godsend for the exact opposite reason. She enjoyed meeting new people and quietly discussing social issues in the corner. Many loved her, and many were skeptical. Mostly the men, like Patrick in the archives, who said she was a gangster and a communist.

You didn't have the opportunity to confirm nor deny rumors as your shifts and breaks never aligned in a way where you could do more than smile softly in passing. It wasn't until the morning Ada volunteered to take over for a bedridden Margaret that you met. You put the kettle on while Peter went into too much detail about the new encyclopedia.

Though Ada worked there for nearly a month, it wasn't until you joined the conversation with your cup of tea that you truly took her in. She was beautiful- cheeks rosy and lips a delicate pink. Her skin was freckled, and you suspected it was soft as well. All of your restraint went to not reaching out and touching. Well, some of it went to deciphering the notes of her perfume without breathing her in.

Ada's eyes flicked to yours and snapped you out of your insensibility. You could feel your own blush as you gave her a small smile. She returned it then rolled her eyes slightly, glancing towards Peter who was going on yet another know-it-all tangent. You stifled a laugh, and no sooner did she make her way over to you.

"You're y/n aren't you?" Her voice sounded so assured as it floated to your ears.

"I am." You nodded. "And you're Ada Thorne?"

"Yes, I'm new." She confirmed it. There was a pause as you grabbed two cups. She cleared her throat slightly, then asked, "Are you also interested in encyclopedias?"

"God, no. You'd think someone surrounded by books all day would learn a thing or two about when to piss off," you said the words without thinking. You nearly spilled the tea you were pouring when you jumped at the sound of Ada's sudden laughter. You looked at her with wide eyes, and she shook her head. A few of your coworkers glanced over in jealousy that someone was actually having fun during Peter's lecture.

"Something tells me you don't get nearly enough credit for wit. Women don't usually though."

"You're right about that." You handed her the teacup, and you both moved towards the hallway.

"Alright, so tell me, what does y/n like to read?"

From then on, you began having more talks. You didn't know when, but at some point, Ada's hours shifted to align with yours. She told you it was because she didn't like leaving too late in the evening. You didn't mind. In fact, you secretly hoped she was a chatty woman after all, and would always stop you mid-shelving to tell you about something in the news about women's rights or the union.

At the next staff outing, a bit of a cocktail party with some academics, you found yourself actually showing up. You never went to these things, and it took the first half-hour for everyone to stop commenting on it. Ada seemed to know her way around well, commanding conversations and working the room. You'd work at the library for nearly over the year and hadn't even heard half of these people's voices.

You could hold your own, but your disinterest in many of the perspectives in the room of men tended to make you grin and bear it while Peter from the archive room explained why women's suffrage was foolish to every woman who didn't have the option to not listen. Your eyes always traveled the place, keeping tabs on Ada. Peter's eyes followed yours when you finally found her.

"Ah, the new girl."

"Woman," you corrected to no avail.

"Heard she's a communist and a gangster." He grimaced.

"How exciting. I'll get to the bottom of things and report back." You shamelessly stole his glass of whiskey and made your way over to the conversation Ada was commanding.

"-It's the power and the power and property of the people," she said. You had to admit that, though it was terrible of you, politics were something you were only shallowly versed in before she showed up. You watched her passion as she spoke, the way her eyes lit up, and her hands moved theatrically. When the men she was talking to got pulled away, she gave you all of her attention.

"You're so passionate." You commended her.

"Well, someone has to be, right?" She shrugged and led you both towards a table that held more wine.

"I would really love to hear your perspective on the strikes." You tried to remain calm as you made your ask. "If you have time one of these days, after work even." Ada turned and caught the gaze that you hoped wasn't as eager as you felt.

"I would really like that. But only if you talk to me about mythology." She bargained. Your eyebrows shot up at her observation. You rarely talked about Greek mythology with anyone but the old man who came to the library every Thursday.

"How did-"

"I saw the way your eyes rolled while Edwin spewed his "Zeus doesn't get enough credit" bullshit." She scoffed, and you couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up in you and spilled out your mouth.

"Your laugh is so lovely," she said abruptly. So abruptly that even her own eyes widened a bit in surprise.

"Thank you." You didn't shy away from the compliment.

It was a dangerous realization, but the more you spent time together,  to hang out more, you began to feel that there was no denying you were flirting with one another. You used things that a few friends had once told you on a night out at a bar when they saw a stranger making eyes at you. You were tipsy and let them coach you on flirting like a modern woman. While that had been undoubtedly awkward, this was one of the more natural things you had done in life. Ada was easy to get on with.

She came in one day with freshly cut hair, and you couldn't help but admire it.

"You cut it," you pointed out as you shelved the infamous encyclopedia. You turned fully, to see Ada looking at you in earnest.

"Well? Do you like it?" She asked, bumping the ends.

"You look so lovely with it like this," you told her.

"Short?"

"In a way you like it," you clarified. Ada smiled to herself, turning to the stack of books at hand then back to you.

"Are you going to join the wild girls and chop your locks into a bob?" Ada reached out and toyed with your ends. You blushed and shook your head.

"Oh, I don't think I have the face for it."

"Nonsense, I think you've got the face for just about anything, y/n." Ada's fingers slipped under your chin and tilted your head up. Your eyes locked, and you could feel your brow furrow slightly. It was such a blurry line to walk along, this feeling. She turned once again to help a patron but was soon back at your side with jest in her voice. "You do look lovely today, y/n."

"Thank you, Ada," you laughed lightly. "I feel like there's an ask coming on."

"There is actually. You may or may not know this, but I cherish our friendship very much," Ada placed a hand over yours, and you looked up in surprise, "and there's a very important man in my life that I'd like you to meet." The shock on your face was evident. A look of realization came over her.

"Oh, no," she opened her mouth to address it when there was the most unlikely interruption.

"Hello, Ada." The call was accompanied by commanding footsteps, and you both turned to see who it was.

"Tommy Shelby in a library," she breathed the words in exhaustion.

"I need to borrow a book about the Russian Revolution," the man announced.

"Shelby?" You questioned. You knew the name, but were so far removed from that life that it didn't even register that Peter meant that Ada wasn't a Thorne after all. She was a Shelby, a Peaky Blinder. Her head whipped around and you could have sworn she gulped before sighing dejectedly and walking to help who you assumed was her brother. You made yourself scant, continuing shelving, but Thomas Shelby's refusal to use the proper voice level allowed you to hear just enough as you located a shelf near them.

"He was nice, maybe I'd like to see him again. Would I be able to do that?" Ada looked at her brother, expectantly. You quietly shelved the book, but she noticed you as you turned. Ada closed her eyes, seemingly in frustration, and sighed momentarily. You supposed she was speaking about the man she'd wanted to meet. Perhaps a husband if she was a Thorne.

Unfortunately, you left before seeing her again on your shift, and it was the weekend.

There was a picnic, but the part of you who acknowledged the soreness in your chest at the idea of Ada being married and you flirting so recklessly made you stay home. You were at the tail end of Sir Conan Doyle's latest mystery anyway. For all your love of it, you were a slow reader, and you'd need ample time to finish. That was the end of that, you concluded. But it wasn't. You kept thinking about going when you were working and reading and daydreaming. You didn't go after all, and you felt sad about it. Your apartment you'd worked so hard to afford alone felt too quiet. It wasn't until Monday you realized that it was actually your world that felt too quiet and it was only Ada saying "good morning" that turned the sound back on.

"You weren't at the picnic." She said softly, and almost painfully, as she walked into the small kitchen area where you were alone and waiting for the tea to boil.

"No, I had... something." You stumbled of your words. You were both quiet, and you'd taken a particular interest in your shoes until you got your nerve. "Are you married?"

"No," she answered quickly. When you looked up, you caught the redness of her cheeks as she flushed in embarrassment. "I was. I'm a widow." She answered truthfully. You nodded and digested the answer.

"And that was your,"

"My brother, yes. Thomas Shelby." She answered. You nodded again. Looking at your shoes again, you thought how to word your next question. Before you could, she answered it quietly. "There is no man I'd like to see again. It wasn't how it sounded. I wanted, and still want, you to meet my son, Karl."

"After Karl Marx?" You looked up knowingly with an eyebrow raised. For the first time, it was Ada who seemed more nervous than you. She nodded, letting out a light chuckle. You nodded again in understanding, this time while fighting a smile. "So you used to chase rats with a revolver?"

"As a matter of fact, I did." She laughed as the kettle finished. She brought two mugs over for you to pour into, now seeming more relieved. "So what suits me better? Thorne or Shelby?"

"I think Ada is just perfect," you said. You poured, and when you looked up, you were almost startled by the thoughtfulness in her gaze. It was her turn to ask,

"Tonight, are you free?"

"Yes."

"Fantastic."

#Peaky Blinders Fic #peaky blinder imagine #Ada Shelby #Ada Shelby Imagine #ada shelby x reader #Tommy Shelby Imagine #m-pseudonym scribble scrabbles

[overwatch-does-stuff]

The Adventures of McCree Holmes and Sigma Watson- Vol. 1

Settle around, y'all. You've wanted to hear my stories for some time. It's about time I got around to tellin' em. There's a lot of interesting stories in this world, with witches in the wilds, and kings with their castles, but I believe I have my own unique view of things.

Back in my youth, I was never the smartest type. Nor was I the normal type, or the bully type, or any other kind'a type. For I knew I was different. I always had a nose for justice that needed servin', and boy, was I eager to serve it. My first official case was on the elementary school playground, helping Ms. Sally Watson of the second grade find her missin' dolly. After a long, investigative trail over several recesses, it turned out that the school bully, Norma Jane of the fifth grade, had taken dolly and was holdin' her for ransom. I socked that brat Norma square in the jaw. But I digress. The much more interesting stories I have to share are in my later years. My method of dispensing justice, turns out, was needed in all of these local towns around here. People went missin' all the time. Others, murdered. And so they called upon me, Detective Jesse Sherlock McCree Holmes, to solve their mysteries and to dole out justice to those who tried to shirk it. It's been an interesting job, to say the least. Sometimes, the culprit shined as clear as day, and it was obvious who deserved to go for a tumble. Other times, the mystery went on for days. Weeks. Even months. There's still a few that I haven't been able to solve to this very day. And there would be a lot more of those unsolved ones if it wasn't for the partner I met along the way. Fate is a funny thing, ain't it?

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

"Detective McCree Holmes! It's good that you have finally arrived!"    The mayor of the village was a short and stout man. Rumor had it that he spent most of his days in his workshop, tinkering away with gadgets and gizmos rather than run his town, but McCree Holmes was not one to judge a man by his rumors.    "Howdy, Mr. Lindholm. What seems to be the problem?" The mayor's face fell. "There's been a murder. That's why I sent out messengers to bring you here. Our local sheriff has the suspect detained, but-"    "If you've already solved it, then why did you call me?" McCree Holmes interrupted. Time wasters were always such a drag.    "Because something doesn't add up!" The Lindholm stomped his foot. "I called you here to do your job. You will be rewarded. I could fix up that gun for you, for example." McCree Holmes laughed and brought his pistol out of the holster on his hip. He gave it a quick spin. "Peacekeeper here is in no need of repairs. But, I'll still check out this case for you."    The mayor gave a relieved sigh before leading him to the scene of the crime. The torchlights flickered in the streets, and a hollow wind blew through town. No one was out and about. That was always the first sign that the killer was still loose, even if it seemed the culprit had been caught. An individual person would deny it, but people as a whole group always knew it in their guts when something was wrong.    They approached the front of a tall building that seemed to be a restaurant. The lights within the building had been dimmed, as if the fire and torches had went out on their own. No one had been in it for a few days, at least. The reason for that was just outside the front door.    The outline of a small body, done crudely in hay, was still stained with blood. It looked as if the body had been sprawled out when it had fallen, suggesting a sudden drop as the person panicked and tried to catch themselves. Hmm.    "Last night, one of my children-" The mayor stopped to sniff. "-One of my children suddenly fell."    "Fell?" McCree Holmes raised an eyebrow.    "As if from the sky!" The mayor cried.    "So, they were pushed off the roof, you think?" It made some sense, with how the body was laid.    "No! Why would my child have been up on the roof? That doesn't make sense. No, it was almost as if he had been picked up and thrown back down by the gods, or something. . ." The mayor trailed off again, tears in his eyes. "But! We have a suspect!"    "Can you show me this suspect?"    The mayor lead him again to the sheriff's office. Instantly, the logo on the sign was familiar to McCree Holmes. It was the sheriff's badge of Talon! He could never figure out why any town worth their salt would employ Talon to help police their towns, but he supposed that some folks didn't know any better. Literally, some people didn't know what Talon was, and what their agenda was. Mayor Lindholm was likely too caught up in making tools to realize. If Talon was involved in all of this, then things just got a lot more interesting.    They entered the office and were greeted by red-bandanna-faced guards. Typical Talon. McCree Holmes shot them a short glare as he passed by.    "Sheriff Ogundimo, Detective Holmes has finally arrived." The mayor shouted into the building.    From the back, McCree Holmes heard familiar footsteps. Out from the shadows (seemingly,) stepped Doomfist. Their eyes met and they gave each other a knowing, glaring look.    "Ah, Jesse." Doomfist's deep voice reverberated throughout the building. "It is. . . a pleasant surprise to see you here."    "Don't mention it. I'm here for the case only." He replied sternly.    "Good, then I believe we can work together. Although, I have already found the culprit of the crime." Doomfist walked leisurely over to a group of cells in the far corner.    "Is that so?" McCree Holmes said under his breath. He followed.    The first two cells were empty, but in the third sat the figure of a man, curled up and shivering in the corner. Was he weeping?    "The suspect, soon to be confirmed as a criminal by your superior judgement, you see," Doomfist's voice dripped with a sarcastic edge, "is the town madman, only known to the world as Sigma."    At the mention of the name, the man in the cell looked up. He muttered something under his breath and gave them a nervous glance. His eyes were frenzied and sunken into his face. His head was bald, McCree Holmes now noticed, and his body thin. He was a pitiful sight, that was for sure.    "So. . . you're saying that this crazy old man pushed a child off a building?" McCree Holmes looked back to Doomfist. "What's the motive?"    "He doesn't need a motive, can't you see that? He is insane. His lunacy disconnects him from reality. And, he didn't even push the child."    "Case closed, then?"    "No." Doomfist looked him in the eye. "Sigma, in a fit of mania, lifted the child above his head and pounded them back into the ground, with only a twitch of his hand."    That was enough to make McCree Holmes gasp out loud. Magic? This old man had magic? Magic was a discipline, an art. Someone just throwing magic around was highly unusual.    "You've got to be kiddin' me." He shook his head. "This ol' fellow can't have magic. The building was just nearby. Someone could have easily pushed the child off."    "Mr. Holmes, with all of your brilliance," more dripping sarcasm from Doomfist, of course, "you must be able to see all of the evidence. Talk to the eyewitnesses of the murder. They all saw what he did. The case is closed. The rest of Talon will arrive shortly to take Sigma away to a place where he can properly be detained."    That was it. Talon definitely had an outside motive here to get the old man arrested. McCree Holmes steeled his resolve. Somethin' fishy was going on down here, that he could feel. He looked back into Sigma's cell. Something didn't add up here.    The mayor bounced with impatience. "Um, if you two are working on the case, I think I'll go now. I do have a funeral to plan, and, um, I'd rather not be around my child's murderer."    McCree Holmes turned to him and put a hand on his shoulder. "Of course, Mr. Lindholm. I'll get everything figured out for you. I promise that whoever it was that got your child is gonna pay. That I swear." --------------------------------------------------------------------- Everyone in the town I asked said the same damn thing. That last night, at around ten o'clock, they heard the Lindholm child screamin'. They looked out their windows or looked down the street to see the child falling. They also saw Sigma floating near the corner of an alleyway, lifting both of his palms in the air and humming some kind'a song. After the child hit the ground, he had floated back into the alley. So, the eyewitnesses had come to a unanimous conclusion, it seemed. The only inconsistent detail I picked out was where Doomfist had been during the whole situation. Some said they saw him on the street, chasing after Sigma as he ran. Others said they saw him up on the roof, trying to catch the child when the kid had been floating up. Another person, the bartender, said he had been in the neighboring bar before the whole thing had started and had stayed there with his drink! Still, something bugged me. Call it what you will. Intuition. Fate. The Universe (in the words of my future partner), whatever. But something wasn't right. I decided that I was missin' an important perspective. So, I went to go ask the suspect himself. ---------------------------------------------------------------------   "Why don't I talk to the man himself?" McCree Holmes was back at the sheriff's office, gesturing inside the cell with the man.    "You would get hurt. He is dangerous. If you wish to subject yourself to him, though, be my guest." Doomfist gave a grim smile, and turned to get the key.    As McCree Holmes set foot inside the cell, Doomfist locked the door behind him. The noise of the door opening and closing startled Sigma, who was now staring directly at him. Something about the man's expression seemed to draw McCree Holmes in. Despite everything that had been said about the old man, he seemed more scared than anything. McCree Holmes felt a pang of sympathy. He walked over and sat down next to him.    "Hey." He gave a simple greeting as he looked over.    Sigma flinched away from him, scooting himself further into the corner. He was by no means a small man, so the fact that he had managed to crunch himself into such a tiny space was a feat within itself.   "I heard that something happened to you." McCree Holmes tried a lighter tone. He tugged his serape over the gun holster on his hip.    "I-I." Sigma began. "I couldn't save him."    "You couldn't save who?" he asked.   Sigma's hands trembled. "He was falling, the small one. I couldn't catch him. I couldn't catch him in time."    "Couldn't catch him? Do you know why he was falling?"    "I couldn't catch him. I couldn't catch him! The universe wouldn't cooperate- no, I was unwilling to cooperate with it, o-or." Sigma brought his hands up to his face. "I couldn't focus and I couldn't save him and it's my fault."   McCree Holmes reached over and put a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, hey, slow down there, pardner. It can't be your fault."  "No no no, you don't understand, it would have been so easy, but my focus slipped." he hissed the last word. "Everything slips away from us. Our time, our sanity, our dreams, our focus. . ."    "Did you make the child fall?" McCree Holmes tapped his shoulder.    Sigma looked into his eyes again, with the same panicked and frenzied look. "I could not catch him! Of course it was my fault!"    "But was the kid fallin' before you thought to catch him?" McCree strengthened his voice, causing Sigma to flinch.    "Well, um. . . yes. Yes he was. From the roof." His voice was almost a whisper.    From the roof. Of course it was from the roof! The one thing none of the spectators had told him was from where the child had fallen. Doomfist had insisted that Sigma had picked the kid up, but none of the eyewitnesses confirmed that theory.    "Listen, little buddy." McCree Holmes realized that Sigma was at least thirty years his senior, but that didn't matter at the moment. "You did everythin' you could. You tried your best. It's not your fault that the kid's gone. I'm gonna to get to the bottom of this, I promise."    Sigma stuttered out a few syllables, but nothing was incomprehensible. He gave up at his attempt at words, and gave a small, cautious smile instead.    "Just one last thing," McCree Holmes returned the smile, "could you be so kind as to tell me why the kid fell off the roof in the first place?"    "Oh!" Sigma shook his head once and his eyes focused again. "Of course. The man who let you into my cell pushed him off." -------------------------------------------------------------------- Of course the damn bastard did! I only knew of a few fellows who would do such a twisted thing, and Doomfist was right at the top of that list. But, unfortunately, all the evidence I had for that conclusion was the words of a possibly crazy old man who everyone thought was the murderer and the feeling in my gut. That wasn't exactly evidence to persuade the villagers of the town that their current sheriff was a lying cheat. I had to find more. I mentioned earlier that the eyewitness testimonies as to where Doomfist had been during the incident had been spotty. So, I decided to check all of the places that had been mentioned in their descriptions. I checked the bar, I checked the alleyway, nothing. The most important spot, of course, would be the roof of the restaurant. I had a bit of difficulty getting to that one. . . --------------------------------------------------------------------    "Nope. I can't let you up there."    The bartender stood in front of the stairway, her arms crossed.    "Mrs. Lindholm, ma'am," McCree Holmes pleaded. "Please. I'm trying to solve the murder of your kid-"    "The murderer has been found, hasn't he? Go home!" She pointed to the door.    "It wouldn't be right for the real killer to get away, now would it?!" He took a step back. "Just let me onto your roof and I can make a quick jump over to the restaurant's. Quick and easy. I wouldn't be poking around in none of your business."    "The real killer was that horrible man, Sigma! Our sheriff has already arrested him. Go home." She repeated, less stern this time.    Call it intuition. Call it fate. Call it the universe. Something wasn't right here either. In the corner of his eye, McCree Holmes noticed two shady looking fellows positioning themselves near the door. Other than them, the bar was empty. A table near them had been turned over on its side not to long ago, with beer stains still wet on the ground. Funny, shouldn't that have been cleaned up by now?    "No. I don't think I will." He eyed the two people behind him. "There's something going on here, ma'am. I won't leave it be."    The bartender's posture dropped, and her voice was a whisper. "Just go. Get out of here. Doomfist doesn't like anyone meddling in his business. Leave, before. . ."    The two people by the door reached into the necks of their jackets and pulled red bandannas over their faces. Their right hands reached down to deep pockets on their hips.    McCree Holmes whipped around. Peacekeeper was already in his hand. He pointed it at the two cloaked figures. "I don't like where this is going."    Instantly, the two figures darted behind the tipped table, using it as cover. McCree Holmes fired a single shot, but the table was too thick to pierce all the way through. Reaching back and grabbing the bartender's hand, he ran towards the cover of the bar. Shots echoed through the air, but none of them hit their mark.    One they were behind the bar, McCree Holmes threw the bartender down and motioned for her to stay quiet. He ducked down as well, narrowly avoiding some bullets that pierced the air where his hat would have been. He sent a quick prayer of thanks to his lucky stars that Talon goons had such pathetic aim.    But, bullets were still bullets, and still quite deadly. A person was a big target. One would find their mark eventually. McCree peeked above the counter and fired a few more shots, only to have to duck down again when the fire was returned. This was going nowhere.    Underneath the counter, there was a bottle of some sort of alcohol. Perfect. He grabbed the bottle by its neck and undid the cork. The bartender gave him a questioning stare. McCree Holmes smirked and took a sip of the bottle. He then got out a thick string out of one of his pockets, and stuck it in the bottle. He put the cork back on.    "I hope you fellows don't mind sharing a Molotov cocktail. I've only got one!" He called out as he crawled to the edge of the bar.    He rolled the bottle across the floor, and its momentum stopped just past the tipped-over table. There was screaming, and both of the Talon goons ran out from behind the table. McCree Holmes stood up and gunned them both down as they ran.    The bar was dead silent. He blew the smoke from the barrel of his pistol, before walking out from behind the bar. He first went over to the front door and locked it. Then, he walked over the bodies of the goons and over to the table. He picked up the bottle of alcohol from the ground, uncorked it, tossed the string away, and took another swig.    The bartender slowly and shakily stood up behind the bar.    "Hey, how about we talk about what just happened over a cuppa?" McCree Holmes gestured with the bottle. -------------------------------------------------------------------- It turns out those Talon goons were stationed their by Doomfist, to keep anyone from getting up to the roof. Mrs. Lindholm was threatened by an anonymous source not to let anyone up there, otherwise more of her kids might suffer from "accidents". Just thinkin' about what Doomfist did makes me spittin' mad. You're gonna have to get me a drink if you want me to calm down enough to continue with this story. That's better. Anyways, over a cup of whiskey, she broke down and told me about the threats, Talon, and everything. She also cried a lot about how much she missed her kid, about how sad all of her other kids were over their dead sibling. She said that their oldest, Brigitte, was taking the news the hardest. After our little talk she told me she felt much better. I considered giving Brigitte a visit to provide a bit of my therapy as well, but I decided that I couldn't endanger another Lindholm like that right now. Doomfist was after my hide, that was certain. Especially after I found what was on the rooftop. --------------------------------------------------------------------    The restaurant was higher up than most other buildings in the town, even the mayor's office. It was still quite a climb to get up to its roof even from the top of the bar. Supposedly, when the restaurant was built, it advertised "sky high views" as a part of the dining experience. An interesting tidbit, but nothing important to the case right now, other than the fact that it meant the roof was tall enough to be a lethal fall.    McCree Holmes grunted as he pulled himself up over the side of the lipped roof. He rolled onto the wooden planks and sat there for just a few moments more, before sitting up and wiping the sweat off his forehead with his hat.    He looked over to the far edge of the flat roof, the edge facing the street. Just behind the big sign advertising the restaurant was a table, covered in paper notes. He approached it.    The papers were written in some sort of code, but the Talon logo was plastered all over them. He'd have to decipher it later, though that process might take days-    "Perhaps this will help?"    McCree Holmes flinched around, drawing Peacekeeper and pointing it in the direction of the person who spoke. Right in his sights stood the old man, Sigma.    "Please, don't shoot!" Sigma winced and closed his eyes.    McCree Holmes lowered his revolver. "What in the sam hill are you doin' here?!"    "I don't know what a sam hill is, but I got worried about you. Doomfist is not a nice man. He has a tendency to hurt people to get what he wants." Sigma replied.    He thought back to the goons in the bar. "Yeah, I know. But what are you doing here? You're supposed to be in a cell."    "Well, yes, but," Sigma scratched the back of his head, "the lock really wasn't that hard to bend, and-"    "You could be in serious trouble for breaking out." McCree Holmes wanted to tear his hair out. "I'm trying to clear your name! You ain't making this any easier!"    Sigma flinched and turned away, looking up into the sky.    "How did you even get up here?"    "Ah, you see, that's an interesting story." Sigma turned back to face him again. "I felt that there was something that I could do to help! So, I sneaked out of my cell and over to Doomfist's desk and-"    "Get to the point." He finally holstered his gun.    "I grabbed this."    Sigma extended his hand to offer a crumpled piece of paper. McCree Holmes took it, and spent a good minute or so folding it back straight. On the paper was a list of letters, and a list of corresponding symbols. He turned around to the Talon papers again. The symbols matched up perfectly.    "Is it what you needed?"    He turned back to Sigma, who still hadn't moved.    "Yeah, actually." He blinked. "How did you know to get this?"    Sigma relaxed into a neutral stance. "The universe told me." -------------------------------------------------------------------- The universe. It was a phrase I would learn to get used to, but in that moment I was understandably incredulous. In all reality, Sigma had probably just overheard Doomfist mentioning the code at some point. In the future I would learn that not everything he did could be so easily justified, but back then I was a different man. I needed a reason for everything. Anyways, the sheet was a perfect deciphering tool. It even had Doomfist's name signed onto it! Talon and its hidden bureaucracy. Sometimes its stupid little procedures were exploitable. The papers had a full, detailed disclosure about the plan to frame Sigma. It was the perfect evidence. I only had to worry about the citizens of the town shooting my new friend Sigma on sight. That, and despite the fact that I had evidence, it was still Doomfist's word against mine. That, and Talon was after Sigma, for reasons that weren't entirely clear. They were coming for him, soon. I had to make my stand before then. --------------------------------------------------------------------    "Hear ye, hear ye!" The mayor shouted throughout the square. "Sheriff Ogundimo is about to make his final proclamation about the murder!"    The citizens, all tucked together in one big crowd, stifled to silence. Doomfist stood at their very front, and despite having nothing to stand on, still commanded the event like he was on a stage.    "Townfolk of Ironclad," Doomfist addressed them, "I have indeed found out with certainty the answer you all were expecting. However, I have also found another shocking revelation."    McCree Holmes hid in the side alley and peered around the corner. Sigma floated in the air next to him ("Just a nervous habit," he said while apologizing).    "The town madman, Sigma, is the murderer." Doomfist continued.    The crowd went mad with booing and hissing. Sigma audibly flinched.    "But also. . ." Doomfist quieted them again with his smooth tone. A tone full of deceit and lies. "The ragged detective, McCree, helped him escape custody yesterday!"    The crowd gasped. Babies started crying.    "So, if you see either him or the criminal, you have my permission to shoot them on sight." The last words dripped with icy poison.    The time was now. McCree Holmes leaped from the alleyway and into view of the square. The crowd gasped again. One person pointed and shouted his name.    "Now wait just one mighty second!" He shouted to the crowd, waving his arms even though he already had their full attention.    "Look! A criminal appears!" Doomfist pointed.    "WAIT!" McCree Holmes shouted again. "Hear me out, like the decent folk you are!"    The crowd settled into an uneasy silence. He noticed that many of the folks in the crowd had a hand on their holsters.    "And what would you have to say for yourself?" Doomfist said coyly.    McCree Holmes pointed at him. "You. You lie to the people of this town. You know who really killed the Lindholm kid."    "Don't we all?" Doomfist gestured to the crowd.    McCree Holmes gave a quick signal to Sigma in the alleyway, before pointing to the crooked sheriff. "It's YOU!"    A bundle of papers was thrown out from the alleyway with unnatural speed. The bundle hesitated in midair, before exploding over the crowd. Papers, all of the Talon papers, were scattered to the people. Each one had been translated, with a copy of Doomfist's signed code key attached to the front.    The crowd all reached for the papers, and soon everyone had one. Their shock was audible as they read on. However, Doomfist didn't react. The same, smug grin still crossed his face.    "Is that all you have, detective?" He sneered. "Some fake papers to slander my name with?"    "These aren't fake. Otherwise you wouldn't have threatened Mrs. Lindholm to keep them secure, would you have?" McCree Holmes retaliated. He frantically scanned the crowd for her face. She was there, next to her husband, in the back. She looked away at the mention of her name.    "And did I threaten her?" Doomfist looked to her as well.    "I would say stationing two Talon goons to watch over her bar is enough of a threat." He really hoped that the bartender would back him up. He needed her.    She stood silently, holding her husband's hand. The crowd grew louder and louder with anticipation. McCree Holmes fired a single shot into the air to silence them.    Mrs. Lindholm finally lifted her head up. "The sheriff told me not to let anyone onto the roof. Then two men in Talon attire came to my bar and wouldn't leave. When the detective tried to go up to the roof, they shot at us."    She burst into tears and the crowd went wild. Everyone was shouting, everyone was pointing fingers. For just a moment, panic entered Doomfist's face. That was, before he raised his hand in the air and snapped his fingers.    A shot rang out. McCree Holmes dove back to the cover of the alleyway as Talon goons came pouring out of nearby buildings. Most of the civilians in the square started running away. Mr. and Mrs. Lindholm grabbed their children and held them close.    Back in the alleyway, McCree Holmes pulled out Peacekeeper once more. He didn't even remember Sigma was there until the old man tapped him on the shoulder, causing him to flinch.    "I can help." He said simply. "Do you want me to?"    McCree Holmes looked back for just a moment. "No. Stay here. It’s not safe."    "Alone in an alleyway where no one will see me if I get grabbed, thus rendering your mission to clear my name completely fruitless?"    "Okay, good point." He conceded. "New plan. Follow me, and don't get shot."    McCree Holmes looked both ways before peeking out of the alleyway and firing a few shots. One managed to hit its mark, and a single Talon goon fell over. There were about fifteen more to go, not counting Doomfist.    More bullets whizzed into the building they were hiding against. He looked back to Sigma. "Damn! We're pinned. You said you could do magic, right? Got a distraction?"    "Hold on." Sigma closed his eyes.    A rather strange feeling filled the air, and McCree Holmes struggled to keep down his lunch as it felt like he was falling. However, the feeling quickly faded. More noticeable was a glow of blue surrounding Sigma's now extended hand. The air around it warped, before something akin to a blue screen popped into existence in front of him.    "Here's a barrier! It's been so long since I’ve. . . I can't hold it forever, but hopefully it is useful." Sigma gestured to it.    The barrier extended out past the alleyway. McCree Holmes only paused for a moment before following it. The bullets of Talon pinged against it but did not get through. He entered a familiar shooting stance, and like clockwork, aimed down multiples of the goons, one falling after the other. However, the barrier began to shake and wobble after a few seconds of sustained fire, and McCree Holmes dived behind a nearby tree. He quickly reloaded his revolver.    It was then that Sigma came floating out of the alleyway. Only a few of the goons remained, but they all fired upon him. However, Sigma was never hit. McCree Holmes noticed that the bullets were actually being stopped in midair, just a few inches short of piercing any skin.    The enemies were just as distracted as McCree Holmes had been, so he used the opportunity to gun the rest of the down.    The only person left in the town square was Doomfist.    "Well, well, well. It seems you've outsmarted me this time, detective." He called out to him. "Would you like to come out to receive your prize?"    McCree Holmes came out from behind the tree, aiming Peacekeeper right at him. "We've got you. Put your hands up."    "Mr. detective, I believe you are pointing your gun at the wrong man. The criminal is over there." Doomfist gestured to Sigma.    Sigma visibly recoiled at the mention.    McCree Holmes did not move his aim. "Come on now. I'm not falling for that. Hands up."    "I am merely an acolyte of Talon, working to make this land a better place. That man over there is a weapon. Dangerous." Doomfist's lips curled into a smile. "He's been a murderer for a long time."    McCree Holmes looked over to Sigma for just a moment. The old man avoided his gaze and seemed to curl smaller still, hugging himself tightly and shaking his head. Tears streamed down his face. When McCree Holmes looked back over, however, Doomfist was already slipping into an alleyway. He fired a few shots in his direction, but it was pointless.    He did one final check of the area and holstered his revolver. Sigma was still suspended motionless in the air. He was muttering incessantly.    "Hey, pardner." McCree Holmes approached him slowly. "You okay?"    Sigma shook his head, and he dropped lower in the air.    "We did it. Doomfist and Talon are gone." He tried to smile.    Sigma lowered himself completely to the ground, but his knees buckled, and he fell forwards. McCree Holmes was too far away to catch him as he hit the ground. McCree Holmes rolled him over onto his back, only to find that his eyes were closed. He was out cold. -------------------------------------------------------------------- So, after all that, the mayor came up and congratulated me. It turns out the reason he had invited me here was because he had also been threatened and harassed by Doomfist. Inviting me was his last act of free will, and according to him, I had done swimmingly in convincing the rest of the town of Doomfist's crooked lies. A town holiday was declared and a celebration held in my honor. Despite that fact, I had to practically beg the town's doctor on my knees to get her to take Sigma in and make sure he was alright. People cheered for me in the streets- they always did- but my buddy didn't have the same luxury. All they would give him were nervous stares, as if he was gonna leap up and bite them, even when he was being carted on a stretcher past them. Sigma was fine, luckily. No injuries, no bullet holes. That was good. The doctor said that he was "drained" and didn't elaborate further. Something to do with his magic, I suppose. But while he laid there, unconscious, I made up my mind about something. --------------------------------------------------------------------    The room in the doctor's office was dusty as hell. Sunlight streamed in through a small window, catching on the particles that floated in the air. McCree Holmes had to pinch his nose to keep from sneezing. It didn't matter. A room was a room. He was lucky he was able to get one for the two of them.    Sigma was laid down on a lightly cushioned bed. His chest rose and fell softly. His eyes darted behind his closed eyelids, as if he was dreaming something exciting. After a while, though, his breathing increased slightly, and he started to move.   "Hey, pardner." McCree Holmes said softly.    Sigma's eyes fluttered open. He blinked rapidly for a few moments before looking around. "Where am I?"    "Don't worry, pardner. You're at the doctor's. You're okay, but she was gracious enough to let you stay until you woke up." McCree Holmes put a hand on his shoulder.    Sigma absentmindedly reached up and put his own hand over his.   "Say, you aren't that well-liked around here, are you?" McCree Holmes continued. "Something tells me that."    He let out a shaky breath. "You could say that. Are you leaving now, detective?"    "Perhaps." McCree Holmes smiled. "But first, I have something to settle with you."    "Did I do something?" He looked around nervously. "I'm sorry if I did something. It tends to happen-"    "No, no. Don't worry. It's a deal of the more personal sort."    Sigma began to tremble.    "Relax, relax, pardner. No need to get yourself in a twist. All I wanted to say was. . ."    He trailed off. Sigma sat up in the bed, and crossed his legs. He looked him in the eye and waited patiently for a response, like a child at school. He was funny like that.    ". . . I want you to come along with me." McCree Holmes finished.    Sigma's eyes went wide. "You want me with you? Are you certain?"    "Absolutely, pardner. You've got an eye and an intuition perfect for solvin' mysteries." He gestured.    "Are you sure about this? You're not just offering this because you think I'm dangerous?" Sigma grew quiet.    "Heavens, no!" McCree Holmes nearly laughed. "What got that idea into your head? You don't seriously believe what Doomfist said, do you? You don't look like you could harm a fly."    Sigma's expression fell. "I. . ."    "It doesn't matter is all I'm sayin'. The decision to come with me is up to you, of course, but I think hittin' the road would be a lot better than shulking around this tiny town for the rest of your life." McCree Holmes got serious again.    "If you're really, truly sincere, then. . . I accept. If you don't think I would be a burden." Sigma was apologetic again.    "Well, the first lesson in traveling with me is that I mean what I say, and that I say what I mean. Don't doubt that." He wagged his finger at him.    "Sorry. Of course."    "Lesson number two- stop apologizing so much. You haven't done nothin' wrong yet."    "I'm sor- I mean, okay."    They paused and looked at each other. After a period of tense staring, they broke out into laughter. McCree Holmes slapped his knee.    "Well, pardner, I have a feeling we are gonna get along just swimmingly." He smiled.    Sigma simply beamed back. -------------------------------------------------------------------- Call it intuition. Call it fate. Call it the universe, if you're my buddy Sigma. But from that moment on, he and I were joined at the hip. Partners. It was good to have a partner again, after spending so long alone. He had a much better eye for the subtle connections of everything than I did. Sure, he had his off days, days where the universe didn't talk to him right. Days where he couldn't or wouldn't stop muttering about mysterious things in either his past or what he thought the future would be. But most of the time, he was a good detective, a good man, and a good friend. I'll tell you another story, the story about the time he managed to sniff out how a scoop of peanut butter was connected to three previously-thought-to-be unrelated murders, another time. The night is growing old, and that drink you gave me was mighty strong.

#overwatch #overwatch au #probably set in the halloween terror fantasy universe #sigma #mccree #overwatch fanfiction #siebren de kuiper #jesse mccree #let's call this au #McCree Holmes and Sigma Watson #not a ship

[nobody-wants-ice-cream]

The Umbrella Academy in: The Triwizard Tournament

Chapter 5.1 Number Five’s Research

Thank you @seven-misfits and @tehmoonofficial for your amazing beta skills!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21340549/chapters/54740578#workskin

Five couldn’t sleep after his encounter with Reginald. It had been 45 years since he had been to private training, but seeing the restraints again had brought back the scared thirteen-year-old he thought the apocalypse had trained out of him. 

Reginald used to tie him in any sort of restraint, like chains or a straightjacket, to an electric chair. If Five couldn’t jump out, he would be electrocuted. It had taken thirty years of drunken conversations with Dolores to finally admit that he and his siblings were abused as children. Being back in that room was terrifying in a way Five had forgotten. Its sudden reintroduction was a blast of ice being poured down his back. 

Instead of sleeping, Five decided to look up a charm to brew coffee- which ended up being Calida Capulus while pointing his wand at a mug with coffee grains in hot water- and then set to work reviewing documents in Reginald’s office. That coffee Allison got him would prove to be very useful. 

Speaking of Allison, her rumor would work in his favor. Reginald couldn’t touch them. More importantly, if Five was caught, then he couldn’t be punished with individual training. He could browse Reginald’s files enough to paint a pretty decent picture of what their lives were like in this universe. 

Just after they turned twelve, the seven of them became superheroes. Vanya and Ben were their heavy hitters. One particular note disturbed Five. “When Number Seven’s powers become too much to contain, I will have to stun her and put her in the isolation chamber. Her powers are essential,” read the disturbing red journal from their toddler years. 

According to 400 Offensive Spells, “The stunning spell should not be used on subjects under 100 pounds or 45 killograms as the magic will overwhelm the castee and may cause permanent damage to the nervous system or magical core”. Vanya was placed under this spell as a very young child over and over again. Five had a small idea that Vanya’s powers prevented the damage from being permanent. He didn’t know how that would be possible, but that irrational hope stopped him from murdering Reginald in cold blood. 

The Commission made him a killer, but he never enjoyed his work. However, after hearing the atrocities Reginald committed on his siblings, he was willing to make an exception. Stunning Vanya was only the tip of the iceberg. The things done to himself and to the version of himself native to this universe were barely a blip in his anger. 

Five skipped around to his section. The book said that this Five’s interest in time travel was a fleeting interest that went away when Reginald brought him books on the runes to create a time-turner. When Five looked up what a time-turner was, he was disappointed in his other self. A device that takes you back or forward a few hours was a party trick compared to what he had the potential to do. At least this version of himself didn’t get himself stuck in the apocalypse. That would have been difficult.

If I time traveled now would I end up appearing here in this universe or would I be stuck in the future in mine? Five mused while moving around some of the papers that surrounded him. 

That was the last bit of semi-coherent thought Five had. He passed out surrounded by books and papers. Specifically, blueprints for a magically expanded Minerva Aircraft, complete with six dorms and a master bedroom. 

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

“Five. Five. Five. Wake up. Five, wake up. Five, you can’t keep doing this, man." It was Luther being his personal alarm clock again. 

“Mu, wus goin on? Five more mins, Luth,” Five tried while rolling over. 

“Nope! Get up.” Luther pulled Five up and managed to get him sitting up while slumped against Reginald’s desk. 

“Five, how many times have you fallen asleep here? It’s been months, what more do you possibly have to find?” Luther asked. Five had spent his nights in August and September in Reginald’s study reading his notes and pursuing magazines and newspapers that mentioned the Umbrella Academy in any way. 

“When was the last time you slept in your bed, Five. This isn’t healthy." Luther snapped his fingers in front of Five’s face, “Hey! Focus.”

Five opened his eyes again. He had been up until three in the morning due to a teen magazine bender. Those vapid things were somewhat addictive. Not that he would admit it to anyone. 

“I need to know what’s going on.” Five did feel lethargic. He worked and worked until he passed out trying to figure out this timeline. If they wanted to stay off the Commission’s radar, they needed to keep the timeline as consistent as possible. Five struggled to keep his head upright. 

“Hey, did you know the seven of us are the only ones Dad adopted? Everybody else is a boarding student.” Five shared. He was starting to feel more alert. He reached for his mug and the Bunsen burner he used to heat up his coffee water. 

“We have thirty minutes before breakfast. You should clean yourself up,” Luther said before leaving the room. 

Five scowled. Luther didn’t have to get him up this early. Five decided that teleporting to the bathroom was a bad idea this early in the morning and decided to walk so he could find an unoccupied one. He stared at the floor and shuffled his feet like a pissed off thirteen year-old the whole time. At least they weren’t required to stick to one bathroom like in his youth.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&

“The elusive old man finally decides to join us! How was your bender? Any wild stories? Amputee hookers? Or were you holed up in Dad’s office the whole time?” Klaus greeted. His bright smile and teasing words were grating. Five scowled at him and picked up the carafe of coffee that Mom had taken to leaving at their table. 

“Well, Klaus. I actually had a wild time. You know teleporting a girl or three in the room wasn’t too difficult,” Five snarked back. Five wasn’t actually interested in the whole sex thing, but Klaus didn’t know that. In fact, nobody except Dolores knew that the idea repulsed him. Besides, Five had a feeling that telling his siblings that he had been up all night reading J-14 and Seventeen would lead to more judgement that he just wasn’t prepared to deal with. 

“Did you actually?” Luther looked green in the face. He put down his knife and fork and gave Five his full attention. 

Five raised his eyebrows and took a sip of coffee. He would neither confirm nor deny. 

“Right, um, moving on. You missed Pogo announcing that we were to report to the foyer for an announcement. One through Twelve. It’s supposed to be super important,” Allison attempted. 

“Who cares? Five, did you-” Ben was cut off by Mom announcing that it was 7:53 A.M. 

“We better go and see what the old man wants.” Five teleported out of the room and into the foyer. 

He was met with Number Ten who looked up from her book in surprise when Five teleported into the room. 

“Hey, Five. I still get surprised when you do that. Any ideas for what the Headmaster wants to talk about?” Ten must have left breakfast early, “Thirteen and Fourteen were pretty pissed that they aren’t included in whatever this is.”

“I don-”

“You know, he hasn’t really talked to his seven science experiments in a while. Did you guys do something? Maybe Three heard a little rumor?” Ten was starting to piss him off. Her tone was condescending in a way he threw people’s heads through walls for. 

“Se-” He was cut off by everyone else entering the room. He was going to question the nickname ‘seven science experiments.’ As if she had the right to call them that!

“Hey Five, hey Ten,” Number Eleven greeted. Eleven was tall, thin, and very good looking. They were extremely androgynous, hence the neutral pronoun. They wore their uniform with the sort of confidence that Five had only seen in himself, Hazel, or Cha Cha. For a split second, Five wondered if Eleven had ever killed anybody, but then he saw Eleven had uncalloused, delicate hands. Those were not the hands of an assassin.  

“Do you think something went wrong? Maybe the rumor-” Allison whispered. Five gestured towards Ten with pointed expression so Allison would shut up. 

Just as an awkward silence was draping itself around the room, Sir Reginald Hargreeves walked in. He stalked around the room and did not look at Five or any of his siblings. 

“The Triwizard tournament is a grand and noble tradition that has lasted throughout the ages, until modern history. You students are amongst the lucky few with the honor and the privilege of submitting your names to the Goblet of Fire. Do not disappoint me. Report back to breakfast for your schedules!” Classic Reginald Hargreeves. Short, simple, and as cold as possible. 

Immediately, whispers broke out amongst the strangers. Excited curiosity and nerves filled the room. Five hoped that it wouldn’t be him. He had proven himself already. Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, and Twelve filed back into the kitchen. Diego left with them.

Luther addressed the group with, “We should really plan-”

“Haven’t we planned enough?” Klaus clapped Luther on the shoulder and flounced after Diego. 

“Why is it still a Triwizard tournament if we’re joining as the fourth school?” Ben mused behind him. 

“Well,” Vanya piped up to his left, “Quadwizard tournament sounds pretty stupid.”

“It sounds like lazy writing to me,” Allison twirled her dark hair around her index finger, “Like some poor marketing executive or some bad author didn’t want to come up with a better name.”

&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Several weeks later, the Academy was buzzing in unrelenting energy and unmitigated chaos as numbers One through Twelve packed their belongings in the single, large suitcase they had each been allowed to bring. 

“Ben! Have you seen my left- never mind!” said Allison. 

“Ow! Sorry, Seven,” said an unknown person. The voice was female, so could have been Eight, Ten, or Twelve. Or possibly Eleven. Five didn’t know what they looked or sounded like today yet. 

Diego could be heard sneering, “Watch, where you’re going, Twelve.”

Five calmly packed the basics. The Commission taught him well. It took him two minutes to pack some uniforms, toiletries, and his school supplies. The same could not be said for the others who were frantically putting things in their suitcases. The Minerva would have dorms once they landed, but there was no point in bringing anything to decorate with. Ben would probably bring enough to make the space feel normal. 

They were going to be sharing rooms in number order. One and Two, etc. Five took a moment to feel bad for Vanya, who would be sharing with Number Eight. 

Then a thought occurred to Five. Five had spent months researching how to assimilate into this universe. Why not try to go home? 

As soon as it was there, the thought was gone. This was home. His siblings were here. Right? Five felt disoriented. His thoughts moved through his brain like jello. Then he simply stopped thinking about it. 

What was he doing? Packing for the tournament! According to Ben and Luther, this would be a dangerous ordeal. The goblet would pick the best candidate. If anyone was going to be picked, it would have to be him for his siblings’ sake. He was the oldest and most experienced. 

Then he remembered that he had already proven himself. So why did he feel the overwhelming desire to win this tournament?

&&&&&&&&&&&&&

On the morning of October 30, 1994, twelve children and their Dad/Headmaster boarded the Minerva Aircraft on their way from The Umbrella Academy to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. 

The plane ride was almost completely silent. There was still chatter, as Reginald was piloting the Minerva.

Allison and Five were poring over a wizarding teen magazine called Witch Weekly, which was distributed worldwide, while speaking in low voices that couldn’t be heard over the plane’s engine. 

“Since when are you the heartthrob?” Allison poked him and then the picture of him surrounded by tiny hearts. 

“I don’t know! That’s weird right? I guess in this universe I didn’t disappear when I was thirteen and now people think I’m attractive or something? I don’t get it. Who was the,” Five put up air quotes, “‘heartthrob’ in our universe?”

“Klaus and Luther had pretty strong followings,” Allison paused to think, “When we were fifteen, Ben had some sort of cult? And I was the only girl so...yeah. Oh, and Diego was popular towards the end, but no one could figure out why.”

Klaus was looking at the magazine in front of Allison and Five with interest. He raised his eyebrow at Five and gave a small wave before going back to his drawing. 

Eight, Nine, and Twelve were playing a card game a few rows above them. They were oblivious, unlike Ten and Eleven, who were talking in hushed voices and looking at Allison every now and then. Eleven’s hair was a bright shade of electric blue today. They had opted for lithe, feminine curves and the female uniform, but a very close cropped pixie cut. Five barely recognized them. Ten was attempting to ask Eleven to grow their hair longer so she could braid it. 

Luther was watching this argument with an apathetic look on his face, while Diego watched with interest. Maybe he thinks it will turn into a fight or something? 

Ben was completely oblivious to all of this and kept his nose stuck in Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them. 

“Please, Eleven! It will look really good,” Ten pleaded. 

“For the last time, no. Piss off, Ten.”

“Fine. Sorry. Eight! Can you deal me in?” Ten demanded.

“Yeah, sure,” Eight started shuffling her cards again. 

Diego looked somewhat disappointed at the de escalation and went back to sharpening his knives. 

“Hey, Three, Five! Can I borrow your Daily Prophet?” Eleven asked from across the aisle. 

Since they had already gone through all of their copies of that newspaper, Five said, “Sure,” and handed them the October 29th copy. It was the most recent thing in the pile. 

The rest of the plane ride passed like that. Eventually, Diego borrowed their magazines as well once he ran out of knives to sharpen. 

The Minerva flew on through the clear sky. 

#The Umbrella Academy #harry potter and the goblet of fire #after three months this fic is back

[thewannaone]

I really want more of the harry potter au! What friendships are there and stuff like that (I don't like hp so I dont know much about it)

Ok so:

Jisung- 7th Year Hufflepuff Headboy who was very confused as to how he managed to get Headboy even when every teacher and student constantly tells him how good he is at taking care of others. Not a Quidditch player but goes to every game to cheer on the others, lowkey biased for Gryffindor cause Daniel. Very good at Charms, he finds it easy to get the knack of little spells. Ironically terrible at Herbology and collapses on the table every time his plant ends up keeling over. Is friends with everyone regardless of house, spends every meal time sitting at a different table. Is always laughing with other students, regardless of year level. Can be seen often in the library with a younger student tutoring them in classes cause he just wants to help others. Has a unicorn hair wand and is a half Muggle, half Wizard. 

Sungwoon- 6th year Hufflepuff. Childhood friends with Gryffindor Taehyun and can always been seen together. Keeper for Hufflepuff Quidditch team and by his 6th year he’s finally gotten good at it. Is best at Divination even though he hates the subject, “I see myself failing my potions essay dammit.” Is miserable at potions, him and Taehyun often work together and it explodes in their faces. Has a Dragon Heartstring wand and comes from a Pure Blood family. 

Minhyun- 5th year Ravenclaw. Top of his grade. Rumor has it that hes part Veela which he has neither confirmed nor denied. Hangs out with a bunch of other beautiful students named Jonghyun, Minki and Dongho who everyone is too scared to approach cause they’re all very intimidating. They all later become Headboys and are the best at guiding and helping younger students. Is seen as cold by everyone but then you see him laughing with some first years and hugging them and everything is reconsidered. Likes Quidditch enough to go to games and have a professional team he stans but not enough to actually play. Would be best in the team if he did though. Unicorn Hair wand and Pure Blood family.

Ong- 5th year Gryffindor. Comes from a Muggle born family and when he got his letter was just “I knew I was better than everyone.” Star of the Gryffindor Quidditch team, main chaser. Is already going to be captain once next year. Very popular with everyone. Is a brilliant flyer, usually manages to win the match regardless of who catches the snitch. Also very good at Care of Magical Creatures cause he finds a lot of the terrifying animals fun. Worst subject is Magical History cause he usually falls asleep in class. Good friends with everyone but closest with fellow Gryffindor Daniel and Hufflepuff Jisung. Can often be seen laughing and messing around with the three of them in the court yard. Possibly has found the Marauders Map and uses it for Mischief™. Wand is Pheonix feather. 

Jaehwan- 4th year Ravenclaw. Another Muggleborn who was all set up to follow his dream to be a singer and go to music school when he got his letter. Initially was very disappointed until he realised just how amazing Hogwarts is. Very lonely at first, didn’t really interact with anyone on the train or in the first few months. Everyone thought he was quiet and shy. Slowly began opening up and everyone realised he was crazy. Wild goat laughter can be heard all throughout the Gryffindor common rooms and dorms. Part of the Frog Choir. Very good at potions and following the steps, very bad at Defence Against the Dark Arts, always ends up screaming. Sometimes goes and sits by the lake with his guitar and sings and any student passing by stops for a moment to listen. Is terrible at Quidditch but loves going to games and cheering for them all. Unicorn hair wand. 

Daniel- 4th year Gryffindor. The Jock™ Another chaser on the Quidditch team and him and Ong paired up are ruthless. Amazing flyer. Hogwarts Champion when the Tri-Wizard-Tournament comes around and has no idea how that happened. Accidentally adopted a first year named Woojin who now follows him everywhere. Comes from a Muggleborn family and was very in awe of everything in the wizarding world. Very good at Defence Against the Dark Arts, not too bad at everything else. Has 2 cats, 1 of which he snuck in, both of whom he never stops talking about and constantly showing pictures of to anyone that he’s talking to. Many, maaaaany female students have a crush on him which he is kinda confused about and Jisung just shakes his head at him. Dragon Heartstring wand. 

Jihoon- 3rd year Slytherin. Cute™. All his teachers love him, top of all his classes. Constantly competes against the best student in Gryffindor and their seeker Kim Samuel who he may or may not have a thing for. Is the seeker for the Slytherin team and is already very good for his age. Most students think he’s this perfect, sweet student but his friends know better. Is very weird and lowkey evil. Sometimes talks to the giant squid and mermaids in the windows of the Slytherin common room. Is very good at Dark Magic even though it’s usually an accident. Is a Parseltongue and makes friends with snakes everywhere he goes. Pheonix feather wand and Pureblood.

Woojin- 3rd year Gryffindor. Another one who was quite shy to begin with and then opened up and everyone realised he too was wild as hell. Beater on the Gryffindor team. Is terrible at writing essays regardless of subject. Wishes there were dance classes. Is pretty good at Astronomy cause he used to stargaze a lot as a kid. Friends with most students, especially the Slytherins Jihoon and Daehwi. Accidently turned Daehwi into an otter once and Daehwi didn’t talk to him for a week. Sometimes gets help from older students like Jong or Jisung with his homework. Comes from a Halfblood home with a Pheonix Feather wand.

Jinyoung- 2nd year Ravenclaw. Another possible Veela candidate. Transferred over from Beauxbatons after his first year and everyone was amazed at this beautiful new student. Is really just a nerd. Seeker for Ravenclaw and honestly terrible at it. Fell of his broom once in front of everyone and woke up in hospital to Jihoon laughing at him. Was paired with Guanlin for potions once and it exploded in his face, had to wear an eyepatch for a month. Best friends with Daehwi and is in the Slytherin common room more than the Ravenclaw one. Has lots of females in his class who like him and he’s completely oblivious. Dragon Heartstring wand.

Daehwi- Textbook Slytherin first year. From a Pureblood family, bit of a know-it-all. Thought he was gonna be the best in every one of his classes. Was wrong. Is half and half, very good at charms, transfiguration, defence against the dark arts; miserable at herbology, flying and care of magical creatures. Studies way too hard, spends most of his time in the library until Jihoon or Jinyoung drag him away. Never talks about the otter incident and will never admit he secretly enjoyed it. Everyone laughs when his patronous is later revealed to be an otter. Wants to become Minister of Magic and already has his life planned out for the next 10 years. Unicorn hair wand. 

Guanlin- 1st year Hufflepuff. Comes from a Pureblood family but he’s so clueless everyone thinks hes Muggleborn. Best friends with fellow Hufflepuff Seonho and is rarely separated from him. Is ok at flying and wants to try out for the Quidditch team next year with practise. Sneaks out in early mornings to fly. Terrible at potions, terrible at charms, terrible at transfiguration. Ok at herbology, enjoys talking to plants. Doesn’t talk much to humans, usually he just stands to the side while Seonho talks but then OngSung will do something and he’ll screech with laughter and everyones like “….Was that Guanlin?” Was given a Remembrall by Seonho for his birthday and it’s his favourite item that he owns. Dragon Heartstring wand. 

#Wanna One #Produce 101 #Kang Daniel #Lee Daehwi #Ong Seungwoo #Hwan Minhyun #Yoon Jisung #Park Jihoon #Park Woojin #Kim Jaehwan #Ha Sungwoon #Lai Guanlin #mine #answered #wanna one as

[silverynight]

Hi! May I ask for a Gramander story? Like, Newt lives with his father, a horrible and cruel man who hurts him but the boy meets Percy and he finds comfort in Percival, who helps him and hugs him? Maybe it's a little long but it's my first request and I would be so happy and tomorrow is my birthday so I can't sleep bc I'm nervous!!! Anyway. Thanks for your time. 💜💜💜💜

Percival never told anyone that when he knew he wanted to become an auror he also realized he was in love.

It was summer break and Percival only had 17 years old at the time; everyone was pressuring him to choose what path he was going to take to keep with his professional life, the truth was that he wasn’t sure and he didn’t want to end up working in something he didn’t like.

So he used to apparate in the woods, he enjoyed the peace that brought the nature to his mind. But one particular afternoon he discovered that peace was not the only good thing he could find in the woods; wildness and chaos were good too.

Because that was Newt to him; a mess in reddish curls with a wild personality that for some reason was completely irresistible to him.

Newt was 15 when he met him; Percival likes to close his eyes and try to recall that afternoon as best as he can, he enjoys drowning himself in every detail and sound he heard that day.

“Hey! Have you seen any wampus around here?” Percival got startled and immediately took his wand out his pocket; there was no one in front of him nor behind. So, where that voice had come from?

“I’m up here! Hi! My name’s Newt!” And then Percival saw one of the most beautiful boys he had ever seen sitting on a branch; a warm smile spread all over his features, on a face completely covered by adorable freckles. He jumped down the tree and walked towards him.

“Percival,” he blurted out his name after blinking like an idiot.

“Are you looking for a wampus too? You see, I read a book about them and it said they were common in these lands and since it’s my first time in America I thought I could go out and see one.”

Newt couldn’t stay still, even when talking with someone, he was constantly moving around, gesturing with his hands as he explained something he was passionate about. Percival loved that about him.

“Do you want to come with me?” He asked, Percival must’ve been quite distracted by the boy’s eyes because he didn’t know where they were going to go. Still, there was just one possible answer.

“Yes.”

They didn’t find any wampus that day, nor the next days they saw each other, but they enjoyed so much being together, they stopped caring about anything else.

Those were happy days for him, until he saw the marks. Newt had rolled up his sleeves because he had sworn he saw a bowtruckle and wanted to climb a tree to see it; just when Percival looked down to help Newt, his eyes caught the purple marks on his skin.

Percival Graves might be young, but he knew abuse; his mother’s friend used to come to the house and cry over her shoulder until she decided to report it. But it lasted long for Percival to learn that abuse was marks of fingertips over the skin, a black eye, a bruised lip or harsh words followed by a rough voice begging for forgiveness.

“Newt?”

The boy blushed when he followed the direction of his glance and quickly covered his arms again.

“It’s nothing,” he said, dismissing the subject with a wave of his hand. “I’m clumsy and I bump into things all the time.”

Percival was also familiar with that kind of response, but he didn’t pressure him. Without another word he approached Newt and hugged him, it only took a couple of seconds for the boy to finally relax in his arms. Percival knew in that moment, just when Newt buried his face in his neck, that he wanted to protect him and take care of him for the rest of his life. He also realized he wanted to do something for the people who couldn’t do it for themselves, he wanted to punish those who used power to hurt and abuse others.

He was going to be an auror.

Percival didn’t brought up that again, but he reminded Newt he could count on him, he could tell him anything and he’d try his best to help him. He also watched the boy closely, looking for any indication the situation was getting worse, because he was going to do something if that was the case.

Then, slowly, Newt started to trust him enough to tell him about the ‘incidents’ that happened in his house; he didn’t mention who was abusing him, but the details Percival made him think about a father figure.

“I was expelled from Hogwarts and he got mad,” he sobbed and Percival caressed his back whispering in his ear that he was not a failure, that he was brilliant and passionate and studying magical creatures was not something to be ashamed of.

“You have to report it, Newt. This is not okay.”

The boy shook his head, he was family; his mother had died, Theseus (his brother) was in England and he was the only one taking care of Newt.

“He’s sorry,” he said. “Told me he’d never do it again.”

Percival sighed and pulled Newt even closer. How to explain him that abusers always promised that and they never changed?

Then one day he saw Newt with a black eye and Percival decided, with the blood boiling in his veins, he had had enough.

“He usually doesn’t punched me in the face, it’s one of his rules,” Newt mumbled. “But he was so angry this time he forgot.”

“Take me to him,” Percival growled. “I’ll talk with him.”

But he wasn’t planning on just talking.

“No, Percy… please.”

“Newt, this has to stop. You can’t live like that. It’s not… He’s hurting you.”

“He’s sorry!”

They ended up arguing; Percival didn’t know what to do to help Newt. He thought about reporting it himself, but just when he suggested it Newt ran away and he never came back to the woods.

Later he found out he and his father went back to England.

Newt’s absence broke his heart.

***

It didn’t take long for Percival Graves to get a reputation; he was starting working as an auror at MACUSA and yet everyone who worked with him knew he was very strict, but he was especially harsh on abusers.

There were many rumors surrounding that fact, but none of them were close enough to him to confirm or deny them.

“Why you always look so grumpy, Graves?” Seraphina Picquery, Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, asked him, joking.

To which Percival only growled in response, making her chuckle.

“Your lover left you or what?”

She was just kidding; they all started to joke around each other when a case was particularly difficult to relax and help them keep focused. But Percival couldn’t hold back his reaction, his lips twisted down, his eyes darkened in sorrow.

And Picquery noticed.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”

“It’s fine.” He cut her off. But it wasn’t. Newt wasn’t his lover, but Percival loved him. And he ran away because he didn’t know how to handle the situation. He had failed him.

One night when they arrested five wizards for trafficking, he saw him again. Newt still had the same innocence when he was a teenager, but also had a fire in his eyes, his passion had grown and Percival could see it in the way he was curled up around the demiguise; he was protecting him.

He was breathtaking.

“Percy?” His eyes sparkled when he saw him and Percival grinned from ear to ear.

“Newt.”

Percival had no other choice, he helped Newt, ignored the case he had (because if what he told him was true, then he had broken at least ten laws just by carrying that thing around). He also defended him in front of the President and the Director, Picquery, who’s eyebrows quirked up when she saw Newt.

They let him go and because Newt had nowhere to go he accepted Percival’s offer of spending the night at his house.

“That’s the one, right?” Seraphina smirked, knowingly.

“Yes,” he sighed and took a confused Newt by the arm and apparated with him outside of his home.

“I’m sorry. For leaving like that,” Newt mumbled that night, after thanking him many times for helping him.

“It’s okay. You were afraid. I understand,” Percival said, but as soon as the words came out of his mouth, he saw another bruise and it looked recent. “You still live with him?”

Newt nodded, the movement, cold, almost mechanic.

“I’m not there that much though. I’m always traveling.”

Percival stared at him and caressed his cheeks, Newt blushed a beautiful shade of red, but didn’t move away.

“I know you don’t want to report, but that doesn’t mean you still have to go back to him.”

“I have nowhere else to go, Theseus’ flat is small and he’d wonder why I’m not with our father. He doesn’t know,” he said and Percival felt a little lighter because at least this time Newt wasn’t trying to deny it.

“You can stay here, with me,” Percival blurted out.

“You’ve done enough for me already, I wouldn’t want to-”

“Stay.” Percival pleaded. “I want you to live with me.”

A few tears fell down from Newt’s eyes, but there was a soft smile when he threw himself at the auror’s arms.

“Thank you,” was the whisper Percival heard and he was happy to find out it was like the time hadn’t passed between the two.

***

Months passed; howlers and letters came demanding Newt to come back and Percival was glad to see that Newt was more secure, more firm in his responses and his refusal to return to England.

He made friends with the people of MACUSA; by the end of the first month everybody knew him because he started to bring Percival lunch and without realizing it, he became MACUSA’s unofficial consultant when it came to magical creatures.

Seraphina liked him, not only because he was adorable, but because he was her favorite thing to tease Percival Graves.

Everybody knew Percival was in love, except Newt. But he didn’t want to talk to him about it yet, he wanted to give him enough time for him to heal.

“You’re an idiot,” Seraphina huffed. “Just tell him you love him already.”

But he didn’t, not that night at least. Newt was the one who started their first kiss a week later and took Percival’s breath away that he couldn’t actually say what he felt, he whispered it over Newt’s lips instead.

By the time Theseus came to visit his brother Newt and Percival were engaged. Although that didn’t make the British auror a happy man, at least he approved. Of course, that was the last thing that crossed his mind after Newt talked to him about their father.

Percival was with Newt the whole time, he knew how difficult it was for him to admit what his father did to anyone who wasn’t Percival, it was even worse because it was his own brother.

He felt almost relieved when he saw that Theseus believed him, although he understood how difficult it was for him to accept the fact that his father was an abuser and he never noticed.

“I’m sorry, Newt,” Theseus said, voice broken.

“It’s not your fault, 'Seus.”

They found out later that Theseus had challenged his own father in a duel and won quickly and everything happened in front of his co-workers. And although Percival agreed with Newt that wasn’t the way to solve things, he was secretly pleased and took a mental note to send Theseus a bottle of wine on his birthday.

***

A year into their marriage, they met a child on the streets; he was just five but was very smart for his age as Newt noticed every time he talked to him.

He was also going to be a very good wizard, judging by the magic Newt felt around him.

Newt also was the first to notice the problem; he had experienced that same fear he saw every day in Credence’s eyes. He had known the pain caused by marks if violence, same marks he had seen on Credence’s little fingers.

New​t didn’t have to say anything, Percival was the one that suggested it; they were going to adopt the kid.

They face some problems because the child was in a muggle orphanage, but the court ended up giving them the custody of the kid because Percival was the Director of Magical Security by then and he was important in America and also because President Picquery helped as well.

It took some time for Credence to adjust to his new home, but he already liked them both so it wasn’t so hard, at least not to accept them. Although Newt had to help him to overcome the nightmares and panic caused by the abuse.

Percival discovered, with a fond grin, that he had a natural talent, as his Dad, to take care of magical creatures.

“Look, Papa!” Credence ran towards him as soon as he opened the door. “I found your watch. Niff had stolen it!”

Percival rolled his eyes, but chuckled anyway.

“Where’s your Dad?”

“Over here!” Newt was tickling the thief and scolding him for the things he had found in the fur of his belly. “Why? And how by Merlin’s beard did you manage to escape from the case?”

When Newt finished and the Niffler returned to his nest, he walked towards his husband and welcomed him with a kiss.

It was nights like that, with Newt kissing him slowly, Credence spreading his arms for Newt to pick him up and hugging them both by putting his palms over the his parents heads, when Percival thanked Mercy Lewis for making him apparate in that particular forest when he was just 17 years old.

*************

I hope you have a very happy birthday, anon!

#gramander #anonymous #ask silverynight

[chaospirations]

Man after Man by Dougal Dixon is a rare book.  Not quite the rarest, but it commands a hefty price online.  Readers looking to find this book should be prepared to pay around $170 as of the date of this article (March 8, 2017) on Amazon, and if you are an AbeBooks customer, you’ll shell out a hefty $299 for Man after Man.  However, on March 8, 2017, I stumbled across a hard cover of Dixon’s Man after Man at a Catholic Charities thrift store in Mattoon, IL selling for one dollar. I was instantly drawn to it because I am a hopeless lover of odd books, and indeed the book is an oddity to behold.  The imagery and illustrations of the work is beautiful and at the same time grotesque in the depiction of the evolved human form. The story is short, but thought-provoking and controversial.  So why is this book considered rare in the first place?

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Dougal Dixon can be classified as a prolific author and speculative zoologist, meaningthat his career revolves around hypothesizing how life on Earth (or other planets) will evolve according to understood properties of biology, chemistry and physics and has great success writing about those ideas.  He is known for his beautifully illustrated and thought provoking books After Man (Dixon 1981), The New Dinosaurs (Dixon 1988) and numerous others that deal with nature, evolution and speculation of the future of such. After Man was an enormous success that gave credence to the field of “speculative evolution,” which in turn bolstered the credibility of other futurist philosophies such as exobiology.  There was even a mini-series based on Dixon’s book that was featured on the Discovery Channel called “The Future Is Wild.” (Scroll to the bottom of this article for the video of episode 1)

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

In 1990, another book with Dixon was published.  The title was Man after Man (Dixon 1990). In previous titles, Dixon focused on how animal life would evolve physiologically after the evacuation of or otherwise disappearance of humans from the Earth. However, in this book, the hypothetical storyline focuses on how humans are genetically engineered, then evolve through time into several different species and filling empty ecological niches. The entire book consists of what some people would consider transhumanism, or the genetically engineering humans into a wholly new species.

The story in the book revolved around a fictional depiction of the human race that evacuates Earth following ecological disaster and population explosion.  Genetically superior humans are shuttled off to a new planet outside of our solar system while the remaining population are left behind scraping for survival.  Genetic engineers have manipulated humans at first to become suited to work in hostile environments (what amounted to a slave labor class) in order to secure resources and perform tasks in order for the genetically “superior” humans to escape the planet.  After the exodus, humans are then engineered to fill the gaps that animals left behind in nature in various forms.  The illustrations in the book are detailed and gorgeous although the human form becomes more and more uncomfortable and unrecognizable as the physiology evolves.  It’s just downright creepy toward the end. Which may add to the cult appeal of the book, since people aren’t supposed to look like animals.  The closest analogy I could think of in terms of relating it to well-known literature or film would be “The Island of Dr. Moreau,” but in this case a better title might be “The Planet of Dr. Moreau.”

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Unlike his previous and subsequent works, Dixon has shown bitterness toward the book Man after Man and made the feeling known publicly. In a 2014 interview with Scientific American, Dixon was interviewed at length by science writer Darren Naish about his decades-long exploration of things that may or may not happen.  The subject of the book Man after Man was briefly brought up and hastily put down by Dixon.

“So, we’ve spoken now about After Man, which is about future evolution, and The New Dinosaurs, which is about zoogeography. Then there’s Man After Man – a project I was never keen to be involved in, the title of which was originally being kept for a project of my own…”

“But, the name Man After Man was taken for that other disaster of a project.”

~Dougal Dixon (Scientific American Interview)

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

That “other disaster of a project” was you guessed it… the book this entire article is about. Although nothing else was said about Dixon’s animosity for Man after Man, speculation in the comment section of the article gave some clues to his vilification of the book. The most logical speculation was presented by one commenter who suggested that the publisher had come into possession of some of artist and author Wayne Barlow’s sketches of humans that had been genetically engineered or if not evolved past the point of modern humans and persuaded Dixon to adapt the storyline of the book to match the allegedly ill-gotten artwork from Barlow.

April 5, 2014: “As for the Wayne Barlowe controversy … I don’t have it handy, but I own the book in which Barlowe claims that some of his sketches of future evolved humans were stolen by another party (unnamed, but the rumors fly), and used for another book, pre-empting Barlowe’s plans to do the same.

I would be very curious to know what happened there. I find it hard to believe that a person with Dixon’s imagination and background would ever even feel the temptation to appropriate someone else’s imaginings of future evolved life. Perhaps there was some great misunderstanding? Perhaps any resemblances were coincidence? (Convergent speculations on evolution?) Maybe a publisher goofed up and thought they had the rights to Barlowe’s concepts, and pushed Dixon to incorporate them? Maybe Barlowe wasn’t even speaking of Dixon? (Rumors can be wrong.)

Whatever the truth is, it is likely to be embarrassing to someone, and even if Dixon knows what the truth is, he may not be at liberty to say. I find it intriguing but inconclusive that Dixon seems to indicate that he was not very happy with the way the _Man After Man_ book came about, and that it was not according to his original plans.”

~Comment by Stevo Darkly April, 2014 (Scientific American)

These speculations were neither confirmed nor denied but subtly acknowledged by (who we assume is) Scientific American science writer Darren Naish in a follow-up comment.

“Dougal and I did discuss the background to Man After Man at length. All I will say is that my suspicions about what happened were accurate.”

Get the Top Selling Books on Amazon.com!

Commenter Stevo Darkly replied with a possible scenario that may be the best explanation for the controversy.

April 7, 2014: “Possibly the publisher then asked Dixon to undertake a change of direction, and incorporate Barlowe’s concepts in the book … or else no book, with all of Dixon’s effort up to that point going to waste. Basically, not too different from the dumb publisher’s decision that affected _After Man_, in which the publisher used Dixon’s writing but forced him to incorporate other artists’ illustrations. In this case the publisher might have decided to use Barlowe’s concepts, but have Dixon do the writing.

IF this is what may have happened, it also seems that Barlowe’s assent to this course of action, and the use of his sketches, was not clearly obtained. And Dixon, naturally, was not made aware that Barlowe had not clearly agreed to the use of his concepts (until, perhaps, after the book had been published and it was too late.)”

~Comment by Stevo Darkly April 5 & 7, 2014 (Scientific American)

So, if any of the above is true (and there isn’t any reason not to), then we can deduce that the book, Man after Man will never see another printing and never be officially digitized.  From this we can determine that Dougal Dixon’s Man after Man will remain a rare book, not only for the removal from commerce, but for the controversy that surrounds it.  And one more thing, look at those thrift shop books… look closely.

Dougal Dixon’s other books can be found on Amazon.

Don’t have a Kindle? Get a Kindle e-reader HERE, or the popular and affordable FIRE tablets HERE!

Or, get the Amazon Kindle FREE reading app!

“The Future Is Wild”

📰 I want to believe (the media). 👕 50% of the proceeds go to #Autism Speaks! Please Retweet!#fakenews #mediawatch https://t.co/9ugmCc35Hs

— 📖 cHaOsPiRaTiOnS 🔥 (@chaospirations1) April 9, 2017

👕 50% of the proceeds go to AUTISM SPEAKS $19.99🎈 I ❤️ SOMEONE W/ #Autism#autismawareness #amwriting #writerslifehttps://t.co/6maHBCGmRA

— 📖 cHaOsPiRaTiOnS 🔥 (@chaospirations1) April 4, 2017

  I WILL READ UNTIL I DIE (front)

I WILL READ UNTIL I DIE (back)

Get the “I WILL READ UNTIL I DIE” shirt now!

Get the Top Selling Books on Amazon.com!

If you would like your book featured on our

“In Their Own Words” blog series, CLICK HERE.

I WILL READ UNTIL I DIE (front)

I WILL READ UNTIL I DIE (back)

Get the “I WILL READ UNTIL I DIE” shirt now!

Get the Top Selling Books on Amazon.com!

Bizarre Rare Book worth Hundreds found at a Thrift Store for $1. Man after Man by Dougal Dixon is a rare book.  Not quite the rarest, but it commands a hefty price online. 

#biology #Bizarre #book #controversy #Dixon #engineer #evolution #genetic #nature #rare #science #speculative #Strange #transhumanism #zoology