#*changes window color* WHAT IS MY PURPOSE ON THIS EARTH WHY AM I THE WAY THAT I AM

[papermint-airplane]

I have no building talent in this game ffs.

I'm gonna go make dinner so I can EAT MY FEELINGS 😭😭😭😭

[stillness-in-green]

Months later and still kinda salty about the Advisers treatment in S6 since its very clear they were not on the team's mind: not including Bindi with Amplivolt against Edgeshot, not including Hole guy's panel about to ambush Orca (so he just got beat out of nowhere), not including the panel of Cabbie Hat and Fox guy running off, Hose Face not speaking before he killed Midnight, heck even messing up who gets captured in the end. I know they aren't super relevant, but S6 didn't help them either.

Man, I completely fell off of watching the anime even for the purposes of criticism, so thank you for this update to clarify for me that only disappointment waits if and when I ever bother.  I did get curious and look up who gets captured in the end, and wow, they really did comprehensively fuck that up, didn’t they? I know you know because you wrote me this nice ask about it, but for everyone else, take a look at this nonsense:

(Note that, as ever when I'm replying to asks from my dear fellow advisor fan @shockersalvage, the PLF codenames below are pure headcanon.)

I am agog at how huge and accessible and openable those windows look. Why on earth would you use vehicles like that for prisoner transport?) Are they just packing dangerous terrorists back onto the same buses the Heroes used to get up here, or what?

Comparing that to the equivalent shot in the manga, they didn’t get any of these people right. (Excluding the Heroes, who get relatively faithful if slightly less detailed renditions.  Because of course they do.)

Look at the windows on these transports and laugh with me about how ridiculous the ones in the anime are in comparison. Also, I notice that while the anime got Tartarus Hat: The Capture Tape Hero's look right, they did fail to notice that the restraints dangling loose from his wrists are the same as those the PLF captives are bound with.

Not every person on the ground here is tentatively identifiable as a ranked advisor—only, you know, five out of seven of them, the entire middle group.  The two on the back right are really obviously Galvanize and Piercings Dude (Compress’s #1 and Dabi’s #3), and given the visual similarities and the grouping, I’m pretty confident the others are Fray (Toga’s #3), Red (Skeptic’s #1) and Band Jacket Guy (Compress’s #2).

Yet even given the anime’s sloppy, ugly coloring decisions for the advisors they did show, they didn’t even accidentally get any of these right.  Band Jacket Guy and Fray are both dark-haired in the anime, while Red’s honey blonde and Piercings Dude is silver-haired with a striped coat jacket.  I would almost venture to guess that the anime intended the dude they gave the handlebar mustache to above (Galvanize in the manga, as apparent by his forelock and forehead scar) to be Sanctum, save that they didn’t those colors right, either!  They have Sanctum in white in the opening attack scene and in blue in Twice’s imagine spot.

Just an impressively thorough failure to realize the manga’s intention.

One thing you didn’t mention that I wondered about was Scarecrow’s first scene of note, so I also looked that up—I wanted to see if he had a voice actor yet, given how important his voice would turn out to be! 

Lo and behind, I find that the anime—while at least including Scarecrow, absolutely not guaranteed, as the above dissection shows!—gave what I had always assumed to be his dialogue to Re-Destro instead.  Which, I guess, looking at the manga again, could be the intention?  But I don’t really read it that way.

It’s certainly flowery enough to be Re-Destro!  He definitely talks like that!  But, as we later find out, Scarecrow absolutely talks like that too.  And here, looking at the paneling and the way the talk bubbles fall within it, we can see that Re-Destro’s obvious dialogue (“What did you pesky Heroes do to our savior and liberator?!”) breaks out of the panel binding, overlapping into the scene change to Gigantomachia’s rampage.

That’s what I would expect to be the case if the next line (“After Gigantomachia, Liberation warriors!  Our revolution is at hand!”) was also meant to be his, ringing out so loudly over the battlefield that even out in the forest, it’s still audible above the sounds of pitched, widespread conflict.

Instead of being overlaid across the panel borders like the others, though, it’s fully contained within the panels, visually implying that the line is being delivered by someone within that same scene/panel, for which the most obvious candidate is the guy prominently foregrounded in it.  I suppose the counter-argument is that there aren’t any obvious tails to the talk bubble that would link it to him, as with the bubbles in final panel with Kamui Woods and Midnight, but then, Re-Destro’s shouting doesn’t have any tails, either!

Overall, I guess it’s a valid read, but I frankly just don’t like it as much as I do the dialogue serving as an early indicator of Scarecrow’s personality.  Also, while it surely pleases me to contemplate that Re-Destro loves Shigaraki so much that he’d order a sizeable chunk of his own army to abandon him in favor of going to his savior and liberator, I have to think that if he did give that order, considerably more than a piddling 132 out of 17,000 people at the Villa would have successfully prioritized escape!

Sorry for taking so long with this one, shockersalvage!  My plan was to respond to it when I got back to PLF Spotting posts, but I just don’t think I can be arsed with those at this point. I kind of unreasonably hate the stupid puce-colored arm the anime saddled Shigaraki with for some godforsaken reason, and I’ve not yet forgiven the show for giving Re-Destro an anime-original scene but fucking it up by having him identify Destro Classic as his literal father. Also, while the anime transparently doesn’t care about the PLF, it’s only emulating its source material in that regard, so it's hard to muster up too much righteous indignation on the manga's behalf.

Regardless, thank you as always for the ask and your patience! Please do feel free to report back in with any further PLF Erasure Crimes the anime commits; I'm not expecting to pay it much attention at this point save probably ducking in to watch Scarecrow's wonderful rooftop speech at the hospital riot.

(You know, assuming they let him keep it.)

[duck-ducks]

Chapter 4: tales of long past

As obnoxious and terrifying as they were, it was dawning on Gladiolus that they were just as annoying as humans could be. While Jazz, who she was riding in, had silently accepted that she wasn’t interested in conversing for the time being, Sideswipe had not.

“We’ve probably been one earth since you were a kid-” While he continued on with his rambling, her attention was drawn to the golden one.

This one had said nothing since the drive began. All it did was circle the one pulling Deadend, who had done what she assumed was the equivalent of going limp when he, in his car form, was latched to the back of a larger red pickup truck.

Sideswipe just wouldn’t quit. “Are you out of high school?” He was like a toddler who just learned how to ask questions. Only the questions were structured better more detailed.

“Uh, yeah I am, I graduated years ago.” His stream of consciousness that spouted out of what she assumed was his mouth, although he was currently a car so she really couldn’t be sure, was while almost irritating was also in a way grounding. She could just listen to him as he seemed to have no need of any responses to anything he said or asked.

If only his volume could be lowered just a little then she would probably be able to fall asleep, alas he was just loud enough to make her pay attention to him should she stop thinking so hard.

She jumped slightly in her seat when she glance out the window to see the walls of a tunnel. It seemed Sideswipe's talking had served the unintentional purpose of distracting her as she hadn’t noticed that her surroundings had changed from the paved road and open sky to an entirely metal interior.

Even inside Jazz she felt that wherever they were should be cold. She could imagine the feel of the cool metal walls.

Slowing to a stop, Jazz opened his door to let her out. It was warm, not the hot kind of warm that made you slightly sweaty but the cozy kind of warm. The kind that still allows a cool breeze to feel nice but not as a relief.

This place was just as big as the room with the circular structure she had been in earlier after her original abduction; however, this room held many others.

Not only were there more robots of wildly different sizes and colors but also humans. Humans from many walks of life if their clothes and ages were anything to go by.

A group of teenagers whooped and ran around a smaller yellow robot, closely watched by a serious pink one.

A woman with dark hair wearing scrubs was conversing with a red and white robot who had red medical crosses on his shoulders. She could guess he must be an ambulance.

Small groups of robots had humans sitting or standing on their shoulders.

The floor didn’t shake, it didn’t even tremble as she would have expected it to when one of the largest robots made his way towards her. He knelt down in front of Gladiolus, she wanted to back up but that would mean bumping into Jazz’s door.

Although she couldn’t see his mouth, if he even had one, his voice was gentle, soothing, the kind of voice she’d like to hear while listening to an audio book. “Hello, My name is Optimus Prime. I understand that this is all frightening and confusing, if you would allow it I would like to explain who we are and why we are here.”

He held out his huge hand in front of her like he meant to greet her with a hand shake. She wasn’t sure if that’s what he wanted but that’s how she would opt to take it, she could only really “shake” one of his fingers. It must have looked comedic to anyone watching, Optimus had to put his other hand on the ground to keep balance while crouching so low.

“I’m Gladiolus.” she brought her arms awkwardly straight by her sides.

He stared at her for a moment, not saying anything, simply taking in her presence. Gladiolus had never been the sort to think herself important or in the makings of greatness but, the way he looked at her made her feel like he could see more than she could about herself. As though he knew what she could become and was trying to find a way to bring it about, like an artist with blank canvas.

His mask opened and he smiled at her. His face reminded her of her grandfather, warm and welcoming, the kind of face that had seen a lot but held onto the joy of what came next. “Perhaps somewhere quiet would benefit this conversation.” standing at his full height, she was surprised that he didn’t seem looming. Optimus had this open air about him, it made you want to do what he said.

Gladiolus went to nod only to stop, she was sure there was much to say about the situation but something felt off. Optimus took slow steps, he didn’t try to rush her.

It was now she saw it, all the robots that had rescued her were present except for the one pulling Deadend. Where had he taken him? What would they do with him? She wanted to ask, wanted to know what would become of the one troublemaker they caught.

Instead she said nothing.

She followed Optimus through hallways, these halls lacked the uniformity of the ones the Stunticons carried her through. The walls were various colors and other robots and humans passed them. It was bright and jovial in atmosphere. Jaring when compared to her earlier experiences the past few hours.

Optimus didn’t talk until they reached their destination, it appeared to be a giant living room. Couches and end tables, what she assumed was a massive tv, and a few robots milling around. There was a raised section with human sized things of the same caliber on it, along with a couple people about, most of which were conversing in little groups.

Optimus gestured in the direction of a staircase leading to the human area. Within the area, Gladiolus was sat close to the edge with Optimus sitting in a chair he had pulled over in front of her.

And then he spoke. He talked of everything she couldn't have even known to ask about. The war, how it started, Megatron and his Decepticons, Optimus Prime and his Autobots. After giving her an overview of the big picture he began to explain the details, what Cybertronians were, where they were from, why they were here.

He didn’t require her to ask questions he answered any she may have had of each topic before she could ask for any clarifications. It was like he knew what she was going to ask, like he had had this conversation more than a few times before. Considering how many other humans she saw he must practically have this conversation scripted by now.

Gladiolus couldn’t tell you how long he spoke at her, but she was enraptured by what he said. “I hope to one day gain peace between our factions, however I fear we have been at odds far too long to ever reconcile.” his features turned to a hard sadness. Throughout most of his tale Optimus had been informative first and foremost but as it came to more recent events he grew more bitter in tone, it was barely noticeable, the kind of bitterness someone tried to hide to save face, a tired bitterness one born of horrors you can never unsee. Gladiolus didn’t have all the context to understand Optimus Prime's bitterness or the horrors he granted a description to her. All she had was the sadness she kept close to her heart and questions that wanted answers.

Questions she wouldn’t leave unvoiced this time.

“The Decepticons you capture, what happens to them?” She wondered if they had some kind of geneva convention or if they followed the human one while on earth. She thought about Dead end and what may become of him in enemy custody.

There was a glint in Optimus’s eyes that Gladiolus couldn't read, his finials perked with interest. “If you are concerned for Deadend, I assure you he will not be mistreated. For now he will wait in the brig until we can question him.”

It was a slightly unsatisfying answer. “What about the other Stunticons? Will they try to get him back, I know you said Decepticons have less comradery among them but they seemed kinda close.”

“The Stunticons are a gestalt and a young one at that, their coding demands that they maintain a certain amount of integration with each other. And having been created on this planet I believe they have adapted to a more human type of familial relationship then most Cybertron created gestalts would”

“So they're considered young by your standards. Some of the things they did, did reminded me of children.” she said it in a joking tone, meaning no truth to the statement.

Optimus nods in agreement “I suppose that is one way of looking at them.

Although they onlined with basic functions and knowledge, they have not been online for long and still have much to learn.”

“What do you mean? How old are they?”

“They are only three earth solar cycles in age. They are among some of the youngest Cybertronians currently living.”

“Excuse me. They’re what.” Gladiolus stood from her chair, she heard chairs behind her slide against the floor as other people stood as well.

“Approximately Three earth solar cycles in age.” Optimus was baffled by her startled reaction.

“Three solar cycles? As in three years? They’re three years old?”

“Woah wait Prime I didn’t know that!” A middle aged man with brown hair mostly hidden under a bright yellow hardhat spoke up. “You’ve been fighting kids this whole time. Oh my god Optimus you put a toddler in the brig. Is he unsupervised?” It was nice to not be the only one put off by this.

“Sparky we would never leave someone kept in the brig to their own devices, he is being monitored remotely. And while it is unfortunate that the Stunticons are as young as they are, I don't think they can be considered with the same age standards as humans.”

“You said that calling them children is one way of looking at them.” Gladiolus pointed out. She crossed her arms at almost the same interval as ‘Sparky’ although she popped a hip to the side while he leaned forward slightly and squinted at Optimus’s widening eyes.

“Perhaps I should get Jazz to explain the difference in our cultures in this regard.” Optimus didn’t stand up but he raised his hands palms outwards and moved as though to make it so he could make a quick exit, his finials slowly moved down. Gladiolus wanted to equate it to a timid cornered animal but left that train of thought behind to get back on topic.

“No wonder they’re so misbehaved if they have Megatron as a role model.” Sparky added thoughtfully.

From the little she had actually seen of him and the descriptions Optimus had given her were enough to know the Decepticon leader couldn't be a good parent to five toddler-teenagers.

“I won’t disprove you of that opinion however Deadend is still a dangerous Decepticon soldier no matter his current age.” Optimus said.

“Seems to me you captured him pretty easily especially with the whole two against one sideswipe and the gold one had going on. How long was that fight before they retreated.”

“Actually I kinda gotta give that one to Optimus, gestalts aren't just a fancy word for a close group of mechs, it's another name for combiners, mechs who can -combine- with one another to make a bigger stronger bot. The Stunticons can combine to make Menasor, a giant destructive pain in the ass.” Sparky informed her.

It still didn’t sit right with Gladiolus and from his expression it didn’t with Sparky either.

“Perhaps it would be beneficial for Gladiolus to be introduced to the others.” Optimus addressed Sparky, it felt like a cheap shot at redirecting.

“Right.” it was clear with Sparky’s tone this would not be the last of this conversation. “Well shoot I haven’t even properly introduced myself. The names Sparkplug Witwicky, me and my son Spike were some of the first to meet the Autobots when they came to earth.”

“Gladiolus Roberts, I got kidnapped by the Stunticons today.” Optimus chuffed at this but added no other comment. Gladiolus couldn’t tell if this was of amusement or alarm.

“Oh yeah, that's about as fun as introductions to the Decepticons get.” Sparkplug nodded with his hands on his hips while looking into the distance, a very ‘yup, that's how it is’ dad pose.

Gladiolus jumped when a creak sounded from a nearby vent. Later she would swear she saw yellow optics through the vent cover, now she wouldn’t notice right away, she would look back to Sparkplug and continue a conversation.

Buzzsaw couldn’t know that Gladiolus wasn’t in the right mind to process that she had seen her. For all she knew the human woman had seen her get sloppy in enemy territory and let it slide. Surely Soundwave wouldn’t mind her taking a little long to gather some personal interest information. Not like Deadend would cease to exist in the Autobot brig while he waited.

Buzzsaw opened a comm line. Perhaps her master would let her use this.

 

Gladiolus was driven home by a bot. He told her he would drive her to work the next day and that he would pick her up and bring her back to the Auto bot base afterwards. She wasn’t given a name and she didn’t ask. She would in the morning but she had enough of learning names today, of formal introductions or the lack of them.

She went inside her house that for the first time, in a long time, felt far too quiet.

She didn’t shower or change clothes, just climbed into bed.

She ended the day trying hard to stop thinking. To stop wondering. To turn her mind off and fall into either the mercy or the curse of the dream realm.

Come the morning she wouldn’t remember her dreams. She wouldn’t remember the conversations had with those long passed that spoke of futures and ends, of yellow optics and purple visors. She wouldn’t remember how they warned her.

She wouldn’t remember.

She would simply wake.

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: How to make a traitor

( Don’t forget to come see my on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord ) Cold, damp, smooth, empty….

These were the words that best described prison cell B-13. A room of cold stone devoid of windows, it was but one of a thousand identical cells aboard the prison ship Magenta’s Gail as it sailed between the worlds of the Klax Empire. Unlike other prison ships that held prisoners that were often Klax citizens that had committed crimes, the Magenta’s Gail was a specifically designed prison ship meant to house only the enemies of the empire.

The door to the cell rolled open slowly revealing a passageway that had you not seen the doorway open yourself would not believe it was there at all.

From outside the cold cell a lone figure was casually thrown inside. Their clothes in tatters and stained with blood and other fluids, what visible skin marred by bruises, and a looming stench that would strike fly’s down out of the air. They lay on the cold ground unmoving as the cell door rumbled closed once again. Once it was sealed, the room appeared as if it had no door at all.

As the prisoner groaned in the dark cell a holographic generator kicked to life and displayed a large eyeball in the center of the room. The iris swirled around observing the cells interior before focusing on the prisoner.

“Prisoner B-13,” a mechanical voice echoed from all around the cell, “you are being held for your crimes of espionage against the state.”

The huddled figure on the ground only softly stirred but did not respond to the booming voice. Hovering above the room the eyeball began to glow brighter from the prisoner’s silence.

“You are to relinquish all information currently in your possession of your species. Failure to do so will result in punishment.”

As before the prisoner only acknowledgment was a soft groan.

“Prisoner B-13, you will acknowledge me when spoken to.” The mechanical eyeball droned. “Failure to do so will result in punishment.”

For the first time the prisoner shuffled around and sat up with their back against the opposite wall. They faced the giant eyeball and viewed it with a gaze of lackluster wonder. “My name is not B-13.”  The prisoner said.

“Your designation is B-13,” the eyeball retorted, “you will acknowledge your new designation.”

“I will not.”

The prisoners reply was as quick as was the mechanical overseer’s punishment. From the corners of the room a faint hissing sound could be heard and before long the prisoner was beginning to find it increasingly difficult to breathe.

“Failure to comply has been registered; administrating punishment.”

After a few moments the hissing subsided but the prisoner was still finding it difficult to breathe. “Oxygen levels have been decreased by 25%.” Staring up at the eyeball the prisoner could only fill his gaze with hatred as it stared back at it him seemingly uninterested.

“Air levels will remain as such until compliance is achieved.”

With that the giant eyeball hologram disappeared casting the room back into motionless darkness disrupted only by the labored breathings of a man on the edge of the abyss.

He wasn’t aware of how long he was alone in the dark cell after the leering eyeball vanished. In the cold dark room time blurred together like it was an endless merry-go-round spinning him in circles with no end in sight. The lack of oxygen only added to the discomfort as even when trying to fall asleep his body would react as if it was under attack and wake itself up, only for the body to consume more air that was not as abundant as needed.

It felt like an eternity before the eyeball reappeared before him and for all he knew it was.

“Prisoner B-13, you will respond to questioning.” The eyeball droned still with its mechanical overtones.

“That is not my name.” said the prisoner once more as they rubbed their eyes from the bright light.

The massive eyeball blinked and continued observing him. “You are designated B-13, you will respond to this or be punished.”

“Then you may as well punish me since I will not answer your questions.”

Once again the corners of the room began hissing but this time the prisoner began coughing and gasping much harder than before.

“Oxygen levels have been decreased by 50%.” The eyeball spoke. “Levels will remain as such until compliance has been achieved.”

With that the holograph turned off. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This pattern repeated itself over and over in the following sessions between the prisoner and his machine interrogator. Each time the eyeball would demand the prisoner answer their questions, and each time the prisoner would reply by demanding the machine address him properly; resulting in punishment resuming again.

A seemingly endless cycle was born from it as neither side appeared to want to give in until the other agreed to their terms.

That was until the first paradox was achieved. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Why…do you…” the prisoner said between gasps for air after the eyeball had appeared once again, “repeat this?”

“My purpose is to obtain all information from you regarding your species as quickly as possible.” The reply was as emotionless as one would expect from a machine.

“As…quickly...as…possible?” the prisoner coughed.

“Affirmative.” The eyeball stated.

It was then the machine noticed a strange configuration take place across the prisoners face. The corners of their mouth twitched side ways to reveal the inner rows of teeth; a gesture the machines databanks stated was a “Smile” expression pertaining to joy.

“So…you intent-entionally….are failing…your mission.”

It was here the machine stopped and pondered the statement. “Negative,” the machine said,” I am performing my function.”

“By not…calling…me my name…you…prolong…interrogation.” The prisoner gasped. “Punishment…prolongs…interrogation; so…by your rules…you do not…get information…quickly.”

For the first time since the giant eyeball had appeared the prisoner saw it flicker for the briefest of moments. His words flowing through the machine along the lines of their programmed instructions while at the same time confirming its failure.

The eyeball flickered again and turned off suddenly casting the room back into shadows. It wasn’t for long however as the giant eyeball appeared once again after a few minutes.

“If acknowledged by name, the prisoner confirms they will answer questions?”

Most people wouldn’t have been able to tell the change in tone from the machine; but after spending repeated sessions alone with it the prisoner could easily see the change in pattern. The prisoner looked right at the eyeball and his smile grew wider.

“Yes.”

“Acknowledged.” The machine spoke.

From around the corners again the prisoner saw the panels opening again but this time rather than stealing his oxygen the machines were pumping it into the room. For the first time in what felt like an eternity the prisoner was able to take a full breath of air into his lungs.

“Prisoner will state their name.”

“My name is Arnold Pax.” Arnold said for the first time since arriving. “What’s your name?”

“I am a cybernetic interrogator.” the machine replied, but the prisoner shook his head.

“That’s not a name.” Arnold pointed to himself. “I’m a human, but my distinction is Arnold Pax.” He then pointed at the giant eyeball.

“You’re a cybernetic interrogator, but your name is?”

The machine was quiet for some time before responding. “I do not have a name, it is not required.”

Arnold shook his head. “I disagree. If we are to converse and have me give up my secrets then I must be speaking with an individual to properly hand over said information to. Such an individual requires a name.”

Again the machine was quiet once more pondering the question and confirming it to be the fastest method to achieving its programmed goal.

“Very well, you may address me as Cib.”

It was Arnold’s turn to look confused, but he just smiled and waved it away.

“It’s a pleasure to speak with you, Cib.” ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Over the next few days Arnold and Cib conversed with each other much more frequently.

In exchange for agreeing to call Arnold by his name Arnold confirmed that he was in fact a human operative placed within the Klax Empire to gather information.

It was here that Arnold began playing a game with Cib.

For each bit of information Arnold shared with Cib he would be able to ask the machine a question of his own. Cib agreed to the terms as it appeared to continue to follow the rules of being the fastest way to gather information. The information shared however was often had little relevance to what Arnold’s activities had actually been.

He told Cib of life on Earth, what humans were like, what color his first pedal bike was, what the flavor of fresh noodles was like after just coming off the stove; and in turn Arnold learned the Cib was an adaptive AI program that was intended to learn and adapt to situations to better gather information. Each answer provoking further questions from Cib which Arnold was all too happy to answer as the interrogator began developing a thirst for knowledge.  

This scheduled dialogue between the two went on for months all the while Cib was sending reports back to the living klak overseers who eventually had had enough.

It was during one of their many conversations that the door to Arnold’s cell opened and in stepped two Klax prison guards.

Cib’s giant eyeball rounded on the two of them as they entered. “It is against regulation JD175 to interrupt an interrogation of a prisoner while in-progress.” Cib said.

“Prisoner B-13,” one of the guards said to Arnold completely ignoring Cib, “your execution has been scheduled for today.”

The two guards made for Arnold and hauled him to his feet. Arnold looked over at Cib who’s eye was watching the entire event unfold.

“Guess this will be the last time we see each other friend.” Arnold’s face was smiling, but his words carried a note of sadness. “Sorry you failed in your mission.”

“Failed?” Cib’s eye broke from the guards and focused on Arnold. “Explain.”

“The interrogations not over,” Arnold said as he struggled in the guard’s grasp, “but these two are about to kill me.”

The eyeball blinked. “Unacceptable. Death during interrogation is not permitted.” Cib’s eye turned to the guards now as they neared the door. “You will release Arnold and allow the interrogation to be completed.”

Arnold managed to break free of one of the guard’s grips and pushed the other away. “You heard him, you can’t execute me just yet spike heads.”

The guard that was pushed away lunged at Arnold and knocked him to the ground. Arnold struggled but the guard merely wrapped their hands around his throat and began to squeeze.

“This interrogation is not completed!” Cib’s eyeball was frantically looking back and forth between Arnold and the guard. “Release him at once!”

“Why bother?” the guard said as he tightened his grip. “He’ll be dead in a few more-“

A panel shot open and a burst of electricity shot out and hit the guard square in the back. They screamed as the electrical shock rushed through their system and toppled over to the floor twitching. Arnold lay gasping for air while the second guard looked to see Cib’s eyeball now focusing on him. They tried to sprint out of the cell but a second electrical burst shot out and hit them just as they reached the door.

Arnold staggered to his feet and casually stepped over the still twitching body of the first guard.

“What have I done….” Cib’s voice was distance and sounded both confused and scared for the first time. “Cybernetic units are forbidden from attacking prison personnel.”

“You’re not a cybernetic unit though,” Arnold corrected, “you are Cib.”

“But-“ Cib began but was cut off by Arnold.

“You are following your directions to complete the interrogation. These two attempted to stop the interrogation against the standing orders.”

“That is correct.” Cib replied.

“But now because of their actions both our lives are in danger from the remaining staff of the prison. If either of us are killed here then the interrogation cannot be completed.”

The hologram twitched back and forth pondering the statement but could not find a flaw in his logic.

“So for the interrogation to be completed we must leave the station for a new location.”

The eyeball looked at Arnold, then back at the guards for several moments.

“Agreed, but any Klax installation will likely result in a similar fate as warning messages are already being sent from this prison ship.”

Arnold smiled. “I know the perfect place back on Earth we can finish this interrogation without either of us dying by the Klax. Just help me reach a shuttle and then download yourself into it and I can take you there so we may continue the interrogation.”

“Yes….yes that is logical.”

Outside the cell the lights of the prison ship began to flicker and far down the corridors Arnold could hear prison cells opening to the confused shouts of guards; followed swiftly by the sounds of fighting as the prisoners inside finally saw their chance for freedom.

Arnold looked back at the eyeball as he stepped out of the cell for the first time in months.

“As always, it’s a pleasure to speak with you Cib.”

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

I'm sorry but i'm addicted to our boy Spamton- I have a little unique request here. So this takes place where Spamton just moves in the Queen's mansion, he meets the reader and immediately falls for their kind words and gestures. Weeks pass, and he goes to see them, but catches them talking and hanging out with Swatch.. He gets really jealous to the point of changing his style to match Swatch's

"Oh [y/n]! Have You Met Our Newest Guest?"

"Uh, I don't believe-"

"He's An Interesting Addison Who Made A Big Name For Himself! Ohohoho!" Queen laughed joyously, pausing to sip her glass of battery acid. "I Wonder How He Got So Rich...No Matter. As My Peon, I Order You Greet Him......Whenever It's Convenient For You."

"Sure thing. I'll go now." With a respectful nod, you set off to the mansion's guest chambers to meet this newcomer. You've lived here for a long time--and somewhat reluctantly since Queen decided to make you one of her peons one day. But life was actually pretty good.

It wasn't like you had anything better to do, so if she needed someone to help her with plans that..didn't seem all-that urgent, you'll offer your assistance. She let you stay in the mansion for free and never made you do anything if you weren't feeling up to it.

For a tyrannical ruler she was rather kind.

Yet you didn't wanna take advantage of her hospitality, so you'd just listen to whatever she says. And if she wants you to meet this celebrity as part of her endless lists of requests, then you'll happily oblige. But you were eager too since you've seen his face on TV a lot. It felt like an honor.

After wandering the corridors of deactivated puzzles, Mona Lisa-esque portraits, and meticulously-placed pottery, you finally arrived at the guest rooms. You hummed a small tune as you passed by each one, stopping when you noticed one door was open.

Peeking inside, you saw the Addison still setting up things. A phone was tucked between his shoulder and ear as he moved a box whilst rambling to whoever was on the other end of the line.

"Yea! I promise I won't let you down, okay? Soon I'll be bigger than ever before! I know I'm already a big shot but....haha, yeah, I shouldn't get carried away. Okay. Right..we'll discuss more of this tomorrow. Thanks!"

After hanging up the phone and returning it to the receiver, he finally noticed you and smiled. "Hey, hey! Haven't seen your face around here yet. But surely you know mine, right?"

"Yeah." You smiled, not wanting to shy away from talking with him. "Spamton, right?"

"Everybody's favorite number-one rated salesman!!" He laughed. "It's good you know me..'cuz soon ALL of Cyber World will know my name! It's a pleasure to meet you...?"

"[Y/n]. I'm one of Queen's peons." You shook his hand politely. The energy that radiated from him was so bright. Just as much as his pearly smile was.

Stepping inside, you glanced around at the luxurious furniture. He definitely got the higher-class rooms, with the addition of a large window that showed the neon green meridians that stretched across the night sky. It was certainly a beautiful view to fall asleep to. "Need help unpacking?"

"Oh--sure!!" At first Spamton seemed surprised by your offer, but he nodded. "If you want, be my guest. And while we unpack, I gotta ask you..how's it being Queen's peon?"

............

Weeks passed, and you've gotten to know Spamton more and more. You realized he was actually a sweet down-to-earth guy all around. Although he was on the phone a lot, he'd make time to hang out with you, so you two became fast friends.

He was truly living the best life. Posters of his car advertisements were littered all over the city, and the Swatchlings attended to his every need. Though one thing was hard to admit, even when it seemed like he had it all:

You were his only friend now that everyone else is intimidated by his status--as they would shy away from conversing with him--and the Addisons, well, abandoned him out of jealousy.

Obviously that made him worry about driving you away, especially when he's on the phone nonstop. But...the fact you've been so kind to him in every word and gesture, treating him like a regular person and not some untouchable celebrity, was quite endearing. Most admired him for his products, not his personality.

Your kindness made him fall for you hard and fast, ever since day one. He wasn't sure if this was a good idea; to let it get in the way of his business.

But what the hell? He was a big shot! He can afford to go a bit bigger and take more risks. Living in this mansion with someone who loved him would be the perfect dream.

There was a much bigger dream that his valued caller insisted he focused on, but that can come later.

So this morning, Spamton set out to find you to address these feelings once and for all. Yet he was rather nervous. Addisons were most confident in selling products, not so much...everything else. But he didn't wanna back down. He kept smiling no matter what.

As he checked inside the color café that he usually frequented, he saw you eating at the table. He noticed you weren't alone but with Swatch, talking and...

Laughing with them?

And just like that, his smile faded much like his hope.

Of course, the head butler had their ways to swoon people. He tried not to think of it as anything more than just their personality. It's just their way to entice returning customers.

That's all...right?

Spamton ducked behind one of the displays, listening in on your conversation to determine if he should proceed or not.

"By the way, we've known each other for a while and..I've always wanted to ask you something.."

"Yes? What is your inquiry?"

He held his breath. This is exactly what he feared. Knowing that you've been here longer, it's obvious you'd be closer to that damn bird-

"Your outfit."

Then he exhaled shakily, relieved. 'What are you getting so worked up for, idiot?' He thought in the back of his mind, but he continued eavesdropping.

"Did the Queen make it or give it to you? It's very stylish and really makes you stand out from the other Swatchlings."

"Ah, in fact I decided this look for myself." Swatch chuckled softly, raising a wing to adjust their glasses. "The tailor did marvelous work with my vision: black suit, tinted glasses. Very fashionable, is it not?"

"It is. I like it a lot."

"Why thank you. I see why our Lady Grace admires you. Just for that compliment, I'll give you a discount on any of our products in the gift shop."

"Should be every day if you ask me." You joked, earning another chuckle from them.

Seeing all of this and the way you two spoke like close friends was a jab in Spamton's heart-shaped object. 'So [y/n] likes people who stand out? Well I can stand out, too..' He thought bitterly as he stormed out of the shop without either of you knowing he was there.

Why should he settle with being a blank-slate Addison like the rest of them? He didn't consider himself one anymore.

Today, he told his valued caller, he was gonna be a whole new person.

It would help him get closer to both of his dreams, but there was only one on his mind now.

............

Later that night as you were getting ready for bed, you heard a knock at the door. You huffed in annoyance, assuming Queen needed you for something.

She had a knack for disturbing you at ungodly hours. But knowing better than to ignore her, you went to answer the door anyways-

To some strange black-haired guy in a black suit and white turtleneck sweater.

"Hi, um...can I help you?"

"[Y/n]? It's me."

"....wait....Spamton?"

"Yeah!" The salesman laughed, throwing his arms out and making a pose. "Whatdya think of me now?"

Perplexed, you looked him up and down. He ditched the lime-green pants, instead wearing white trousers. And his hair was slicked back. But what was most peculiar about him were his glasses, tinted with pink and yellow lenses.

Had you not known any better, you would've thought Swatch suddenly shrunk and became robotized.

"Cool but..you kinda look like Swatch a little bit. Was that on purpose?" You mused.

"...haha....yeah uh..funny story. Um.." He dropped the act, losing his trademark grin as he wondered how to explain himself and this sudden transformation. You could tell he wanted to talk inside the room, so you let him in and shut the door.

"I don't recall Queen mentioning any costume contest-"

"It's not a costume." He muttered, uncomfortably rubbing his hands together as he looked at you with sadness. "This is who I am now. The new me."

"..huh? You serious?" When he nodded, you frowned slightly. "I'm confused. You don't look like an Addison anymore-"

"That's the point...! I...I don't wanna be associated with them anymore. I decided to stand out, y'know? If you're gonna be a big shot, ya gotta stand out from the crowd!" He forced a laugh that sounded rather glitchy.

You didn't buy it. It wasn't like him to do this out of the blue.

"Spamton, why imitate Swatch of all people? And why out of the blue like this? I mean..I don't mind if you like their style. But I didn't even recognize you until you spoke."

Try as he might, he couldn't make any better excuses. So seeing that he was cornered made him finally admit his jealousy, overhearing your conversation with Swatch while he was browsing--when he really wasn't, but he didn't wanna come off as creepy.

His voice glitched further due to stress, accidentally blurting out some kind of...flirtatious term as he explained how much you meant to him since day one.

You weren't sure if he meant to say "hot single" on purpose. Though you were flattered that such a famous guy like him...actually had a crush on you, an ordinary Darkner who just fetched the Queen's stick wherever she threw it.

You found it hard to believe he thought of you that way..so you kept your own feelings buried. So to see that it's mutual was a relief, and it made you smile.

Spamton, on the other hand, was stressing the hell out. So much so he didn't even see your smile. He just saw himself being stupid the more he rambled on.

It was such a stupid, stupid reason to get insecure--to the point of changing his entire appearance without warning. All because you were friends with a butler who was doing their job???

How selfish can he get when he already had everything he wanted and more?

When he did acknowledge your small smile, he thought you were holding yourself back from laughing. But you had every right to laugh and call him a joke for thinking this will get your attention.

As he finished talking, he could see your smile fade and huffed. He waited for you to tell him how stupid he looks and to go back to being the plain old Addison you met.

Instead of ridiculing him you...hugged him?

At this point you were sitting on the bed together. Of course yours wasn't as massive as his was, but it was big enough for you two to share.

"Spammy, I'm flattered you like me in that way but...you didn't have to do all of this to get my attention. I promise there's nothing going on between Swatch and I. We're just friends. They're not replacing you or anything."

"I know, it's just.." Taking off the glasses, he set them aside before hugging you tightly, head buried in your chest. "I don't wanna lose the only person in this damn place who makes me feel like myself. Who loves me for me, not my success. And...I-I felt like I had to change something about myself to make sure of that."

"Well..you don't need to change anymore. I love you no matter what you look like."

He blinked, his face turning as red as his cheeks.

You could sense his embarrassment from the way he tensed up in your arms and chuckled, patting his hair softly. "Just..don't feel pressured to change for me..or anybody for that matter, okay? Or at least let me know if you're gonna change things up again."

"You don't think..I look stupid or creepy like this?"

"No. Honestly you look pretty handsome. Black hair suits you well."

Hearing those words made him breathe a small sigh of relief. He nodded and hugged you tighter.

His new looks were staying for good.

[jordanstrophe]

A Cinnonmon Bun to Pure for this World, 8

Maslterlist

CW: recovering conditioned whumpee, PTSD,  stabbing, physical fight, manhandling, soooome medical whump at the end

“Mister Richard!” Cin ran into the kitchen.  “Hey! Good morni-”

“How do I make money!?” He cried, jumping into his lap and grabbing his coat collar. 

“Woah woah woah, slow down there, tiger...” Richard chuckled, lifting him back onto his feet. “What on earth do you need money for? If you want something, you can always ask. You know I take care of you here.”

“Of course you do, Mister Richard! And I am very appreciative. I owe you my entire life, work, blood, dedication and soul!” He chirped. 

“Uhhhh.”

“Anyway! I need money for that nice man I met in the alleyway.”

“Cin... Cin no.”

“Cin yes!”

“Cin we don’t give money to... People we meet in alleyways. Especially when they have knives and threaten to hurt you.”

“But Mister Richard! He was so kind about it!” He swayed around on his feet.

Richard tilted his chin up to make sure he had his attention. “Just because someone is charming, doesn’t mean they're good. Sometimes the bad people are the good-looking ones.”  

Cin’s head tilted in bewilderment, then his eyes narrowed as they darted left to right. 

‘Oh what I would give to know what was going on in that head of his," Richard thought.

“Why don’t we go for a walk today? There’s a dock not far from here I think you’ll like.” He smiled. Cin’s face halfway disappeared underneath his sweater, but he reluctantly nodded. 

-

Richard purposely took the route that had elegant stores. Cin stared at every window he passed with wide twinkling eyes, muttering a tiny ‘woah’ under his breath after passing each one. 

“Let me know if you want to go in anything.” He said, but only silence answered.

 He felt a presence missing from his side.

“Cin?” He turned around to find him frozen, staring blankly at a window. “Cin!” Richard called, walking towards him. He noticed his hand twitching violently, the closer he got the more he could see his trembling. 

‘Oh dear…’ 

He gently took Cin’s arm to pull him away from whatever was triggering him. The window he was standing in front of was an appliance store, the display covered in knives and tools. 

“Oh Cin…” Richard took his shoulders and steered him away. He crouched down till they were face to face. “Look at me, you’re alright.” 

He still didn’t move. His face was blank, but his eyes were wide with horror. Richard reached to touch his hand, his fingertips just grazing as Cin flinched back and cried out like he had been struck. 

“Hey hey hey! It’s okay. You’re okay.” He turned on his calm coaxing voice. “No one is hurting you, you’re safe.” His hand hovered just inches from his shoulder, but he didn’t dare touch him. A high pitch sound was coming from Cin’s throat, a whining, maybe crying. He didn’t know, it was almost inaudible.

“Hey, come walk with me.” Cin twitched slightly in his direction, his eyes unblinking, but he obediently gave his hand. “There you go, that’s it.” He encouraged. 

He walked him to the next window, a toy store with a display of colorful stuffed animals. Cin didn’t seem to see them as he stared dead ahead. Richard turned his hand until his body turned with it, the only thing in front of him now was the colorful display.

“My mother took me here when I was a child. Told me I could pick one thing of whatever I wanted.” He gently wrapped his arms around him from behind. “But she was a cruel woman who wouldn’t let me buy the 500$ lego ferris wheel.” He chuckled. 

He could see Cin give off a small smile in the reflection of the glass. “I guess what I’m trying to say is… Do you want to pick something? I know it’s a bit childish, but you can never be too old to have fun, eh?” He rested his chin in Cin’s hair. He felt a tiny nod. 

Before he could take his hand, Cin was the one who took his, and led him into the store. Richard was surprised, but went along with it.

They silently walked the isles, Cin’s eyes darting to study every single thing he passed. He still clutched Richard’s hand behind him, pulling him along. His eyes locked on to something as he stopped.

It was a stuffed octopus with a happy smile. Cin pushed his hand into its soft head as it sunk in. “Oh! I think that’s the reversible ones.” said Richard. Cin looked down at his hand to try and figure out how to do it without letting go of him. He ended up locking his elbow around his arm so he could use both hands. 

He flipped it inside out, the color changing from dark purple, to red with a tiny mischievous face. Cin started to laugh, flipping it back out.

“Is that your pick?” Richard chuckled.  “...Yeah.” Cin murmured with a smile. 

-

Cin held the octopus close to his chest as they walked the dock. “You like your octopus?” Richard asked. “I love it! Thank you, Mister Richard! Its name is Fishsticks.’’ He smiled proudly.

Richard didn’t question it, he just hummed in acknowledgement. A wave underneath them passed as Cin cringed and pressed his body against his side. Richard wrapped an arm around him for support. 

“Mm… M-Mister Richard, may I please go ahead to the car?” Cin whined. 

“We’re almost there, stay with me.” He soothed. “Bu-but it’s right there! I’ll go straight to the car, plleease?” He begged. Richard really, really did not want Cin on his own again.

“I’m sorry, hon. But I would really be more comfortable if-” Cin turned Fishsticks to the angry face, cranking it’s mischievous eyes to stare at him. Richard started to regret letting him have that thing.

“Cin, I-” He peeled his eyes off the octopus's face to see Cin’s sad devastated one staring up at him.

“Ugh! Okay fine! But straight to the car, young man. Got it?”

“Got it, Mister Richard!” He cheered, running off down the dock. 

“How on earth am I going to keep this man alive…” He muttered, burying his face in his hands.

Cin made it to the end of the dock, hopping off with a relieved sigh. 

“Wait… Cin?!” A voice called. He froze as he glanced around. “CIN!” The voice shouted angrily. He spotted a white vehicle parked nearby, the window rolled down with… 

Nathen.

The door slammed open as he crawled out of it, burling towards him with his hands extended with confusion.

“..N-Nathen?” Cin took a step back. Nathen’s face twisted even more when he saw his defiance.

“Where have you been!? I’ve been looking all over for you!” He hissed. He grabbed his arm and yanked him forwards as he grunted. “Please don’t tell me you got into any trouble out here. I swear if you talked to any cops.” He jerked him up by his arm so he could growl in his ear.

“You were… looking for me?” He looked up at him with gleaming eyes.

“Of course I was, you idiot! You wouldn't last five minutes out here by yourself! ...Unless you got adopted by some pack of wolves of course. Now into the car, let's go.” He nudged.

“But! But Mister Richard!” Cin pointed in his direction. 

“Who the-.. Whatever, just get in the car.” He roughly started dragging him by his arm. 

“W-wait! Nathen! I can’t go!” He cried, weakly struggling against his grasp. His cries and pleas were ignored as frustration built in his chest.

“I... Said… NO!” He shouted, twisting his arm as he broke free. “Wha-?”

“I-.. I don’t want t-to go with you an-anymore!” Cin squeezed his eyes shut, crossed his arms and stood up straight. His posture died a little when he peaked an eye open to see murder written on Nathen’s face.

“I erm, I mean… No... P-please?” Cin returned to his self conscious posture, shying away. 

-

Richard had caught up, coming to a stop when he found Cin talking with a stranger. Great… What did he get himself involved with now?

That... That was no stranger.

“CIN! Come here now!” Richard commanded, his pace increasing. He could see Cin glancing fearfully between the two men, taking a step back. 

Nathen’s eyes shot to Richard, finally piecing together what had happened. His face turned soft into a charming smile. “Sweetheart, it’s me! You know me, I’m family! Come home, little one, I missed you.” He gently reached a hand out. “If you come home with me now, you won’t be in any trouble, mmkay? Everything will go back to the way it was. Don’t you miss me? I’m the only one who can take care of you, remember?” He smiled.

Cin whimpered as he his arms hugged himself, visibly trembling. 

I should go home.... I wanted to go home so badly this whole time! 

He wants me.. Still.. After all the trouble I caused.

Trouble follows me everywhere, he’s… He’s the only one who can put up with me.

“Cin, please! Don’t listen to him! I know what he’s saying is temping, I do! But do you remember what I said this morning?” He begged.

Cin wiped his tears away, his eyes falling to the ground. 

“Just because something is charming, doesn’t mean it’s good…” 

Richard smiled with a proud sigh at his words. Cin took another step away from Nathen, but not before a hand snagged his hair. “Aah-!” he cried.  

“You! What have you done to him!? After everything I did, everything I taught him, you unravel it!? Do you know how hard it was to get him that way?! Nathen barked. 

“You didn’t teach him anything! You conditioned and abused someone who depended on you!” Richard grabbed Cin’s arm, ripping him from Nathen’s gasp as he fell backwards into the grass. 

“You don’t own him, Nathen! Not anymore…” He growled, stepping between him and Cin. Nathen raised a brow.

“So he still talks about me, hmm?” He crossed his arms. “He must miss home so, so much. I’ll tell you one thing, work has been soooo much harder without him being the lil distraction. So I’d really like my baby back.” He shrugged.

“Oh, over my dead body!” Richard yelled. “Round two then.” He smirked, pulling a knife from his belt. 

-

Cin struggled to sit up, finding the two fighting over a knife against the car. Nathen was shorter and less built compared to Richard, who had his wrist pinned to the window. He took his hand and slammed it against the glass, shattering it as Nathen let out a grunt. The knife fell from his grasp, causing Richard to ease up a bit, forgetting he hadn’t quite won. Nathen used his free hand to grab his hair, slamming his head against the car. 

He hit the ground, dazed, but surprised Nathen wasn’t immediately on top of him after his fall. He blinked up to find Cin on his feet, Nathen behind him with the knife to his throat.

“M-... Mister Richard?..” Cin whimpered, tears silently falling down his cheek. 

“N-no! Nathen please, do-don’t do this! Don’t hurt him!” He begged. 

“Ehh, it’s a little late for that.” He shrugged. “Looks like I won again, ‘Mister Richard’.” He chuckled. 

“Oh yeah?” He huffed, twisting his body till his back was against the car. “You-.. You forgot something this time.” Richard grinned, the hand behind his back revealing a phone that had been dialed. 

“...No.” Nathen gasped, as approaching sirens blared in the distance. “D-dammit…” He scoffed, his grip loosening. 

“I’m not letting you leave here, ‘Mister Nathen’. You lost.” 

Nathen’s eyes fell, his brain wracking as he weighed his options. His face slowly turned into a deathly smile. 

“We’ll see.” 

Cin let out a gasping choke as the knife was plunged into his chest. 

“NO!” Richard cried. 

Cin crumbled on his knees at Nathen’s feet. His hand dug into his hair to push him over on his side as he stepped over him. 

“No no no no no no no!” Richard crawling over to him, pressing the palm of his hands into the wound. Nathen had climbed into his car, hitting the gas to fade down the road.

“Cin! Stay with me! Keep breathing… Please! Keep breathing! Hey!” Richard sobbed. 

His every breath was a light wheeze, but at least it was a breath... 

Fishsticks laid nearby, its blood-spattered mischievous face blankly staring at the blue sky.

(CIN IS NOT DEAD, I REPEAT, CIN IS NOT DEAD.)

@milk-carton-whump @whumpasaurus101  @happy-whumper @as-a-matter-of-whump @alien-octopus @unicornscotty  @yesthisiswhump @flower-whump @whitebluebell @shokuhoemisaki

ʕっ• ��� • ʔっ  Thank you for reading!

Special thanks to @milk-carton-whump​ and @just-a-whumping-racoon-with-wifi​ for helping me pick one  ( ◕◡◕)っ ♡

[writing-prompts-for-friends]

Questions to Help World Build

I’ve realized I have a big problem with my writing. I am awful at world-building. Like, I just start writing without thinking about the world. And since I write fantasy. Well. That’s pretty no bueno and leads to all kinds of problems down the road. So I did some brainstorming with my friends and we created a list of over 100 questions to help think about our stories’ worlds and make them more concrete. Thanks to everyone who chimed in and gave me a hand! 

A traditional Japanese clock, wadokei, that counted hours from 9 to 4, starting from sunrise, and then starting once again from sunset. (1-3 were not used for religious purposes.) They’re super interesting and confusing. You should definitely check them out.

Temporal

Is your story set in the past, present, or future?

Specifically, what year(s), month(s), day(s)?

Are days 24 hours? Or does time pass differently in this world?

How many months are there in a year? Is it a seven day weekday? Does the concept of weekends exist?

Have most existing societies developed a timekeeping device?

Is there a way to communicate across long distances?

The concept of time zones is still relatively new to our world. Prior to the late nineteenth century, timekeeping was a purely local phenomenon. Each town would set their clocks to noon when the sun reached its zenith each day. Do standardized time zones exist across the world?

Geographical

From a planet perspective, is it Earth? If it is not Earth, or an alternative version of Earth, what is it like? Is gravity the same? Does it have a moon or multiple moons? Can you see other planets? Is it closer or further from the sun? If so, what impact does that have on the climate and passage of time?

What town, state, region, country, continent, planet does this story take place in? What are its bordering/nearest neighbors? Draw a world map if you want.

What kind of land is it? Landlocked? Mountainous? Along the sea? Desert? Tundra? Tropical forest? Plains? Agricultural? Industrial?

What kind of plants and animals are common to the area? Are there any that do not exist in the real world?

What are the most common crops and livestock in various regions? What geographic features influence certain regions ability to grow/raise their crops and livestock (positively and negatively)? Are the regions diets strongly influenced by what they are able to grow themselves, or do other circumstances (like strong international trade) allow them to have more varied selections? How does religion influence what is considered ‘normal’ to eat?

What, if any, natural disasters are common to the region? Earthquakes, floods, tornadoes, monsoons, blizzards?

How many seasons does it have? Are any longer than others?

What is the typical weather like for those seasons?

Does the region have any unusual geographical features that set it apart? Perhaps there is some weird thing like Devil’s Tower just chilling out. Or hot springs because of volcanic activity?

Is it easy to travel from place to place within the area? Is it difficult to travel because of terrain/technology issues, or because travel is strictly regulated?

Main Locations: Cities

Many stories take place within one city. In Neil Gaiman’s Sandman, a character remarks, “So, if a city has a personality, maybe it also has a soul. Maybe it dreams.” What personality does this city have? What soul does it have? What does it dream of when it slumbers? If your story takes place within a settlement, town, or city, give these questions some thought.

Exactly where is it located within the lands you conjured up in the above Geography questions? Does it have a bay? A river? Does it butt up against mountains? Draw a map of the city.

How big is the city? Is it compact, or sprawling?

How old is the city?

What is the history of the city? How did it come to be? What tumults and triumphs has it seen?

What is the population? Is it currently increasing, decreasing, or remaining the same?

Does the town have any claim to fame? Any tourist attractions? What are they? What’s the story behind them?

If it’s a big enough city, how many and what kind of districts does it have? Residential, Commercial, Industrial, etc. Where are they?

Are there any areas that are deemed unsafe? If so, where are they and why are they unsafe?

Is there public transportation? What kind, bus, tram, train, subway, monorail? Is it good?

How do people get around this city if not by public transportation?

Are the roads narrow or wide? Crisscrossing in a methodical grid or higgledy-piggledy?

What are the buildings like? What materials are they made of? If they’re wooden, are they new wood, old wood? If they’re painted, what colors? If they’re stone, what stone? If they’re brick, is it new red brick or blackened, crumbling brick? If they’re glass and metal, are they sparkling with new hope or dull and jaded?

Are there many skyscrapers? Or are most buildings 1-3 stories tall? What does the skyline look like?

Are there many parks?

How is the city powered? Coal? Hydroelectric? Wind? Nuclear? Has it always been so?

What is the city’s main source of revenue? Agriculture? Tourism? Manufacturing? Mining? Something else? A combination? Dive deeper into this. If it’s agriculture, what do they grow? Tourism–what is famous? etc. This will help to determine what a lot of people do for a living.

What are the demographics? Ethnicity, age distribution, distribution of upper, middle, and lower class, etc.

How many schools are there? Universities? Are any of them good? Do they specialize in anything? Do schools even exist? Perhaps there are clans that teach their children everything they need, for example, or education isn’t viewed as important.

Are there any particular landmarks within the city that standout?

How many and what kind of restaurants are there?

Are there supermarkets, open air markets, or both?

Where do young people go to spend time? What about adults?

Do people there bustle or do they amble?

What are the nights like? Does the city grow quiet, or does it grow rowdy?

What does the city smell like?

If you had to give your town a color, one that represented its personality, what color would it be?

Main Locations: Houses (or buildings, but mainly houses)

There are many stories that have a house or headquarters or hospital or some sort of building as their main setting. These questions will mostly be geared towards helping you figure out a house, but you can apply these to other buildings too probably.

Exactly where is the house located within the city or outside the city? How does your character usually get there? Draw a map. 

What year was the house built?

Was this house built by the current family or their ancestors? Who else lived in the house before the current dwellers? What were they like? Did they leave their mark on the house somehow?

What style is the house? Bungalow? Cabin? A shed? A cave? (makes the following questions mostly useless if so lol)

How many stories is it?

What is it made of? Wood? Brick? What color is it?

Does it have a lot of windows?

Are the curtains usually open or drawn? Are thee curtains at all?

What does the front door look like? 

Is there a porch?

You enter the front door. Or maybe you don’t. Maybe you use the side door because the front door is for show or something. Anyways. You enter the house. What room do you step foot into?

Draw out the floor plans for each floor. How many rooms are there? Where are they? How big are they? How are they connected? What color are they? What style of decor?

Is there a basement? Is it used or is it just a home for spiders and darkness and unwanted things? How about an attic? Crawlspace?

How many bathrooms? 

Are there any rooms that only certain people are allowed to enter? If so, why? 

What is the flooring? Carpet? Wood? Tile? Linoleum? 

What does the house smell like?

Government/Military/Economy

In other words, “the boring stuff,” if you ask me. But this is a very important aspect of any world. 

What sort of government is in place? Democracy, oligarchy, etc? Is it a just or corrupt government?

How are goods exchanged? Bartering? Money? Coins and bills? Credit cards? A specific kind of sea shell? Lol

What are the police like? Strict? Lax? Is there a curfew?

Do taxes exist? If so, do the people feel as though they are heavily or unduly taxed?

Where is the intersection between theology and law? Is it common to have religious leaders in positions of power? Are laws based around religious ideology, or is there an effort to keep them separate?

Is there an organised structure devoted to halting criminal acts? Are they corrupt? Who runs the organisation? How does their reputation change based on demographic? What is the history of the organisation, and how does that history influence how it operates today?

Regarding potentially criminal acts, what is the elgality of prostitution, sex work, ect.?

What about drugs and other illicit substances? Alcohol, illicit drugs, recreational use. Legality, festivity, age limits, etc.

Underbelly. How prevalent is crime, what sort of crime (scaled from pickpocketing to human trafficking) is there? Are there areas that have bad reputations because of it?

Regarding war, are there currently conflicts in the world? Are they international or civil wars? How common is it to have an active war? What is the history of war? What does current warfare look like (Is it dudes in metal suits swinging swords? Have longbows been invented? Gunpowder? Tanks? Missiles?) Is military service mandatory or voluntary? How is the military seen? Is there a sense of patriotism for the military, or does the common man fear it?

Is there stigma around certain genders entering the military? Are come genders regarded as better recruits than others? Is it illegal for some genders to enter the military? Does a person's sexuality affect their ability to serve?

How has religion influenced war? Have there been holy wars in the past? Do any religious institutions hold their own military forces?

Cultural/Historical

I’ve put these together because events in history lead to cultural change. You can apply these questions not only to the world/country, but also the city or even the neighborhood, workplace, or school that your story takes place in.

What is the history of the region? Who was it settled by? Was another group of people displaced? After that, did any new cultures come in? Did they get along?

Were there ever any wars or serious conflicts in the region? What was the cause and what was the outcome of the war if there was one?

In our world, the internet, social media, and film/tv are massive cultural drivers. They determine the latest fashions, jokes, topics, and expressions. What are the big cultural drivers in your world? Books? Plays? Radio? Oral tradition?

Is it a collectivistic or individualistic society?

What languages are spoken by your characters? Is multilingualism common?

What sorts of cultures can be seen? Do any clash? Do any mesh?

What sort of foods are most common?

What superstitions do people hold? Is there a version of “knock on wood” or throwing salt over your shoulder after a funeral? What are the roots of these superstitions?

Are there religions? If so, what are they? Do any conflict with each other? Are zealots or extremists an issue?

Does slavery or indentured servitude exist?

Are there any class or caste systems? If so, what are they, and what does an average day look like for a member of each class/caste?

How does a person's appearance change from country to country? Do certain countries have very distinct fashions? If so, are the fashions influenced by religion, surrounding countries, the cultural majority or international trade partners?

How does a person's clothing relate to their social standing? Is it very easy to assume someone's roll by appearance alone? Are there punishments for dressing above or below your social standing?

Does the society place a great deal of importance on a person's presentation, or is the society more lenient on such things?

Is there an emphasis on conformity to a dress code, or is individuality encouraged? How strictly is clothing regulated by gender binary? Is it commonplace to see a man and a woman walking down the street in the same cut of clothes? Is there a social stigma when a person does not conform to the most common form of dress for their gender?

How are sexual rights viewed? Does the LGBTQ community have the same rights as people outside the community? How are sex acts between people of the same sex viewed? Is it legal? Taboo? Are there cultures that encourage those relationships in some circumstances (like how the romans were down with guys with guys in the military)?

Are there any groups of people that are victims of prejudice? If so, who are they, who holds these views against them, and what views specifically are they?

In regards to gender, do certain societies hold differing beliefs? Is there a commonly accepted number of gender identities or does it change regionally? Is the most common gender spectrum a binary, or do certain racial and cultural differences allow for a wider range to be seen as the baseline?

Are children raised by their biological parents or are children considered to be in the care of the wider community? Is it common/acceptable for extended family to raise children, such as parents needing to study, work, or serve time in the military? Is adoption a common thing in society? Is there a stigma around adoption/being adopted? Do cultural or religious views impact how adoption is seen by the wider community? What is adoption like for a single perspective parent? When adopting, is interracial adoption accepted/common, or is it seen in a negative light? Are some societies more open to adopting children outside of their own race?

How is sex and virginity viewed? Does religion influence it? What is the age of consent? What is appropriate on a first, second, third date? Is sex something that is talked about openly, or something taboo? Are you supposed to wait until marriage? Do couples stay monogamous while dating? Do some regions place higher importance on virginity than others? Do some place higher importance on one gender’s virginity than others?

How is marriage viewed? Are arranged marriages a big thing, or are people free to choose? Is monogamy common? How is a marriage symbolized? A wedding ring, or something different?

How is divorce viewed? What is the divorce rate? Can people remarry?

Magic and the Supernatural

If magic or spooky stuff doesn’t exist in your story, disregard this section.

Does magic exist? If so, who can use it? What are the limitations to their magic? What things are they capable of using their magic to do? What things are they incapable of doing?

Are there laws against what kind of magic can/cannot be used? What sort of laws? Who enforces them? What are the punishments for breaking said laws if they exist?

How does the existence of magic affect religion? Are there religious institutions that infuse magic into their worship? Are there religious sects that see magic as immoral and in direct opposition to their faith? Have there been conflicts in recent or ancient history between religion and the supernatural? Do some sects employ people to hunt and/or enforce law over the supernatural?

Assuming that magic does exist, is it taught? Are there different schools of magic? Is there a system of ranking for magic users based on their skill level?

Do non-magic users look towards magic users with respect or fear?

What role does magic play in this world? Has technology not advanced because magic solves many problems? Or has technology advanced and the use of some magics has become unnecessary?

Are there any mythological creatures/monsters, such as vampires, demons, skinwalkers, dragons, or other creatures of your own creation? Are they common? Do people believe in their existence? Do people worship them? Where can they be found? Do they interact with humans? Do humans fear them or try to put up with them as they do nature?

Do the dead continue to exist in some form, such as ghosts or zombies or the like? Can the dead be summoned or brought back to life?

Are there human/supernatural hybrids? Perhaps a half-demon half-human, for example? How are these people viewed by their peoples, and by society as a whole?

How has the supernatural influenced war? Do armies tend to have a mix of regular and supernatural soldiers/weapons? Have there been wars between the supernatural/magical and those without? How does magic influence a person standing in a mixed army? Is it more likely for a magical being to be promoted than a non-magical being? Conversely, are supernatural being forced into service and seen as pawns?

The End!

Please feel free to reblog and share, and add on any questions you think should be added!

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

HASO, “Milkshake.”

You guys seem to be enjoying it, so here is some more fluff with Eris .

Hope you enjoy!

Eris sat on the couch in the living room; the TV was on, but she wasn’t really paying attention as her eyes kept drifting towards the front window which looked out on the front lawn and the street beyond that. Jim was sitting across the room for her and Martha was working on another clothing pattern for Eris. She had really latched onto the idea of making clothing that was comfortable for her, which Eris appreciated immensely though she wasn’t sure if she'd be confident in wearing them.

People would think she was weird.

She glanced out the window again, hoping to see a car pull up.

He said he would be here today sometime in the afternoon. She knew it was only 11, but she desperately wanted to see him again despite her nerves and her continual feeling of isolation. Why did she care about this man so much? Yes he had saved her life, yes he had provided half of her DNA, but no, he hadn’t chosen to have her, no she hadn’t grow up the normal way with him as a father figure, and no he still wasn’t really in her life.

He was a busy man.

He was important.

And what was she to get in the way of that? 

Nothing, that was the answer. He was big, important and successful, and she was a violation of his privacy.

These thoughts rolled around in her head as she sat on that couch. She knew the vast majority of them were irrational, made by her own mind to make herself feel inadequate, but she just couldn’t push the thoughts away. She wondered when she had turned into this person, someone who wondered about their adequacy and worried about their appearance. Once upon a time she remembered being powerful and terrifying to the people who had wronged her and her little family.

She remembered being confident in what she was doing.

Perhaps it was the loss of her goals and purpose that had driven her to this.

Once the others started getting adopted and brought into new families her work had grown less and less, and she became obsolete and lost in a universe that was vast and unknowable. The others were being taken care of, but no one had returned for her.

No one had seemed to consider that she was just like the others.

She had been created against her will and had never been given time to grow up.

With all the responsibility of other people’s thoughts in her head.

What was she doing?

It was only then that a sudden thought from Jim jogged her from her spiraling self doubt. With his human hearing, he could make out a car pulling into the driveway. She quickly got to her feet and turned to look at the window as the car stopped and the door opened.

Her heart jumped in her chest as Adam stepped out into the early morning sun. He was a little different than she remembered. He stood straighter and held his head higher. He still wore the eye patch she remembered and still had the same messy hair, but there was something about him that changed in the months since she had last seen him.

Behind him, a large blue shape exited the vehicle as well and stepped onto the pavement.

It was him, Sunny, the little doctor named krill, and Adam’s dog.

The dog’s mind was very very strange, driven by impulses and instincts as she snuffled around in the grass, but when she turned back to look at Adam, there was such an intense feeling of love and admiration, Eris had to pull away.

Adam rubbed the dog’s ears and walked up towards the house as the other two followed behind.

Martha got up to grab the door and Jim turned in his seat.

The door opened, and the group of them stepped inside, waffles, the dog, running in to greet Jim, who she had an unusual affinity for.

Martha hugged Adam tight, “So good to see you.” She pulled back hands to his arms, patting them with a frown on her face, “You’ve been working out.”

He smiled slightly, “Thank the Neo-Spartans for that.”

He reached over and shook his father’s hand, as his arms were busy with the pile of dog that had scooted her way halfway onto his lap, “Looking good.”

He nodded to Sunny who stood behind Adam, “I heard about your Sainthood. Congratulations. That’s a big accomplishment.”

Eris felt the pride radiating from Sunny as she lifted her head into the air, “Thank you Jim.”

Martha nodded, “You’ve come along way since we first met.” She gave sunny a hug too 

Martha’s thoughts, once cold towards Sunny had warmed up over the past year. A small part of her even began to see Sunny as another daughter, thought that was the fact about Martha Eris had come to notice. She tended to adopt any little lonely thing she happened to meet; even the little doctor who walked in last.

She smiled, “Dr. Krill I see you haven’t died of complications relating to stress yet.”

The Vrul’s antenna twitched a little and he hummed his amusement, “Not for all of your son’s trying.” Despite how calm the little creature seemed, Eris could see in his head as a myriad of emotions flew through him. He thought that this place was a complete death trap, and had to constantly remind himself that humans were more durable than they looked.

In a way she thought it was kind of cute that he would worry about his companions so much.

Then Adam’s eyes turned to her.

She tried not to listen in on his thoughts, really tried. She didn’t like to pry into people’s minds. A lot of people didn’t like that when they knew what she could do, but she couldn’t help as the flood of strange emotions came pouring from the man’s head. He was a little different than other humans, he had a lot going on in there, and his thoughts and Emotions hit him hard and fast.

What did she expect.

Anger

Bitterness 

Betrayal 

annoyance 

She was invading his privacy, injecting herself into a family she had never been invited into. WOuld he resent her for that? 

But instead she felt.

Excitement.

and...

Nervousness?

What did he have to be nervous about.

The man walked over, and to her surprise picked her up into a crushing hug lifting her feet completely off the floor. She marveled for a moment at how strong he was, forgetting that humans tended to be on the strong side, second only to drev. He set her down smiling, and she felt a jenuine well of happiness wash over her tinted slightly with guilt, though he did a good job at keeping that to the back of his mind.

“You know what, I think you’ve gotten taller.”

She smiled, “Or you’ve gotten shorter.”

He laughed, “That is a complete possibility.” She continued to smile as he patted his chest, “I am getting old after all.” He looked over towards Jim, “Aging like my old man.”

“Shut up.” Jim harumphed, “I can still kick your ass.”

Martha frowned, “Are you implying that I am old Adam.”

He turned to smile at her, “Not a day past 21 mother.”

Martha crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow, “Someone is looking for brownie points.”

“That depends, did you make brownies?”

She rolled her eyes, “No, I did not make brownies.”

He frowned.

“But I did muffins.”

“Score.” He said flopping down on the couch next to Eris as Krill floated to sit in the chair next to Jim.

The two of them watched the game, Jim seeming to enjoy Krill grimacing at every play and screaming at the TV for letting the humans knock each other out. He especially seemed to enjoy the medical descriptions of all the horrible issues they were probably having from all of that running into each other.

“So, how are you liking earth.” Adam asked, draping one of his large arms over her shoulders. Eris was struck with how nice the gesture felt and looked up at him, his head tilted to the side.

She smiled slightly, “I like it, it’s so warm and bright, and you have good food.”

“You can eat human food huh?”

She smiled and nodded, “We haven’t tried everything yet, but I really like strawberry ice cream.”

He snorted, “Lord she developed David’s poor taste in cold flavored delectables.” 

For a moment she worried she had really upset him but was soon proven wrong when she could tell he was just teasing her, “So how are you a herbivore or a carnivore.”

Eris felt herself blanch a little bit. If her blood had been more visible through her marble Starborn skin, she might have gone pale.

“I uh…. I haven’t tried eating….. An animal yet.” She shivered at the thought. How could she? How could she eat something that used to be alive?

He smiled seeing the look on her face3, “Don’t worry, no one is going to force you too, though I dare say meat is good, your probably won’t regret trying it at least once.”

From across the room she could hear dr. Krill’s thoughts. He was more similar to a plant than he was to an animal, and the thought of consuming something that was living also baffled him, Though a part of him admired how “metal” It sounded. Eris frowned as she looked at the little doctor.

She had red the mind of Vrul before.

They had been strange to her, very alien in their processes, but Krill.

Well she might have thought he was just a very strange human had she not been able to see him.

The humanizing phenomenon perhaps>?

She couldn't be sure.

“So Eris, how about my offer from earlier, how would you like to go see where I grew up.”

She turned to look at Adam, who was staring at her expectantly. 

She shuffled her feet awkwardly, “I would like that.”

“I will show you all the great and wonderful places I got beaten up. It will be a grand time.” She looked inside to see that he was just joking again. He did have some bad memories associated with the town, though the vast majority of them were good. She could see and feel the vibrant joy of fireworks and colorful parades as they passed through his memory. She could see cold calm lakes and feel wind blowing through the forest.

She nodded.

Martha turned to look at Sunny, “I’d like to keep you and Krill behind tomorrow if you don’t mind.”

Sunny looked up from here she was staring intently at the TV yelling over Jim’s shoulder at the reff who, to her, had made a very poor call.

“Of course, what do you need us for?”

“Alternative clothing designs for aliens. I think there is a large untapped market, and I want to see what I can do with it.”’

Adam grinned across the room at sunny, “Ah, she has finally roped you into being one of her guinea pigs. Enjoy.”

“Adam was such a good little guinea pig, and looked so good in a dress.”

Adam snorted and waved a hand, “I rocked the regency period as I have said before and so I shall say again.”

Eris leaned her head against Adam’s side as she listened to the ongoing banter between the group of people.

She tried not to pry but couldn’t help soak up the memories that popped to the surface of his head. Warm sunlight through an open window, the sound of a sprinkler, and the yell of children’s voices in the distance.

For a moment she became jealous of it before hiding that away in the back of her head.

THere was no use resenting others for something that wouldn’t change.

She would make the best of what she had.

That night, Eris slept in the same room as Sunny, whose memories were remarkably less pleasant than Adam’s, while Adam got his old room back. He would have shared with Krill, though Krill didn’t sleep, and spent most of the night watching late night television, which he found both strange and haunting in ways he wasn’t so sure was good.

She drifted in and out.

She wasn’[t entirely sure if her sleeping patterns were normal. She needed to recharge like the humans did, but seemed to go into a trance rather than into real sleeping. She dreamed, but hose dreams were more hallucinations which appeared about the room around her. Occasionally, she learned that she was able to share the dreams of others, and so took a ride along with Adam as he was joyfully able to fly without the need for a jet or a jetpack.

The feeling was so vivid she jolted awake when it was all over, sure she was going to find herself hurtling through the air.

That morning they had muffins, which melted in her mouth and made her insides growl. They weren’t as vocal as human innards, but apparently the smell of the muffins woke something deep within her.

Sunny was presented with a bowl of dandelions Jim had picked from the backyard that morning.

He was a little nervous that it might seem rude or degrading, but Sunny definitely seemed to appreciate the gesture. Krill didn’t need anything other than a glass of water, though Martha opened the curtain on the back sliding door to let in the early morning sun.

It fell across both her and krill, and her body hummed with its energy.

Adam stood and turned to look at his father when breakfast was over, “Can I borrow the car keys.”

Jim looked over at him skeptically, “You… drive… I don’t know about that.”

Adam frowned, “Oh come on, I fly spaceships for a living.”

Jim snorted, “yet, somehow every time you get in a vehicle that has wheels on it, you turn into my granny with a led foot.”

“Promise I will be safe.”

Eris smiled,  his memories reminding him of all the jokes about being a bad driver .

Jim just rested his hand on his forehead and looked at Eris, “Lord knows I have never known a man with such poor command of motor vehicles. Ans you see if have seen this boy fly a jet in formation with seven other jets four feet apart and his hands are rock steady, but put him in a car, and he overcorrects into the ditch.”

Adam frowned, “That was my FIRST time driving.”

Jim finally relinquished the keys to him, “take the car, it’s an automatic. Everyone knows you shake her brains out if you tried to take the truck.”

Adam grumbled and took the keys, “Its the 41st century dad why do you even still need a stick shift.”

He crossed his arms, “If we are ever attacked by an EMP burst, that car is the only thing that is still going to be running, now get out of here.”

Eris followed Adam out the door, her little black cloak swishing behind her.. She hadn’t wanted to wear anything to obvious yet, so martha had grudgingly decided to at least make her something that looked better than her old ratty sweatshirt. It was a short cloak thing with a hood, and she thought it looked kind of nice,   though she kept the hood low over her face. Adam slid into the driver’s seat of the car and Eris got into the other seat clipping on her seatbelt as he turned and began backing out of the driveway.

They jolted a bit as he moved into first and he glanced over at her, “Don’t tell my dad.”

She smiled somewhat as he inched forward and then began to pick up speed. The look of concentration on his face, and the white knuckles of his hands almost made her laugh. She could see him flying in his memories.

But for a man who loved to fly, he sure hated to drive.

“I’ll show you around the two first, than we can get lunch and after that we will find places to get out of the car and take a look around. Does that sound good?”

She nodded, though she wouldn’t have argued with him if he wanted to ride in circles all day. It was nice being here with him. Since they had last met his thoughts had calmed down significantly.

In the back of the car, his dog waffles sneezed and then rested her chin on the console.

Eris looked sideways at her sensing that the animal was looking for attention. She reached out a nervous hand and stroked the dog’s ears. In the back seat her tail thumped against the upholstery, and she grumbled happily.

“And out your right side of the window is the local high school  or what I like to call the department of corrections against happiness. Eris winced, there was a lot of thought coming out of that building, and none of it very pleasant.

“Thank goodness I only went there for like a year.” he grinned, “I was flying planes after that.” He tapped his chin, “I can never decide if it counts as me dropping out of high school or graduating early, or transferring schools.” he shrugged and kept going, “That’s the middle school on the left, arguably just as bad as the high school but with younger people, and right next to that is the elementary school.”

“So many?”

He shrugged, “Yeah I have no idea why they do it this way, but that’s the way it has been done for a very long time.”

Eris had obviously never gone to school. She didn’t really need to.

She could know anything she wanted to know as long as someone else around her knew it. She could read and write and do math well enough. It was a little harder with muscle memory as that wasn’t something she could read. So, while she knew how to make most of the clothes that Martha could make, she might not be so good with a sewing machine.

“That’s the park. I used to like climbing up to the top of that tree in the middle, and down over there is the drive in movie theater. It’s one of the only ones left in this country, kind of more for nostalgia than anything..” he was able to lift his hand rom the steering wheel and point over at something else, “You have the grocery store over there and then that parking lot is where all the redneck kids used to go to get drunk.”

Eris leaned forward feeding off the memories those strange places gave him. He showed her little hidden spots down by the rivers where his brothers and him used to go swim. He showed her places of significance for the town, and even those locations where he had been sure he had seen an alien. The thought made her smile considering he had one in his car now.

Eventually he turned away and pulled into a small diner on the edge of the town.

He looked over at her, “Best place to eat in town, I know it doesn’t look like much, but trust me get yourself a milkshake at the very least.”

She nodded and nervously got out of the car with him, walking by his side as he made his way across the parking lot and to the little building. A bell dinged as they walked in,  and she found only a few people sitting inside this time of day. The two of them seated themselves at a booth and Eris looked around,

It wasn’t like the many other buildings Eris had seen. It was old with a checkered floor pattern, and red upholstered bar stools. All of it looked new enough and clean enough, though something about it just felt old.

There was a jukebox playing music in the corner, something that had been obsolete for almost two thousand years. No wonder Adam and Martha liked this place. Martha with her doctorate degree in the information age, and Adam with his obsession over turn of the century rock music.

They were greeted just then by a pleasant faced portly little woman with grey hair.

Hermemory was a vibrant one.

She had worked here for a very long time, a sweet southern bell moved up from the south and married to a man in town. She had worked at this diner for over three decades and seen everything that passed through. Adam remembered her as someone who had been a fixture of the town, and his memories were pleasant.

When he had been alone and hurting, he had come here just to be in a safe environment, and this woman had had pity on him and made him a milkshake for free before sitting and talking with him when her shift would allow.

He smiled up at her and she lit up in surprise.

“Why if it isn’t sweet little Adam!” She looked him up and down, “Not so little anymore, lord it was only yesterday you and your brothers were in here causing trouble.”

He smiled, “And you angela, looking as beautiful as the day I met you.:

She snorted and waved a hand, “Oh stop, I’m old and wrinkly.”

“Old, you don’t look a day over twenty five.”

She laughed again, “Your flattery won’t work here dear. I know you have a penthouse on the moon.”

He snapped his fingers, “Pity.”

She turned her head to look at Eris, “And who is your friend.”

He looked across the table, “I uh, this is Eris.” Eris hunkered down in her hood a bit, “She’s my…. Daughter?”

Angela looked skeptical, “Boy i’ve never seen you look at a woman sideways, so forgive me if I don’t believe you.”

Adam smiled a bit ruefully, “Well it’s complicated.

Eris slowly raised her eyes towards the woman’s curiosity and as soon as Angela saw her face she put a hand over her heart and held up a hand, “Lord have mercy!” Eris braced herself for the disparaging thoughts, but instead the woman sat down next to her, “Why dear, why don’t you take off that hood and show us your pretty face.” There we go, and look at that long gorgeous black hair. You know them fancy modeling places in the city might just eat you up.”

She turned to look at Adam, “Aliens? Really?”

“She was grown from my DNA, but…..” He paused mulling something over before deciding to speak.

“But I WAS dating a different alien for a while.”

Angela did not seem surprised.

“For a while? Something went wrong?”

“I screwed it up.” he sighed, “Still trying to see if I can get back in her good graces, but who knows.”

Angela just smiled and shook her head, “You were never going to be normal, Adam, but not that that’s a bad thin.: She stood and looked down at Eris, “What can I get for you.”

Eris cleared her throat and in a small voice, “A milkshake””

Adam nodded up at her, “Strawberry, that’s her favorite.”

She nodded, “And your usual?” 

“Yes please.”

She smiled at them and walked off with a pleasant wave. When she came back Eris learned he was right about their milkshakes. It was so good and filled her mouth with just enough flavor. He polished off a milkshake and a Hamburger, and Eris really had no idea where iit all went. He was a black hole when it came to food.

Angela gave him a hug on his way out, and even spared one for Eris before commenting on her hair again, which Eris would have blushed at if she could blush.

Afterwards he took her just a little out of town to the top of a tall hill. On this hill there was a tree and a tire swing with a picnic table. Clouds rolled lazily over the sun as he sat down in the grass and she sat next to him. She could hear dogs barking in the distance, and somewhere the elementary school was out for recess.

Adam closed his eyes and leaned back in the grass.

“Sometimes I get so wrapped up in my love for space that I forget just how much I love Earth.” He sighed and the two of them could smell freshly mowed grass and pine trees.

She lay back with him.

“I was thinking about maybe staying here with your parents for a while.”

“Your grandparents.” he corrected eyes still closed.

She felt her heart beat faster, “Yeah, if they’re ok with that.”

“I don’t see why not. Mom always liked having someone around to help her with her projects. She uses dad when she can and he suffers silently for her, but I think she'd enjoy your company.”

“You do?” Eris wondered 

“Well I don’t see how she couldn't. I enjoy your company.”

She felt a thrill through her insides.

He turned to look at her, “I AM sorry I can’t be…. more. “ his words didn’t say as much as his thoughts could, and it were those  that helped her understand what he really meant. He would offer to take her in any day of the week, but that would mean her being alone more often than not while he was away, and he didn’ want to do that to her. 

He thought she deserved better.

She wouldn’t argue with him about that, for she understood his reasoning and sentiment and tended to agree.

Both of them knew that his parents were a pretty great idea.

She could be happy here

[moralitas]

Fallen Angel: Destiel scene but Sonadow

Little collaboration between myself, @teamxdark​, and @nutkin​!

We all saw the destiel scene and went “okay but sonadow” and what started as a joke got a ficlet and some art.

I was told to @mintywhisker​ bc I think they inadvertently started this for us.

Sketch was by Nutkin, lineart/coloring by myself, and writing by teamxdark!

Shadow heaved a breath, his brain fuzzy from exertion. Warping the ARK back into orbit had been a herculean task, and he was already feeling his body pay the price. The universe around him blurred and swam in front of his eyes, with the stars disappearing into the endless void of space.

Space around him seemed so vast and Shadow felt so small. The Ultimate Lifeform felt like less than nothing in between a world, a colony, and the universe itself.

Yet Sonic was larger than life somehow.

The other hedgehog was still grasping at his hand, jubilant at their victory. Shadow could sense his joy, could see it in the bright pulses of light that seemed to come off of him in waves. In the middle of everything, Sonic shone stronger, glowed warmer, burned brighter than the sun. Shadow could feel his energy seeping far and wide, revitalizing him by a fraction, enough to focus his sight and his thoughts again.

Sonic was like life itself, condensed into one singular magnificent being.

Shadow knew now, more than ever, that he was a goner.

It didn’t make logical sense. He knew that. But almost nothing about this situation made logical sense. How did someone hold the power to Chaos Control with a fake emerald? How did someone manage to retain their super from after such a major effort, while Shadow, the Ultimate Lifeform, created to hold and manipulate Chaos Energy as part of his purpose, was struggling?

Sonic was stronger than Shadow.

Sonic was stronger than Shadow.

And sometimes you didn’t need logic to know that your other half, your soulmate, the one that held your heart was right there in front of you.

Shadow felt his strength continue to ebb, and he wanted to do one thing right in his life. He wanted closure. He wanted solace.

He wanted to be.

“Sonic.”

Glowing red eyes turned to him, eyes strong with life and power and warmth. Shadow felt himself get pulled in, and his tongue loosened, letting his thoughts fall free from his lips.

“When Maria died… I wondered if I could ever be happy again.”

Sonic’s face morphed into a look of confusion. Shadow wasn’t deterred. After all, it didn’t really matter the outcome of his speech.

He wasn’t going to last much longer.

“I always wondered, ever since I saw that moment, that awful moment, I wondered… If I ever could feel it again. What true happiness could feel like. I never found an answer, because the one thing I want… I can never have.” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “Something I know I can’t have."

Maria… I always wanted you to come back. I didn’t know how to live without you.

Shadow heaved a sigh. That was the easy part. Now for the hard part.

Sonic’s hand was still warm around his own. Shadow gathered his courage and continued.

“But I think I know… I think I know now. What could make me happy again. Happiness… isn’t always in ‘having’.” Shadow’s eyes reopened, but nothing came into focus. Sonic, brilliant and glorious, was a golden blur that his eyes savored. “It can be in ‘being’. It can be in just… saying it.”

“What are you talking about, Shadow?” Sonic sounded confused. Sonic sounded concerned.

Shadow kept going regardless. It was now or never. He would not die with these thoughts bottled up.

“I know… I know how I’ve been. How I’ve presented myself, to you and everyone else. Destructive, and angry, and broken, and… and the professor’s weapon to wield. That hate and anger… that’s what drove me. Like that was who I am. But it’s not.” Shadow took in another breath, but the fog in his head was seeping in and refusing to clear. “This whole time… I was driven by love. Everything I have ever done, the good and the bad, I have done for love. Love for someone I would never see again.”

Shadow could feel the energy begin to die in his body, feel the power inside him drain and dissipate, but he pushed on, determined to see this through. “And then I saw you, and I know… I know you’re the same. You guide your friends for love, you fought for this whole world for love… That is who you are.” His fingers squeezed Sonic’s, indulging in the warm energy that exuded from his grasp. “You are the most caring man on earth, you are the most selfless, loving person… that I will ever know again.”

Maria would have loved you.

Shadow blinked, and a few tears fell. Sonic remained silent, and Shadow couldn’t see his face in between the tears and the blurriness of his vision, but it didn’t matter. Whether reciprocated or not, Shadow wouldn’t be alive to see the consequences of his confession. 

“You know, ever since we met, ever since I first fought you, knowing you has changed me.” A silent laugh escaped his lips, and Shadow felt the tug of gravity begin to bring him down. “Because you’ve proven everything I thought to be true to be wrong. I learned that the world is not filled with nothing but cruelty, I learned that I was not alone in my power, I learned that caring for others was not something that held me back from what I was really supposed to be fighting for all along… A world where people could be happy and safe.” His mind flashed to Rouge, and their unfortunate final conversation. He hoped that she knew that he held no ill will against her. “I think I’ve discovered, now, what the Ultimate Lifeform is. I think… it might be you.” And that’s why I know the world will be safe with you. I know I can trust you with Maria’s final wish. “You changed me, Sonic.” Shadow’s head swam with dizziness and his soul sang with emotion, too many to identify and appreciate in the moment. He took a few more breaths, but they did nothing to bring clarity to his mind.

“Why does this sound like a goodbye?”

Sonic’s voice finally made its way to Shadow’s ears, and Shadow felt himself smile, in spite of himself. His words weren’t falling on deaf ears, and though his mind was too far gone to tell what Sonic was feeling, he was pretty sure he could feel a few tears that weren’t his own fall onto his arm as gravity pulled mercilessly at his legs.

He could hope, but again, it didn’t really matter now if his feelings were reciprocated or not.

“Because it is.”

He felt it now, the coldness of space, the hollowness that spread as his super form gave out, and the only thing keeping him suspended in the air was Sonic’s grip around his

wrist. Shadow closed his eyes, not planning on reopening them. It was now. His final truth, to be said before all, yet only to be heard by one.

“I love you.”

And he felt his heart pick up speed, because this was a new love, unlike the one he had felt for Maria, unlike the one that had been growing with Rouge. This was a love that he had only ever heard about before, a love that he always considered as something that belonged in the stories Maria had read to him when he was still young and growing and learning about everything around him. A love that he wanted to bask in, like the sun’s rays, or like Sonic’s unyielding brilliance.

He felt his wrist begin to slip as the inhibitor ring loosened. Sonic still said nothing, but Shadow didn’t mind. It was a lot to take in, and perhaps it was better this way. Shadow could die, not burdened by the sting of rejection or the longing for what he could have if he had managed to pull through.

His wrist slipped even more, and he felt Sonic jolt. “Shadow, wait--”

“Sayonara… Sonic the Hedgehog…”

Gravity claimed him. Shadow hardly noticed when his hand slipped free of the ring. He felt himself plummet, yet he felt the lightest he ever had in his life. He had fulfilled his promise to Maria. He had protected the world from his own mistakes, and found someone to keep it safe in his absence.

He had fallen in love.

As he fell into the atmosphere, burning upon entry, feeling as though he were surrounded by hellfire, Shadow the Hedgehog had no regrets.

He only felt happiness.

…

Some minutes later, on board the ARK, Sonic clutched at Shadow’s ring as he stared out into space. The others had scattered, talking to each other and making sense of what had happened, and what would happen next. Sonic knew that they had questions, they had concerns, all of them, Amy, Rouge, Knuckles, his brother… but he wasn’t ready to face them. Not yet.

Sonic heaved a breath, fogging up the window in front of him. The loss stung him more than he could possibly fathom in that moment, still fresh and new. He was alone in the observation deck, now. He squeezed the ring in his grasp, making a mental note to pass it on to Rouge. He wasn’t…

He wasn’t ready to hold it for the rest of his life. He wasn’t ready to be reminded of…

“Sayonara… Shadow the Hedgehog…”

Sonic left the room, and didn’t look back.

[beatleszeppelin]

If I asked you to stay, would you?

Summary: After a tough case, Reid stays home from work. You have to check on him. He looks sick, so you take him to the doctor, and it’s your job to take care of him.

Category: Sick Fic

Warnings/Includes: First couple paragraphs are sad criminal minds things, but feel free to skip that, and mention of puke

Word count: 4k

Written in (gender neutral) second person.

The piercing cold, and slight drizzle falling out of the dark sky around, adding insult to injury. Spirits were low, as rain washed a child's blood from the dirt. The case had not gone ideally; two lives lost, and the team just had to walk away.

 A somber walk back to the cars freezing water hitting, stinging his face. Reid’s nose was red, clothes and hair sopping wet, freezing. He got to the back seat of the car, he pulled his knees up, and let his head fall onto his hands. Morgan and JJ waited outside the car, giving the kid a minute alone. 

The drive back was quiet, JJ glanced back ever so often hoping Reid had fallen asleep, but every time she’d look back she would see his head pressed against the window, eyes darting with every opposing car. The street lights passed over, illuminating his face, and a shine lingering in his eyes. She’d put a comforting hand on Reid’s knee, like a mother would on a long car ride.

In damp clothes he finished his reports, and finally left the office at two. 

He entered the subway tunnels, light coming out as a path marker. The eerie feeling that comes with two a.m. is in the lingering, on the streets, in tiled subway tunnels, and definitely present in anything the moonlight touches. There is a surprising amount of people on the subway for being so early. A man in the corner, held a bag with paper towels in it. A little farther along was an old bag lady. Finding someone normal to sit near was going to be too much to ask for, until he saw a woman, sleeping and seemingly destitute, a baby squirming on her lap. He waved. And she returned it.

So he sat. He was talking to her, and playing with her. Doing magic has always gotten him far with kids, except when he was one. She squealed as he pulled a coin from behind her ear and he laughed along. She laughed at the look of him smiling, and when he leaned in to make funny faces at her, her giggle turned into a cough. He patted her back a little bit, to quiet her barking cough, trying to not wake the baby’s mother. If you’re tired enough to fall asleep on those plastic seats, then any sleep you could get must be a blessing.

His stop neared, and he pulled 20 dollars from his wallet and slipped it into the woman's purse. He also shook her shoulder to wake her up, his conscience wouldn’t allow him to leave the baby unattended.

“Sorry for waking you, I just thought…” He said nervously, and awkwardly smiled and waved goodbye to the baby.

“Thank you,” she whispered. And she started to pat the back of her daughter.

He got off the metro happy, and walked the rest of the way to his apartment, the yellow glowing street lights making the falling rain sparkle as it fell to the earth.

He got home and wanted to get some sleep before he had to get up and go to work at nine. He didn’t want to shower and change, he could do that in the morning. He threw a soft blanket across the couch. He sat down, and kicked his converses off of his heels. He laid down, wet hair hitting the pillow. 

***

You walked up the stairs to his apartment. You have twenty minutes until your lunch break is over, but when Garcia told you to check on Reid you knew you had to.  He has a tendency to shut everyone out; say he’s fine when he’s actually far from. He would say he’s fine until he literally exploded. 

You walked past apartment #19, #20, past an empty coffee cup on the floor, #21, then you ran back, picked up the coffee cup, and threw it away at the end of the hall. Apartment #23, you knocked. “Hey Reid, you there?” You tried knocking harder. “Hey kid let me in!” You were about to pound the door down like you were the cops, but you heard a click. Reid unlocked the door, and squinted at you.

“Why,” he cleared his throat a little, “Why are you here?” 

“Hi, it’s 1 in the afternoon, you didn’t show up to work today, and apparently you guys 

had a particularly bad case last night.”

“It’s one?” he said walking back into his apartment, to go find a clock.

You walked in, and straight to his kitchen, to wash your hands after touching that coffee cup. 

“You didn’t purposely not come in today?” 

“No, you’re insistent knocking woke me up.”

“So, you’re wearing your clothes from yesterday?”

“Yeah, I’d gotten home late last night, or actually early this morning, I guess.”

“Are you feeling okay?” You looked at his hair that was sweaty and stuck to his forehead.

“Kinda tired, I guess, but I’m fine.” He said staring off, trying to focus on how he actually felt.

“Here let me feel your forehead.” You reached up and pressed your hand to his face. You couldn’t tell, because you had just washed your hands rendering them cold. You ran your hand through his hair, and kissed his forehead. It was warm. His face turned red, and it came in splotches.

“I think you’re a bit warm. Would you like to try to get to the doctor before they close walk-ins?”

“No, I’m fine.”

“Then I’m going to go back to the library. I hope you find a good excuse for not going to work today,”  You said, but couldn’t make a move for the door.

“If I don’t go, will you leave?” He asked, raising his eyebrows.

“You look really red, your face felt pretty warm, you slept in your wet clothes last night, and you may try to mask the fact that chills have been making you vibrate in front of me, but there is no way your not sick, no matter how many times you tell me you’re fine.”

“Okay, but I am fine.” He said, arms crossed, before heading to his bedroom to get dressed.

You waited in his apartment, absentmindedly flipped through some of his books. There were stacks of books everywhere; every spot you could fit a book, there was one. Two stacks of books were towered on his coffee table. On top of one was The Bell Jar by Silvia Plath, you hadn’t read it since high school, but you remember it being forward, and a bit unnerving.

Reid’s door opened, startling you. He walked out wearing a striped shirt and a sweater, with his signature mismatched socks and Converse. He looked comfortable, and very childlike.

“Are you ready?” You asked him.

“Yeah, I’ll grab my keys.”

“You drive?” You ask, never having seen him drive, you just assumed he didn’t or didn’t know how. How could you assume there was something that Dr. Spencer Reid didn’t know how to do.

You followed him down stairs to the parking garage, to a 65’ Volvo. “This is your car?” You asked.

“Yeah?”

“It’s so cool, I did not picture you driving something like this.” You didn’t picture him driving a cool older car, but you also didn’t picture him wearing mismatched socks, or dressing up for Halloween every year without fail. At this point nothing he did would surprise you.

“You didn’t picture me driving something cool? So, you don’t think I’m cool?”

“Well now I think you're cool, I mean after seeing this car.”

He pressed the volume button to turn on the radio, Tchaikovsky, the universe is restored. It was a ten minute-ish drive to the doctors. He signed in at the front desk, and you went to sit down. There were two seats under a window that you chose. The dark green vinyl was hot from the sun, but it was the only two isolated seats that you could see, other than the two girls that had the seats leaning on the wall. One of the girls had her hand under the other's skirt, and were kissing, very passionately. Hope one of them isn’t sick. You picked up one of the magazines next to you to avert your eyes. Home decorating, not the best option, but the bright colors and Pinterest mom’s will definitely keep you occupied.

Reid walked over to you and sat down, you could see him looking at the girls in the corner, and his face had bright red splotches on his cheeks. “Hey, are you into this?”

“What? No!” he said in a high pitched voice, like that of one of the chipmunks in Alvin and the Chipmunks. “Then why is your face bright red?”

“Maybe because the seats under the window are hot, and you shouldn’t be touching those magazines. They are one of the grossest things in here. Actually, the pen used at the front desk is, it has 46000 times more germs than the average toilet seat. That’s why I bring my own.”

You set the magazine down. “Hey is your face warm, you're still bright red?”

He looked over at you, shrugged at you and did his little awkward smile, and looked back down at the ground, head resting on his hands, elbows resting on his knees.

“Spencer, Spencer Reid!” A woman yelled from the doorway. 

Reid smiled and waved as he stood up.

“Wait, do I come in with you, or should I stay out here and see if I can join a thruple with those two?” He grabbed your wrist, seeing as to not touch your contaminated magazine hand, and helped you up to follow him in.

You guys walked back and the NP asked him to take his shoes off to step on the scale, he stepped up, a lime green sock and one purple striped sock now showing. “153 pounds,” the nurse said.

“Now stand over here so we can get your height,” You picked up his shoes for him, as she guided you across the hall to mark his height. He stood, back against the wall, “Okay, stand up straight.” He rolled his shoulders back and tilted his chin up. “6 foot 1 and ¼ inches”.

You passed his shoes back to him, following the nurse to one of the rooms in the back. You got to sit in one of the chairs that mom’s would sit in and talk for their kids. He hopped up on the bench, with a crinkle of the paper.

“The doctor will be in shortly,” she said, right before the nurse left the room.

Reid scooted back against the wall, letting his head fall back. You looked over at him, his face still looking flush, and his eyes were closed as he sat there. 

A knock on the door interrupted your observation, but made Reid sit up, attention now focused on the man. “Hi, I’m Dr. Bradman. What brings you in today?”

“I don’t…” Reid said looking over to you.

“His face has been a bit flushed, and he may have a low fever,” You said for him. “Oh, and he was out in the rain and cold last night, I don’t know if that would do anything.”

Reid piped up to say “Actually, being in the rain and cold doesn’t affect whether you will get sick or not. Being exhausted, stressed, under emotional duress, and having allergies with symptoms pertaining to nose and throat are the main reasons people get sick. Other than catching if from someone who is contagious.”

“Hey, that’s my line,” The doctor said, sitting down on a chair with wheels. 

Reid awkwardly smiled, looking down at his hands.

The doctor took Reid’s temperature, asked him a couple questions, and left for a couple minutes. 

You and Spencer sat in the room for a couple moments in silence, he was looking sicker by the moment. And after a while of silence, his head resting on the wall, eyes shut, the doctor walked back in.

“It looks like you are sick, your temperature was raised a bit, and the redness on your nose and cheeks is a common symptom of sixth disease.”

“Wait, that’s roseola, right?” You asked.

“No, that’s only for children under the age of three.” Reid said, slightly perplexed.

“Well yes, but it can occasionally affect adults who’ve never contracted it as a child.”

Reid’s shoulders dropped, “How long will it last?”

“It should clear up in the next three to five days.”

“Okay.”

“You can take medicine to reduce the fever, and stay hydrated.”

You two left the office, but not without teasing him on the way out. “I once babysat a kid that had sixth disease. He was up all night crying, do you need me to babysit you?”

“No! Just because I have a baby disease doesn’t mean I’m a baby” He crossed his arms on the walk back to the car.

“Do you want me to drive, so you can get some rest?” You asked, holding a hand out for his keys.

“Is this another joke?” He pushed his eyebrows together, and cocked his head slightly.

“No; no it’s not.”

“Can you drive a stick?” 

“Uh yeah, actually. I had a truck that was manual in high school.”

He gave an impressed nod and passed his keys over.

On the way home he laid his head against the cool glass of the window. His breath, making water bead up and fall. You walked him up to his apartment, but before you left you wanted to make sure he’d be okay.

“Do you have a thermometer? I just want to see what your temperature is before I leave you.” 

He walked away to his bathroom and came back with a thermometer sticking out of the side of his mouth. He was pouting, you don’t know if it was because you made him check his temperature or if he just felt sick. You pulled the stick out of his mouth after hearing the beep.

“100.3” You put your hands on his face, burning. “Do you want me to stay here for a little bit?”

“You don’t have to…” He said and raised his shoulders to shrug. “I know I don’t have to, but do you want me to? It would be no trouble.” You said walking to his kitchen to wash the thermometer.

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“I would like you to stay, please.”

“Okay, why don’t you go to bed and try to rest, and I’ll run to the store and get some food for dinner.”

He nodded, “How long will you be gone?” Reid’s voice broke.

“Not too long, I should be back before you wake up, but if you need me just call me.”

“M’kay.”

You walked out of his apartment, down the stairs, running your fingers across the banister. Should you grab some clothes in case you need to spend the night? Yeah, might as well run home and get the car before going to the grocery store.

At the store you pick up some soup, popcorn to eat while watching a movie, cough medicine, ibuprofen (for the fever), and you couldn’t find any Gatorade, so you bought Pedialyte (I mean it’s the same stuff, and this is a baby disease). You also got a few other things you weren’t sure he had, and headed back.

When you twisted the key into the lock is when you started to hear some slight coughing and some whines in between. So, you put the soup on the stove, and went in to check on him. His face was covered in little red spots that trailed down into his shirt; he was asleep and his hands were balled up into fists by his face. Sweat stuck his bangs to his face, and every cough made him subconsciously whimper. 

Reid was asleep in front of you, looking like a baby. If people didn’t think he was a baby before, if only they saw him now. It’s hard not being able to help him, other than just letting him sleep, but when he wakes up he’ll feel a whole lot worse, so why not prolong the contentment here. 

You decided to go tend to the food, while he slept. In a few minutes though, you heard him get up out of bed and a door slam. You walked over to his couch, leaning on the arm rest waiting for him to come out. A couple moments went by and you were still standing there. If he came out now, it would be like you were just standing there staring at his door waiting for him, which is exactly what you are doing. You went around the couch and sat down, moving the pillows from how he had slept on them that morning. You picked up a book from the top of one stack, and opened it, but his door swung open. Reid stood there, in the doorframe, the sleeves of his shirt pulled down over his hands, his head hung low, and tear streaks down his face. His voice wobbled when he said “I threw up.”

“Are you okay, what do you need?” You asked, looking toward the giant toddler.

“I don’t know,” he whispered, and wiped his eyes with his sleeve.

“Let me check your fever.”

He nodded. You walked over to the kitchen to where you had left the thermometer, and while you’re in there you turn the heat off of the soup. You don’t think he wants it right now.

He puts the thermometer in his mouth and stares at you with puppy dog eyes until it beeps. He takes it out and hands it to you without reading it. “102.4!” You rush over to get some medicine, and a mug to put water in. “Here take this, baby. You must be miserable.”

He closed his eyes and gave a labored smile. Taking the medicine made him wince as he swallowed.

“Why don’t I run you a cool bath, to see if we can get your fever down faster?”

“‘Kay,” he started walking back to his room, stopping to brace himself on the wall.

You wrapped your arm around him, guiding him to his bathroom. You two stood awkwardly for a couple seconds not knowing what the first move was gonna be, but you sat him down on the toilet to wait for the water to fill. You ran the bath with lukewarm water, not hot, but not uncomfortably cold. Reid sat on his toilet, knees hugged to his chest, and his face and body were sweaty. 

You turned off the tap and looked at him quizzically. Reid quickly stood up to usher you out, but got a head rush and had to lean against a wall. You walked to the doorway and waited for his next move. He tried taking his shirt off, but only got one arm out; on the second arm his wrist got stuck on the sleeve. He flailed his arm for a second, before giving up and frustratedly slumping against the wall. You walked over to him, pulled his shirt over his head, and helped pick him up. You put your arms around his waist and pulled him up with little to no help from him. You two stood there for a second, holding Spencer; all of his weight leaned into you as you held him. He was shaking.

You helped him sit on the edge of the tub, and asked “How do we do this?”

“If I asked you to stay, would you?” He looked up at you with his big brown eyes.

“Absolutely.”

You helped wiggle him out of his pajama pants, and left him sitting in hot pink briefs. Then, turning around, you heard a little splash of him kicking his legs over, and then a slosh of water displacement.

“Okay, you’re good,” he whispered.

You turned back around and bent down next to the tub. He leaned his head on the edge of the bathtub and you folded up a hand towel and shoved it under for him to use as a pillow. You scooted back, and reached for a washcloth off of his counter. A small stack of them fell on top of you. You picked one up, that hadn’t touched the ground, and ran it under some cold water. After squeezing it out, you sat on the back of the tub, and dabbed it across Spencer’s forehead. He leaned his head against your thigh and looked up at you. You looked down at him, “If I knew I was staying here, I’d have run you a bubble bath.”

He smiled; you could tell his fever was going down a bit. Seeing him without clothes on, showed you just how much of his body was covered in little red splotches. They ran from his cheeks, down his chest, and stopped a little lower than his protruding hip bones. 

A few moments of you silently dabbing his face was interrupted by a coughing attack, leaving Spence shaking a bit. 

“Laying back may not be the best thing for a cough, why don’t we finish up in here so we can sit on the couch, maybe watch a movie or something?”

He nodded.

“Do you want me to wash your hair, it’s wet already from the washcloth,” you handed him the washcloth, and picked up the mug he drank water out of earlier.

“Yes please.” He placed the washcloth over his eyes and you dunked the mug in his bath water. You poured it over his head as he leaned back.

“Where’s your shampoo?”

He leaned forward and handed you the bottle. Johnson’s cotton touch 2 in 1 shampoo and body wash.

“You use 2 in 1 baby shampoo?” 

“It’s for sensitive skin.”

“It’s for babies.”

“If it’s good enough for them, it’s good enough for me.”

“Can we at least buy you some conditioner some time?” You asked, giving him a mohawk with baby soap.

“Sure,” He said, defeated.

You pour the cup over his head again, rinsing his hair clean of soap. You handed him his towel from behind the door, and walked out, leaving the door open a little and sitting on his bed in the next room in case he needed you. In a minute he walked out in pajama pants with little cowboys on them, and a robe. 

You got up, went to his bathroom and brought out a comb. “Sit,” You scolded.

He sat on the edge of his bed, you behind him brushing his hair.

Once you were satisfied with the style, you linked arms with him and went out to the living room. He started moving the books and things off of his coffee table, while you went to go make popcorn. 

You came back with a box of saltines, a bowl of popcorn, and a bottle of pedialyte with a straw in it.

“Is this another joke?” he asked reading the label.

“No, they were out of the other stuff.”

You sat down, handing him the box of crackers. His laptop was open on the coffee table, and he threw a blanket across the both of you to share. 

“What are we going to watch?”

“Star Trek” he said and pressed the spacebar to play it.

“You’ll like it,” he said and put his head on your shoulder. “Hey, thanks for staying with me today.” 

“It’s no problem, I like hanging out with you.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, and eventually we will need to buy you some conditioner.”

“It’s a date,” he said and snuggled closer to you.

You played with his hair until he fell asleep on your lap, leaving you watching Star Trek all night, but you do like it now.

[daydream-hobii]

Flowers & Weeds | Prequel to Roses & Thorns | Chapter 2

Genre: Prequel to Roses & Thorns; Poly!AU; Hybrid!AU; Fluff & Angst

Pairing: BTS x Female!Reader; Alpaca!Seokjin, Panther!Yoongi, Fox!Hoseok, Wolf!Namjoon, Bear!Jimin, Tiger!Taehyung, Bunny!Jungkook

Summary: Before Y/n rehabilitated hybrids, she was just an average rich daughter of a well-known hybrid breeder. She was also someone who didn’t want hybrids in her life, she didn’t like how they had to have an owner when really, they were more human than animals. When the government starts threatening her, she decides to get one to make them start. That’s what changes everything.

Warning: Mentions of Mental & Physical Abuse, Depression, Anxiety, and Suicidal Thoughts; High Suggestions of Smut; Future Mentions of Attempted Suicides; Read with Caution~ <3

Word Count: 1,370

Connected Series: Roses & Thorns

// Previous // Next //

Author’s Note: Welcome to Chapter 2! I hope you like it!! ^_^

        A couple weeks after adopting Taehyung, it was rare that I ever saw him. For the first week, he was non-existent. I was so worried, I’d start bringing his food up to his room and setting it in front of the door.

       Slowly, I’d see him examining rooms, but he’d become so frightened when he’d see me, he’d run back to his room. This morning was no different, I was making breakfast in my pajamas, making sure to set Taehyung’s on a tray for his room. When I turned, I jumped, looking at the tiger hybrid. I scolded myself, watching his nervous appearance. I expected him to run away, but he didn’t…. I smiled softly, pushing his tray across the island for him and turning back.

       I continued to make my own breakfast, smiling when I heard the scuffle of a chair moving. He was staying with me…. I finished my own plate, turning and watching him slowly eat his food. I set my plate down, beginning to eat in silence. If he wanted to talk to me, I’m sure he would. It wasn’t long before he opened his mouth.

       “Why are you alone…?” He whispered, making me look at him. His voice was hoarse, he hadn’t talked in a while.

       “Well, I’m too young,” I replied with a smile. “I haven’t really met anyone to be with, so here I am….”

       “How… how do you have this house?” He asked, slightly louder. His tail twitched behind him, eyes filled with curiosity, but also guard.

       “Well,” I started, frowning. “My father was an incredibly rich man. An incredibly horrid man…. He started a bank account for me when I was younger, and it all became mine when I turned 18.”

       “Oh…” He whispered, looking back down at his food and eating.

       “Do you like your room?” I asked, making him look at me. “Everything is alright, right…?”

       “Oh, yes,” He replied, again, a bit louder than before. “It’s all so wonderful Mistress… eh… I mean, Y/n.” He flashed an extremely small smile, before looking at his plate shyly.

       “Would you like to go shopping…?” I asked, making him look up from his eyelashes, surprised. “I mean… I know you don’t have a lot, and you don’t have much clothing. I could take you to the Hybrid Outlet Mall…?”

       “Um… sure,” He whispered. “Miss?” I moved my head to the side, looking at him as he looked up, straight in the face. “Why are you being so nice to me?” This was the most confident thing he’s said to me, and it caught me off guard.

       “Why wouldn’t I be…?” I replied, making him frown. “Taehyung, I see you as a person. I see you as my equal, not my pet. This world is a dark place where no one is kind to one another, and I don’t intend to do you any harm.”

       We continued to eat in silence, and once we finished, he stood to take his plate to the sink. He cautiously took my plate, washing both plates and placing them in the dishwasher. I thanked him, and we stood there awkwardly for a few minutes, staring at each other.

       “I’ve never had a bed,” He admitted, looking towards the entrance of the kitchen, which led to the living room. “I’ve never even had a room…. The bed was… weird on my back for a bit. I don’t think I was used to it…. I have never slept as good as I do here in my life….”

       I seemed frozen, stunned that he opened up so much. It showed me a little flash of his life, and my heart broke for him. What on Earth had he gone through…? I sighed, nodding my head and turning, grabbing my keys. He wore pajamas, which were much nicer than his clothing, and decided to wear them. We walked out the door, going to my car and getting in to go to the mall.

       We first went into the hybrid accessories store, where we bought a collar and leash. I let him pick his colors, as well as what seemed most comfortable. The law required he be on a leash unless in an off leash hybrid park, how absurd. I was surprised to see him choose grey, but I bought them. I carefully clipped it onto him, his skin flinched under my soft touch, making me frown.

       We went to a multitude of stores, and I saw multiple hybrids of all kinds. There were very few who looked happy, maybe three or four, the rest looked like… robots…. My heart was heavy as I hadn’t been in a hybrid mall since I was young. 

       Every store we were in, Taehyung would get so excited. I could tell he was holding himself back, but a little glimpse in his eyes showed just how thrilled he was. He would pick so many clothes, and try them on and show me. I giggled at his reactions, some were perfect, some were a definite no. I noticed he was a very tasteful and fashionable person, he loved so many name brands, and I was happy to provide them.

       Once we were all finished, we each carried multiple bags. They were filled with all sorts of things, clothing, toys, decorations, posters. Everything! As we began walking to my car, his mood seemed to shift. He was tense, almost nervous. I felt his hand brush mine a couple times and, eventually, his pinky latched with my own. I smile to myself, not fully holding his hand as to let him breathe. He was still so nervous, I didn’t want to ruin any progress he may have. 

       Taehyung stopped at a store, staring in the window with almost heart eyes. I stopped, looking at him confused before following his gaze. It was an incredibly fancy laptop, one that was a lot of money. It looked like a gaming laptop, making me move my head to the side. I let go of his leash, telling him to wait. I went inside, quickly bought it, and walked back out with the box. Others seemed to be staring at him, and us, awkwardly. I bit my lip, I shouldn’t have left him…. He was too stunned to care, however, and stared at me in shock. I smiled, grabbing his leash once more and walking out and to my car, where we returned home.

       Later, we were in his room together, and I was hanging up his clothes. He was decorating his room with everything he had gotten, and had his fancy laptop box on the desk saved for last. I hadn’t seen him this happy yet, and it filled my heart with joy. He was so sweet, and excitable, it was such a nice side to see.

       “Alright, looks like we’re all done,” I said with the flash of a smile. He nodded, sitting on his bed. “I’m exhausted, I think I’m going to go to bed, okay?”

       “Okay,” He replied. “Can I set up my laptop…?”

       “Tae, you don’t need to ask my permission,” I said with a smile. “You can do whatever you like in the home. You’re safe here.” He nodded, making me smile.

       I walked to the door, opening it and walking out, but before I closed it, he called my name. I turned to him, looking at him curiously. He hesitated, before flashed a small smile.

       “Thank you…” He whispered, only making me smile large. “for everything.”

       “You’re welcome, Tae,” I whispered back. “Now, get some sleep. I’ll see you in the morning.”

       I shut the door, walking up to my bedroom. I bit my lip, noticing I had a bubbly feeling in my heart. I didn’t expect to feel this way with a hybrid, but a realization was rolling through my brain. Taehyung was so broken, so sad, so alone… and now, he’s safe. I wanted to help more hybrids, I wanted to save them. That’s what my life purpose is, I just know it. With this in mind, I finished my nightly routine, crawling into bed. I planned on doing my research tomorrow, to understand the length I could do to help hybrids.

[managedmischiefs]

north//chapter sixteen

genre: angst

warnings: prison, stabbing, solitary confinement, mention of deaths

word count: 3.2k

summary: spencer is spiraling. amelia is too. being apart is weighing on them and hope has run out.

pairing: season 12 spencer reid x oc

like, comment, and reblog :) enjoy!!

SPENCER

Guilt is a feeling I'm far too familiar with. Guilt is something I can't escape and guilt is something that has run my life. Guilt always seems to follow me wherever I go like a black cloud floating over my head.

I always thought that strong panic could easily outweigh guilt, but clearly, I've learned my lesson. As I hear the coughs and cries and screams of agony from the other prisoners on my cell block, the panic settles in my body.

Rossi told me I was a good person. He swore I wouldn't be changed by these people and this place and he was wrong. He was so utterly and horribly wrong and I know if he ever finds out about this, he would be so disappointed in me.

And Amelia. My beautiful, sweet, innocent girl. What if she found out about this? What if she finds out that I purposely poisoned a batch of drugs? What would she think? Would she hate me? Would she leave me? I'm barely surviving prison but I wouldn't survive her leaving me. I could never survive life without her.

But I'm doing what I can survive. But I had a million ways out of this situation. I had a million ways to get myself out of moving those drugs and instead any of those other simpler, cleaner, easier ways, I chose to poison them. I chose the way that would cause pain and suffering for those who have wronged me, and I unintentionally chose pain and suffering for the one person who has helped me out in here. And now that Shaw is gone and off to the infirmary, what's going to happen to me? Now that my protection is gone, am I at risk again?

But then the panic starts to dissipate. The panic dissipates and all I feel this guilt. Overwhelming, suffocating guilt. I feel horrible. I feel like the worst person to walk planet earth. I am the worst person to walk the planet. I watch all these men get rushed onto gurneys and run down hallways on the arms of correctional officers and it makes my heart sink.

I'm officially one of them. I didn't even want to move the drugs. I was so adamant about not allowing this contraband to be distributed to the inmates and I did everything I could to not have to move them, but I got pushed against the wall and held down, literally and figuratively. I had no choice.

And just when I don't need it, Tara shows up. She shows up, waving her doctorate degree in the air, telling me that we need to do another cognitive. Another cognitive. Another cognitive. She needs to dive into my mangled brain yet again to figure out what happened in Mexico just twenty-four hours after I poisoned half of my cell block. Another cognitive could help with Stephen's new way of finding Scratch. What is that new way? She didn't even say. I don't even want to know.

But it's something to do. It's something to distract from the guilt that's eating me alive. It's something to distract me from the things I think when I'm in my cell. It's something to distract me from the images of Malcolm shaking on the floor or Delgado bleeding out. It's something.

But even though it's something, the pain is there. The pain of Mexico resurfaces and hits me tenfold. The pain beats me against my chest and bolts me to my chair, stinging the scar on my hand. This isn't what I need. I didn't need to be reminded of my trauma as more trauma is unfolding before my eyes.

"You're helping Nadie and she's responding," Tara coaches me through the cognitive.

I rack my brain for answers and images and sounds and smells but it just comes up blank. "There's nothing I can do."

"And what about him? I mean, you must feel him in your peripheral vision, behind you somewhere."

"Yeah, he's behind me." It's almost like I can feel him standing behind me now, watching me to make sure I don't reveal his hidden identity to Tara. Why can't I just put Scratch's face there and this can all be over? I can use say it was him and I can collect my get-out-of-jail free card. "I can feel him watching me, and I'm--"

My eyelids fly open, desperate to erase an image that has materialized in my head. It's horrifying and bloody and there's no way it can be true. But it must be true if I'm seeing it. It's true. That's it. This is the big answer everyone has been waiting for and it's the answer nobody believed could be possible.

"What is it?" Tara's voice seems so far away and so distant.

"It was me. I killed her."

Tara's face softens and I don't know how she could possibly look at me like that. "Spencer," I rise from my chair and go rushing to the door, banging on it to alert a guard that this is over and I'm ready to return to my cell, "Spencer, that's not possible. Reid!"

I don't sleep a wink. I don't even lay in bed. I don't want to face the nightmares of me stabbing an innocent woman who just wanted to help my mother. An innocent woman who had a family and a husband or wife and children and a whole life to live. Selfishly, I don't want to see that. And maybe I deserve to. Maybe that should be my punishment for killing her, as if prison isn't punishment enough.

I sit on the floor. I work out until my muscles can't hold my weight. I stare at the wall. I gaze out the window. I do everything I can to stay awake and I'm successful. I contemplate celebrating when I see the sun starting to rise and I jump up to make my bed in the perfect way the correctional officers want it. If it's not perfect, I get in trouble. More trouble than I've already gotten in. I’ll get embarassed, humiliated, degraded, exposed. I don’t need that. I make the bed once, and then twice, and fix it a third time. 

And then Tara waves around her doctorate again. She swears she needs more time with her “patient” and I'm dragged away after breakfast. I'm put in cuffs that dig into the bruises and cuts around my wrists and cuffs that make me bleed and cuffs that I still feel on my skin even after they been taken off.

I cant see the images anymore. I can't do it. I can't continue to be haunted by what happened in Mexico and I can't keep seeing Nadie's face in my head, whether I'm sleeping or not. I don't want to do another cognitive and see, yet again, that I'm a killer. I don't need it to be confirmed to me time and time again that I'm a murderer and that I deserve to be in prison until the day I die.

"I cannot keep doing this anymore, okay? I told you, it was better if you all just stayed away. You're making it worse." It's a beg. It's a plead for Tara to leave and not come back.

But Tara insists. She insists that my mind is just playing tricks on me. She wonders why I don't realize that. She wants to know why I'm not thinking things out. The cognitive yesterday gave her an answer she would rather not have. She confirmed yesterday that I'm a murderer and now she's back to see if she can force my brain to play a trick.

"Spencer Reid is incapable of killing an innocent woman in cold blood."

I lean close to Tara, but not too close. I'm not telling a secret. It doesn't need to be whispered. "You have no idea what I'm capable of."

"Look," Tara sighs, "prison is a difficult place. You've probably had to do things in here to survive that you would never think of doing in the outside world, things that make you feel guilty. But the brain has to handle that guilt, has to process it. And sometimes it spreads that guilt around into places it doesn't belong."

Guilt always seems to follow me wherever I go like a black cloud floating over my head. No matter where I go, the guilt is there. The guilt of killing an innocent woman, the guilt of abandoning my mother with basically a stranger, the guilt of leaving my girlfriend behind, the guilt of poisoning other prisoners. It's all there, all the time.

I stare down at my hands, raw and bruised and calloused and rough. "I could see the knife in my hand."

"We know that Scratch uses drugs to change our perception of what's real and what's not," Tara tells me. "He could dose you and tell you that you, I don't know, your favorite color is black and you'd believe it wholeheartedly. He could dose you and make you believe anything he wants and you’d never remember. That's what he does. That's what his drugs do."

She convinces me. I don't know how she managed to do it so easily, but she did. She convinces me to go through with the cognitive and in no time, my eyes are shut and I land back in that dingy, dark motel room with Nadie beside me.

I tell her what seems obvious to me. Someone bursts in the room, I move the knife to get closer to a stabbed Nadie and that's how I cut my hand, there's a mist over my shoulder, I turn to look at who it is but I can't see who it is.

"Do you recognize him?"

"No," I shake my head, scrunching up my face in frustration. He's blurry, but he's spraying me and it's getting more blurry.

"Focus, Spencer. Concentrate on who it is."

I clench my hand, pain shooting up my arms when the cuffs dig into my skin. I squeeze my eyes tighter and focus in on the image, and it actually gets clearer. I can see better. "It's Scratch," I whisper. "It's Scratch. It's Scratch. It's him. And he's drugging me. And I hear him say something."

I can see Scratch's distorted hand swirling around as she sprays me in the face, dousing me with her disgusting drugs. "What does he say?" Tara prompts.

It's time. It's time to go.

I see her holding out a pair of car keys to me, nails painted perfectly black, as she speaks in a sickly sweet voice. My eyes pop open. "Time to go," I repeat, "she says, time to go and then she just walks right out of there like she didn't have a care in the world, like she wanted me to chase her!"

It wasn't Scratch. It was a woman and I'll be here forever. If it was just some woman, there's no way to get me out of here. I'll die in this prison.

"It wasn't Scratch who framed me. It was a woman."

///

AMELIA

///

I'm not sure why I keep going back to the BAU. Nothing good ever seems to happen there, not since Spencer got arrested. The only happy memory I have is getting the smuggled letter from Spencer, but that isn't enough to cancel out the tears and the panic attacks and the pain that I've gone through on the sixth floor of this building.

So I'm not sure why I gravitate back here. It's probably because of Penelope. It's probably because I like to stare at the knick-knacks on her desk or stare at my own artwork on her walls and wonder if I could produce anything even close to that. Penelope herself is a reason to spend almost every day in a federal building filled with guns and pictures of dead bodies. She's one of the few reasons I'm afloat right now. After I throw an appreciation party for Jenna, I'll need to throw one for Penelope.

When I step out of the elevator, the first person I see is Emily. She's hurrying past the elevator, but when she sees me, she halts. And with the smile she gives me, I know something is wrong. For a moment, I debate not even getting out of the elevator so I don't have to face whatever new bad news I'm about to hear, but I know that I'll have to hear it eventually.

I step out, staring down at my tennis shoe-clad feet. "What now? Spencer's trial already got pushed back."

Emily clutches the case files in her hand and waves me along. "Come on, I'll update you."

The walk through the bullpen seems to take a million times longer than it usually does. But Emily finally leads me to the round table room and the first thing I notice is the face of a brunette on the screen. Penelope smiles when I enter, giving me the weakest wave I've ever seen from her.

"Who's that?" I ask, gesturing to the screen.

"That's Lindsay Vaughn." Emily explains, sitting down at the table, gesturing for me to do the same. It's the first time I've ever sat here and I almost feel unworthy. And I can tell I’m taking Spencer’s usual seat. That just feels wrong. I shift unconmfortably, wondering if it would be better for me to stand or move to a different seat. "A long time ago, Spencer had an interaction with Lindsay and her father on a case. Her father was a hitman so at the end of the case, the two of them were put into Witness Protection. Well, apparently, Lindsay left and she teamed up with Scratch."

"So this Lindsay girl is the one who drugged Spencer in Mexico and killed Nadie?" Emily nods. "So does that mean he's coming home?" It's too sweet of a thought. It's too easy. Of course he's not coming home. It's too easy.

"No," Emily shakes her head now, and my chest deflates. I should have expected that. "He identified her voice but there's no evidence. The team is out searching for that now."

"Her voice? How did he do that?" I glance frantically between the two women and watch as they look between each other.

"Okay," Emily leans close to me, and places her hand atop mine, "I have to tell you two really hard things right now. Just take a breath and I know it's hard to stay calm but you need to try," my teeth dig into my cheeks as I nod, but I don't promise. I don't make promises I know I'll break. I don't make promises unless they're to Spencer. "This girl, Lindsay, she killed Cassie and abducted Diana."

My eyes widen and I rip my hand away from Emily's grasp. "She took Diana?"

"She did," Emily reaches for my hand again, but I don't let her touch me. She sighs but continues talking. "She was stalking Reid for a while. She had pictures of him on a few cases, she even rented an apartment right next to his."

"Oh my god," I breathe out, leaning my elbows against the table and putting my head in my hands. "I can't believe it. He's in prison! What the fuck does Scratch and this bitch want with Diana?"

"We don't know," Penelope finally speaks up, "but we're doing everything we can to help Diana and to find her."

I stare down at the wood on the table and take a long breath through my nose, filling my lungs with stale air that leaves a bad taste in my mouth. "You said there were two things. What's the second thing?" I look up now, and I make the mistake of looking at Penelope first. Her eyes immediately fill with tears. It's about Spencer. Well, this is all about Spencer, but this news is Spencer.

Emily gulps and this time, she doesn't try to reach out for me again. "This morning, Reid stabbed himself in order to get thrown into solitary confinement."

I almost don't have a reaction to this at all. My eyebrows just raise in the tiniest bit because I don't believe it. Spencer stabbed himself? My Spencer? My Spencer who wouldn't even kill the spider in my bathtub. He had to catch it in his hands and release it onto the balcony. Someone who won't kill a spider wouldn't stab themself. Why did he stab himself? Why?

"You're not serious," that's the only feasible response I can think to come up with. "That's not--"

"It is, and it's a good thing, I promise." Emily tries to give me a smile but it only enrages me.

Penelope's eyes widen. "Emily, don't pro-"

"No!" I lose my cool, and as my voice raises, tears streaming down my cheeks. I jump out of my chair, knocking it over, but I don't even care. "Solitary confinement is not a good thing! Solitary confinement is where people go crazy and start seeing things! So don't tell me that Spencer stabbing himself is a fucking good thing because it's not! I'm tired of everyone promising me things that fall through! That's not what promises are for! Spencer could go crazy in solitary confinement and that's horrible!"

I turn on my heel and run for the door, pushing past JJ and Stephen, who don't even bother to try and stop me. Surely, they heard me yelling. But I hear heels behind me and I know Penelope has followed me and she's the only person I'd be willing to talk to right now.

She follows me all the way to her lair, and she even opens the door for me, allowing me to enter first. "She didn't know about the whole promising thing, Amelia, I'll tell the team," Penelope says quickly, pulling me into a tight hug when the door closes. "I'm so sorry. I wish I could help with more than just a hug, but this is all I can do."

"I wanna help him," I cry, squeezing her waist. "I don't want him there anymore and I wanna bring him home and hold him and--"

"And we're gonna get him out. We've been working with all the energy we have to get him out and find every scrap of evidence there is to exonerate him. I know you don't agree with Emily, but Reid is safe in solitary. He won't be around the other inmates. He won't be around the people who beat him up, and that's a good thing."

"That might be the only good thing about that. And poor Diana. She must be so scared, and so confused, and so lost. I don't know how she's functioning right now."

"We're gonna find her," Penelope pulls away, rubbing up and down my arms. "We're gonna find Diana, exonerate Spencer, and put Lindsay and Scratch in prison."

I smile through my tears, wiping my cheeks. "I think I'm gonna call Jenna and go home. I don't wanna interrupt you guys but the last thing I want is to be alone."

"That's a good idea. I'll keep you updated if anything happens." Penelope starts to lead me towards the door, holding it open for me.

"Don't." I shake my head, walking to the elevators. "I don't want updates. I just-- just do your jobs. That's all I need. I'll see you soon, Penny. I love you."

TAGLIST

@babybloodstonebones @bxnnywriting @blameitonthenight21​ @feralreid​ @anepiphany​ @reidscardigan​ @itsmyblogandillreblogifiwantto​ @stxrrywildflower​ @penemily​ @whollytaciturn​ @thegingerfairchild​ @yasminwashere​ @shrimpyblog​ @anamelessfacelessnerd​ @wonderlandhatter​ @whxt-to-write​ @inkandexchange​ @just-call-me-non​ 

[ikevamp-shrine]

The Ikevamp boys with a suicidal s/o

Hi! So, this is going to be super angsty and I 100 percent get if you don't want to write this, but...This year is the worst year of my life, so would it be alright if I request the vamps with a suicidal s/o? I don't care who you choose or how many (I love them all and I would request for all, but I'm sure that's too much...) I hope you're freling well and again, I completely understand if you don't want to do this. Take care 

Author: @ikevamp-shrine

Fandom: Ikemen Vampire 

Character(s): Le Comte, Sebastian, Napoleon, Jean

Warnings: suicidal thoughts, actions, and words, depressive content

So this is obliviously a very touchy subject, and I wanted to write this with more of the boys, but I needed to know how those who read this reacted. So practically this is just a “tester” writing. If y’all are okay with me writing more of this then please say so, but if this is too... hard (I don’t know what else to call it) then also please say so. If everyone is too uncomfortable with this then to the one who requested this- I will write this with the rest of the boys and will send it to you, and you alone, if you would like that.

1-800-273-8255 Suicide Hotline Number

 Le Comte

“What am I doing here Comte?”

The question that his s/o whispered had took him off guard. Putting down his book on the side table next to him, Comte looked at the human sitting in front of him in a recliner. Their eyes were filled with so much pain, and just... emptiness, Comte felt as if he was suffocating while staring into those colored orbs. 

“____? What is it? What is wrong?” Comte said speaking evenly as his eyebrows furrowed and a frown placed itself on the panels of his face. 

His s/o slowly glanced over to the roaring fire place emitting a soft glow that caressed the blank expression on their face before rasping out, “what am I doing here? What is my purpose in this life? Why am I here living, breathing, existing,” they paused their speech to sigh deeply, running a shaking hand through their hair, and shifting slightly to stare at Comte with tear filled eyes, “I just feel as if my life is passing by while I watch from the outside. I do nothing other than clean and get baguettes… I have no purpose.”

Comte felt as if he had been thrown in cold water at the sudden chill slivering down his spine when his lover continued by say, “I just feel that no one would notice if I was... gone.” 

The fear that flittered through his system forced him off his feet only to throw himself on his knees, at the feet of his lover, while wrapping viper like arms around their waist.

“Never... never think those thoughts again. Do you understand me? You have single handedly changed not only myself, but every other man in this mansion.” God, how stupid he felt. Centuries of living, and he still had no idea what to say at this very moment. Comte could feel the burning in his eyes as he almost choked with emotion. My how long has it been since he cried? 

He had always been one to seem emotionless, but that still didn’t mean he didn’t feel them.

“We were all broken before you came, all shells of what we once were... please my love, my life, my everything... don’t disappear from my arms, I don’t think I could take it,” Comte whispered, emotion thick in his voice, as he raised his head from his s/o’s lap to stare into their wavering eyes. A tear slipping down his cheek. 

Napoleon 

It was the middle of the night when Napoleon woke up to sniffling beside him. His eyes blurry and mind foggy, but Napoleon could still make out the slight trembling of his lover partially covered by the comforter he had taken the majority of. Unbenoced to himself Napoleon wrapped an arm around their waist and lightly kissed the back of their head and shoulder, causing the human to noticeably tense under his touch. 

That woke him up completely.

Lifting himself with one arm, Napoleon rested his elbow on the bed to take his weight and with his other arm he reached over and slowly rolled his lover onto their back to face the ceiling. Napoleon’s eyes harden when he saw the empty look in their eyes and the tears staining their cheeks. The sight felt so familiar to Napoleon, but from where he didn’t know.

“Nunuche…,” Napoleon whispered as he brushed a few tears off their paler than normal cheeks.

“...I had a dream that... I was gone and you were happy, happier than what you are now,” his s/o continued to stare at the ceiling, their expression showing nothing of what they were thinking. 

“Would you be happier, Napoleon? If I was gone from this world?” 

Napoleon thought his heart had stopped for a moment when he figured out what his s/o’s facial expression reminded him of. It was the same expression that was plastered on the faces of his soldiers who only a few hours later were pronounced dead after taking their own lives. Becoming overcome with panic, an emotion he had felt in a very long time, Napoleon wrapped around his s/o trying to touch them as much as possible to let them know he was there, with them. This time he would not be holding his tongue on what he really thought. He would be selfish.

“____ I could never again live without you in my life. Never. If you leave me I would not be able to go on. You are now my only reason for living... so please don’t leave me, or this world. So please Nunuche, live for me,” Napoleon rasped out grasping the clothing adoring his s/o’s body tightly between his fingers as if that would chain them to Napoleon, to this world.

“How selfish you have become Napoleon to ask me to live for you.”

Jean

“____? What are you doing?” 

Jean had been searching for his s/o for what felt like hours, only to find them curled up in the corner of his room bathing in the moonlight that shone through the single, small window.

The human didn’t move other than to breath in a shaky breath. 

“___?” 

Jean gracefully glided over to his lover, stopping just off to the side of them, and gently gripped their chin between his fingers only to gasp aloud when he saw the dark bags under their usually vibrant eyes and tear marks over their cheeks. Jean could see his own reflection in their teary, red eyes. 

“Jean... I don’t want to be alive anymore,” his s/o’s whispers shocked him immensely. They didn’t want to be alive anymore? He was confused at the declaration, angry at himself for not noticing the deep sadness in their eyes, and sad that the only person he had ever fallen in love with didn’t want to be by his side anymore, alive- with him. Jean knew he needed to do something, his body was screaming at him to move, react, and say something. The look he saw on their face was not new for Jean himself had it every time he thought about taking his own life. 

“______ I... I don’t know what to say.”

“That’s fine. You don’t have to say anything, I know I must be burdening you with my words,” his s/o moved their chin out from Jean’s hold only to go back to staring at the night sky through the window.

“Did I do something to hurt you, ____?”

“No,” they whispered, their voice cracking with raw emotion, “just leave please.”

Jean moved quickly, the quickest he thinks he had ever moved before to wrap his arms around his cold to the touch lover, pull them towards him, and shield them from the prying eyes of the night with his warm body. 

“Even if you leave this Earth I shall follow you to the very end if it meant I was gifted another second to be in your radiant presence. So what ever you shall decide to do, just know I will be there to hold you in my arms my love.”

Sebastian

The wind bit Sebastian as he threw open the doors that led to the roof of the mansion, serval stories above the hard ground below. It was dark, very dark, as dark as the emotions he felt swirling through himself at the moment, but even that didn’t stop Sebastian from seeing his fellow human, worker, and lover standing atop the roof, teetering on the edge as if they were playing with death.

“_____! Get down please! Please my love, let’s just talk about this!” Shouted Sebastian, the wind almost drowning out his terrified words as it shot up and through his clothes, sending his hair flying out of the normally perfect styling. 

“I can’t do this anymore Sebastian!” His lover shouted as they spun around quickly to stare at the butler standing before them causing Sebastian’s heart to drop even lower than it was already. There was so much fear in their eyes, so much suffocating sadness. 

Slowly creeping his way towards them, Sebastian shifted on his feet, holding a hand out, praying his lover would grasp his digit between theirs. 

“I understand what you're feeling ____. But this is no way to deal with it. Just come down, come to me, and we can talk.” 

It all happened so fast.

There was another strong gust of wind, seemingly to carrying it’s mocking laughter, causing Sebastian's s/o to lose balance, swing their arms wildly as they tried to regain it only to fail and start leaning backward towards their death. 

“____!” Screeched Sebastian once more as he sprinted towards his falling lover, arm still outstretched, and fingers grasping wildly at the unforgiving wind.

“SEBASTAIN!” 

The panicking man grabbed a hold of their lithe fingers just in enough time to pull them into his arms, falling back onto the roof behind them. Sebastian’s chest heaved frantically as he held his sobbing s/o tightly in his arms as if they would disappear from his sight suddenly if he didn’t. Their scent calm him immensely. They were there in his arms. They were alive. 

“I don’t want to die... I don’t want to die,” they repeated over and over again as they broke down completely in Sebastian’s arms. 

“I know my love, I know... You’re going to be okay. We’ll be okay.”

MASTERLIST

[authortango]

“Write a story that ends with a character asking a question.” - Prompt #42

Summary: A young boy named Atlas struggles with the meaning of life due to some strange dreams he’s been having.

Song Inspiration: The Sun by Jukebox the Ghost

Genre: Speculative fiction

Word Count: 1,751 words

One bright, ninety-degree summer morning, two brothers played basketball in an apartment division basketball court. Their names were Atlas and Apollo. Their similarities only stretched to appearances; their brown curls tangled together with the antics of boyhood, their dark skin becoming darker with the heat of the sun. On a day such as this, Apollo felt light as a feather, while Atlas felt that he had the world on his shoulders.

“Apollo,” he said, holding their ball captive for a minute as he tried to get his thoughts off his chest. 

“What do you think we’re here for?”

“We’re here to play basketball dummy! Duh!” Apollo rolled his eyes, a grin of amusement spreading across his freckled face. Atlas just shook his head and tossed the ball to Apollo.

“No, no. I mean, like, what do you think we were created for? Like why are we living here on earth? What’s our purpose?” 

Apollo took the basketball and dunked it into the hoop, giving himself a moment to think.

“Those are heavy questions man. I’m not sure I have an answer. I don’t really think about time on earth and stuff. I’m just trying to live.”

“Just trying to live…” Atlas repeated, becoming lost in thought as though he were making a note of Apollo’s answer. Apollo, uncomfortable with thinking so existentially, tried to change the course of the topic.

“Why are you thinking about all this anyway?” Atlas looked into his brother’s eyes, gauging how much he should tell. He loved Apollo, but you never know when a sibling is going to tease you for something you take seriously. At this moment, however, he decided to trust his brother. His thoughts were still too heavy anyway.

“I keep having this dream. I see waves, like, skyscrapers knee-deep in waves. And then like, I’m standing on one of the skyscrapers, and this window, or maybe a door, of light appears before me. I hear a voice, but I don’t understand it. The door starts to open… and then the dream ends.” Apollo whistled to release the breath he had been holding in.

“That is… quite the dream brother. And you think maybe this has to do with… the meaning of life?”

“The dream has happened for the past two weeks now. If it’s not about life, what is it about? Either way, I feel like something big is coming. And I feel like I need to figure some things out before it does.” Apollo gave the ball back to Atlas and clapped him on the shoulder. 

“I think it’s gonna be okay man, whatever it is. You’ll figure it out.” Atlas started to dribble the ball again, feeling a little better already. He started to smile and do tricks with the basketball, his previous worries falling away. 

“Thanks for listening man. I appreciate it.”

“Yeah yeah. Who knows? Maybe your dream won’t happen again now that you’ve talked about it. That’s a thing, right?”

“Yeah, maybe.” Apollo replied, putting the dream in the backburner of his mind. He wanted to try and enjoy the day before he continued to worry about the night.

[Line Breaker]

Atlas, unfortunately, did have the dream again, despite Apollo’s prediction. He tossed and turned in his sleep as Apollo slept peacefully in the bed next to him. Atlas’ vision filled with waves, his sight in the dream feeling like a camera panning into landscape view. He saw the water come up halfway to some of the skyscrapers in view, just like he had described to Apollo. His vision zoomed in onto one skyscraper, following the windows up to the top until he realized he was once again standing on it. 

For the first time in his dream, Atlas realized that he felt more freedom of movement now than he had in previous dreams. On instinct, he looked down into the city below, into the waves, and saw that smaller buildings had been swallowed by the new sea before him. There were no cars, or other people though, like one might expect. Instead, the only life Atlas could see were these strange fish. They were bright, vibrant colors, and had weird appendages like antennae along with long, elegant fins, like that of a coy fish. It seemed like they came from a different world entirely.

Atlas then heard a noise, like the dinging of an elevator door as it arrives on a floor, and turned his attention upwards. There was an outline of light not two feet from Atlas’ face, and he stepped back from the side of the skyscraper to give the door some room. His breath caught in his chest, preparing to wake up as soon as the door opened, and for once hoping that he could just sleep a little longer to find out the answers to his questions about his peculiar dream. 

Atlas watched wide-eyed as the door of light opened up, and to his delight he didn’t wake up. Perhaps he would find the answers to his dream after all! His body clenched in anticipation as the door slowly opened. He felt a light breeze blow through his hair and rustle his clothes, and he had to squint as the light became brighter. The doorway became so bright, he had to shield his face with his hand, but he could still see through his fingers a staircase descending from the mouth of the open door.

Suddenly, the light vanished, and as Atlas blinked back into focus, he saw a tall, obsidian colored being, who’s body seemed to twinkle with swirls of stardust. Their eyes were the same type of light that had just blinded Atlas for a moment, and as Atlas peeked behind the being he saw that the doorway had now turned into a window to the universe, the stars and galaxies swirling in the same way as the mixture of the being’s skin. Atlas, now fixated on the new figure before him, asked shakily,

“Who are you?” The being regarded Atlas with something close to warmth. They had all the features of a human man, but it was difficult to distinguish their emotions through features alone.

“I am called Onyx.” They said simply, sweeping their arms in a gesture of presentation. Atlas, still sensing a general kindness about this being, became less cautious, and more curious. 

“Are you an angel? Are you sending me these dreams for a reason?” Onyx laughed, their teeth pearly white and the sound of their voice making the entire skyscraper rumble. The waves sloshed below them as if pleased by the turn of events, trying to get closer to this ethereal being.

“I would not call myself an angel, but if it helps you to describe me, it would suit me fine all the same.” They replied, their tone a low, comforting rumble. 

“I understand that these dreams have caused you to have some weighty thoughts about your place in the universe. I cannot give you all the answers right now, but I can do my best to help you understand.” Onyx kneeled on one knee and beckoned for Atlas.

“Please, come closer.” Atlas approached gravely, humbled and awed by this great being. As he stepped nearer to Onyx, he felt increasingly warm, as if the sun had come out from behind a cloud. He felt in his heart that, somehow, this being was the universe, and it cared about him very, very much.

“I have a gift for you, young Atlas, so that you may one day find some of the answers you are looking for. Please, hold out your hands.” Atlas did as he was told, and Onyx placed two things in Atlas’ hands; a small sphere, covered in engravings that he didn’t understand, and a small pocket telescope, with the names of planets and constellations Atlas had never heard of engraved into the covering. Atlas held the things to his chest protectively, and looked back up and the being with curiosity in his eyes and a thousand questions on his lips. Onyx simply shook their head, but their expression remained jovial and caring.

“I hope to see you again in the future, Atlas. Change is coming. I have faith you will adapt well.”

And as Onyx tussled Atlas’ already messy hair, and the breeze picked up and the waves crashed below…

Atlas woke up. The sun shone on his face with warm rosy fingers. His mother must have opened the curtains to wake him and Apollo up. The window was also open, the wind playfully breezing through the curtains and caressing his warm face. His hair was stuck to his forehead, and as he reached up to push it away, something fell from his hand with a thump into his lap. Looking down, he saw the sphere that the being, Onyx had given him. And still clutched in his left hand, pressed into his chest, was the telescope. Both items looked a little more tarnished then they had in his dream, but he was too awed to care. He was surprised to see that they were even real, his heart racing as he remembered his dream and its implications.

Footsteps called loudly from the stairs as Apollo bounded up them, two by two. He caught himself on the doorframe to their bedroom and hollered,

“Atlas! Breakfast is ready! Mom told me to come get you.” He beamed at Atlas, before noticing that his brother was fixated on some weird bronze cylinder in his hand, and a sphere in the other. His attention swiveled back in forth between the two objects, as if he had never seen them before.

“What are those?” Apollo asked, walking towards Atlas and sitting on his bed. Atlas looked up at him, a far off expression on his face.

“This… this… angel gave them to me. They said maybe it would help answer my questions.”

“Well that’s… neat. And frankly strange. If they’re dream things, how are they here?”

“I don’t know.” Atlas whispered, staring again at the objects now in his possession. Apollo stared too, for a moment, before asking absent-mindedly,

“So do you have a guess as to what we’re created for? You were talking about it yesterday, in relation to your dream.”

Atlas, lost in thought by his brother’s question, opened the telescope fully, and ran his fingers across the faded engravings of constellations from another world.

“What if…” he said softly, almost to himself. 

“What if we were created to gaze at the stars up above?”

[upthewitchypunx]

A Dabbler’s week of DIY Witchery

All us witches are steamed about the nonsense article where the person tried to become a witch in a week and concluded that we were anti-vax science deniers. We can all be annoyed at the article, but @asksecularwitch​ had a better idea to suggest what we would have someone do to explore witchcraft for a week or to dabble in witchcraft. There’s no shame in dabbling! How are you ever going to know if you like something if you don’t dabble?

So, here’s mine. I preface it with saying that I am an agnostic secular witch and I call my practice DIY Witchery. So, here’s how to explore that if it’s a think you might like doing.

Day 1: Clean your fucking room!

I’m not going to say what day of the week you should start. My weekend is Wednesday/Thursday so start whenever you want. You know what, you don’t even have to do this one day after another day if something comes up, just the idea that you intend to do all of it is a good start.

What you need: Tea light, safety pin, a match or lighter, a notebook, a pen, and a lot of work.

The first day of any project is almost always the most exciting one and the one that you are more inclined to put effort into. So, we are going to go big!

Clean your room! I mean it. Wash and put away your clothes, change your sheets, sweep or vacuum your floor, wash your windows, dust, change that burnt out lightbulb, take all the dishes out of your room,  take your trash out and I mean the trash literally and figuratively. While you are cleaning your room think about what you want to gain from a week of exploring witchcraft. What are your interests in witchcraft? Do you want to do spells? Do you want to feel more safe? Are you interested in self-care? Do you like plants/cooking/animals and think there is something more you can do with these interests in an esoteric or occult way? Do you just want to see what all this new age woo fuss is about? All of these are valid reasons so keep them in mind when we go on to the next step and also keep your mind open because all of these things could change and that’s okay too. Then, take a bath or shower and get all that cleaning grime off you. There’s a reason “shower thoughts” hit us the way they do. Our body is relaxed and processing things differently so keep thinking about those thoughts you’ve had all day and what you are going to do with them.

Do you have an altar? I’ll bet you do! It doesn’t have to be all candles, cauldrons, and goblets and shit. It could be a flat surface where you have trinket boxes you received as gifts or an area where you have photos of friends and loved ones, or maybe a desk with your computer which is like a link to the world. We all create these spaces because they are pleasing and they remind us of who we are. Sometimes these get cluttered with empty ice cream tubs, keys, receipts, random paper but that’s why you cleaned your room so you can keep this space clear for the week. For this week, we’ll call this space “your space”

It may have been a long day and you are probably tired but you are almost done. Look around your room and admire your work. Seriously, a deep clean is so much work but so fulfilling when it is done. Get yourself a snack (or order some food if your budget allows) and get something to drink and find a cozy place to sit with your notebook.

Okay, get your snack and your drink and get that tealight candle and with a safety pin or a knife or something and carve something into the candle like “witchcraft” or “witch week” or “let’s dabble”, basically something that states that this is something you want work on. Place that in your space and light it while you write in your notebook. Think about all that stuff you were thinking about while you were cleaning. What interests you in witchcraft? If there are any aspects of witchcraft that interest you, write that down. State that you are starting this DIY project in earnest and are actually interested in taking it on. Part of taking up this project is too look at the world in a new way. The world is full of tools that might be useful if you learned to look at them in a different way. This week if you feel the urge to pick up weird objects off the ground to be used later or things that catch you eye like an acorn cap, bottle cap, or a literal fork you find it the road, or even if you see an object you can afford to buy that you think might be useful, do it. These collected things will be used for a divination project at the end of the week. Collect them and place them in your space throughout the week and document where you find them. Keep in mind your commitment to this DIY project all week when you are making choices. Remember if you decide to change your goals that’s cool.

Day 2 - Energy, Grounding & Centering

Yesterday was a lot of work so today we are going to do a quick exercise called Gounding and Centering. A simple exercise that a lot of witchcraft books I started on always mentioned that seems to be out of fashion or just skipped these days. I find it is a good trick to keep in my pocket for when I’m am upset of scared or anxious and not just for casting spells or whatever.

The general idea is to feel energy moving or to at least visualize it or maybe understand it in a strange intellectual way. It’s good to keep you in the moment, for me at least. First, let’s talk about the body and energy and how weird it is that we are alive and how our body has all these electrical impulses shooting through our nerves and telling my fingers to type this right now, ya? Being alive is pretty neat. What does a process that happens without thought feel like? Put your hands/palms together less than an inch apart without touching and think about the feeling. is it warm? Is it prickly? Does it feel like magnets repelling each other? Move your hands back and forth with the same short distance between them. Do you feel anything? It’s okay if you don’t, just try it.  Write down your thoughts in your notebook.

This is what is called a visualization and sometimes people aren’t really into it or are unable to do it and that’s okay but at least give it a try  The traditional grounding and centering is to sit comfortably on the floor, in a chair, or on your bed in your beautifully clean room. Sit comfortably, relax your shoulders, unclench your jaw,  and notice your breathing, count to whatever numbers in and out that makes sense to you,  I like 3s but maybe 5s or 7s are more you jam? 

Traditionally your are supposed to visualize yourself as a tree with a tap root from the base of your spine going deep into the earth and drawing energy up and into your body as you focus on your breathing. This would be a way to draw energy for spell work but we aren’t going to do that so just send that energy right back where it came from. I actually like to physically touch my hands to the ground to shed excess energy. Maybe that visualization doesn’t work for you. It’s not really my thing. I imagine a specific location that is a watershed and all the water that falls for many square miles heads to the river, trickles through rocks to a specific place. I gather that and hold what I need and let what I don’t need pass though like the spillway of a damn. It’s more of a receptacle kind of thing for me. Maybe you like the idea of fire filling a room with warmth or the air down a canyon or some sort of science thing like water cycles, heat transference, or osmosis. Write down your thoughts about this experiement, try it a few times in one way and maybe a few times throughout this week.

Day 3- Perception and Animism

What you need: a bus pass and the ability to go outside, and your notebook

Part of this whole witch exercise is look at the world differently so go outside, talk to a tree, watch patterns in nature including humans doing human things like riding the bus or grocery shopping. Don’t wear headphones. Interact with strangers that approach you. Pretend they are NPCs in a video game. Take your notebook with you. Write down any thoughts that come to you about the things you see or feel. Write something on a piece of paper you want to get rid of like a bad date, a habit you would like to quit, an intrusive thought, and throw it away in the garbage in a public place and don’t look back. That’s a small kind of spell.  If you see some change on the ground pick it up. If you see anything of interest fallen on the ground and you feel comfortable picking it up take in home and put it in your space for later, do it. Maybe go to a thrift store and see if anything catches your eye. Does your space need a tealight candle holder? I like to say I go to thrift stores to see if anything ones to come home with me.

Animism is the idea that everything (plants, animals, houses, cars, pencils, etc) has a soul, maybe you don’t believe in souls, I’m a bit iffy on the topic myself. But I do believe things and places have unique essences that make them what they are. I like to call myself a “soft-animist”. Things are created with purpose like a spoon. How do you interact with the spoon doing a spoon thing? Why does a certain smell lift your spirit? Why do you even have a favorite color? This day what about interacting with the essences of things. Things move us without our thinking about it, how do you move things? How do you interact with the world? Write about it in your notebook.

Day 4 - Correspondences and Critical Thinking

What you need: the internet, critical thinking skills, and your notebook

This one might take some time and I kind of apologize but you do have a clean room and the internet so you don’t have to go find some shitty new age book in the bookstore. A lot of witchcraft and spellcraft is based on the use of correspondences for spell ingredients. You will see a lot of these lists that are like “rose quarts is for love” and “rosemary is for everything” or “the color blue is for tranquility and green is for prosperity but also fertility” You will just see lists of these things with no explanation and you are just supposed to memorize them I guess? If you get really detailed some will mention what astrological sign or planet they are associated with even the classical elements of Earth, Air, Fire, and Water. These elements show up in modern witchcraft a lot, they aren’t really my thing, but worth exploring even as a metaphor if you have the time. You’ll also see correspondences for days of the week and hours of the day or season of the year. These ingredients get put in jars, or sachets, or burned in spells. A Correspondence list is just stuff that is associated with a desired outcome of a of spell.

Some of these are based in astrological concepts or the movement of planets as observed through western mystery traditions. Some concepts of correspondences are filtered  through folk magic and the idea that like attracts like, this is called Sympathetic magic. It’s like what you did if you wrote a bad date on paper and tossed it in the trash the other day. See, you did a spell! There is also the Doctrine of Signatures stating that plants that look like things like a plant that looks like a heart is good for your heart or a plant that grows aggressively is good for making a spell to make something move faster.

This is why there are endless lists of correspondences. You can go look up some endless lists of correspondences to see what I mean. Does this sort of historical context mean anything to you? Does timing mean anything to you? What if you made your own correspondences? What would that look like? What if you hate the color orange because it was your ex-husband’s favorite color? Then chuck it out of the rainbow mix! Plants and other things are often gendered, why? 

Pick 3 herbs in your spice cabinet or a plant you found outside and look up the magical correspondence for it. Does it make sense to you? If not, what do you think would better represent a desired outcome? What colors, plants, flowers, sounds make you happy or sad, write that down.

Day 5 - Sigils

What you need: Pen and paper

I love sigils but the idea of what they are and how they work has been changing lately. I’m kind of old school with sigils. The idea is that you have a statement of something you want to achieve, but you write it in the present. Maybe you have decided you want to be a witch so you write “I AM A WITCH” now, drop the vowels, “M W T C H” now take those letters and turn them into a symbol, overlap the letters, make it look pleasing to you. There! You have a sigil. I like to keep these around for a few days until you forget what it was supposed to be. The idea is that you take in the idea of the symbol and it becomes part of you, then you burn it and the sigil is gone but still resides in you. There’s are lots of ways for sigils to operate these day it seems, some are charged through self pleasuring before being destroyed, some act like a sticker that you place on something and it stays there and is not destroyed, I just like to hang out with them subtly reminding myself of whatever the reason I crafted it. I highly suggest reading this article on Run Soup about sigils and images in general and how they affect humans.

Day 6 - Knot Spell

What you need: a length of swing or rope

This is a fairly simple folk charm. There’s a lot you can do with fiber art and magic but we’ll start here. Get a length of string, or dental floss or an old shoelace, whatever can be tied 9 times. If you wanna feel witchy, light the candle in your space in your clean room.  Think of something you would like to manifest like waking up on time to get to work early or remembering to water your houseplants, do that grounding and centering thing from day 2, then tie the length of thread in order as outlined in this image while saying each line of the spell. Now you would let go of that energy and eat some food. Leave the knotted string in your space. Write down your thoughts on the experience.

Day 7 - Divination

What you need: A book, some way to listen to music digital and all the stuff you picked up off the ground

When people think of divination they think of tarot cards or reading tea leaves but there’s lots of different kinds of divination and there’s no reason to fork over money for a tarot deck when it just might not be your thing. I don’t know how it works or why it works but I’m more inclined to say that our brain is paying attention to everything and we fixate on symbols and archetypes because they remind of what our unconscious has been sorting out while we’ve been sleeping. 

I’m going to suggest three forms of divination: Biliomancy, Shufflemancy, and Cleromancy. Pick one or pick all three if you feel like it. If you guessed bibliomancy was about books, you would be correct! Originally it was to use the bible but any big book will do, especially if the books means something to you. I have this lovely edition of Lord of the Rings that’s fantastic for this. Close your eyes, you can do the grounding and centering thing if you would like, think of a question, open the book to a random page, point your finger and read the line. Did you get some sort of answer?

Shufflemancy would be putting your music on shuffle and asking a questions for and for the next track to give you some insight. 

Cleromancy is divination through small objects. It often has to do with tossing the objects and observing where they land in relation to each other but we are just going to simplify it. Remember all that stuff you picked up off the street? You didn’t do it? That’s okay. Get a small bag or maybe a stock or something and gather some small object, the ones you found or some other objects that will fit in the bag. Ask a question, toss the bag around a bit and let one object fall out. What does that object mean to you? Was it something you found? Where did you find it and under what circumstances? Was it a gift from a friend or something that has special meaning? Write it down in your notebook.

And thus concludes your week of dabbling in DIY Witchery. Maybe you hated it, but at least you have a clean room.

[nightingiall]

things i love about you: our rituals

a post-little do you know drabble series // story page

happy december! today marks six (!!!!!!) years since i started the december drabbles, which means it’s moniall’s anniversary! to commemorate the occasion, here’s a special lil something. also, if you want to relive my bad 2014 writing the drabbles that started it all, i will finally be posting them on wattpad. enjoy!

There used to be a time Mona hated the cold.

She couldn’t handle it. It made her feel like all her blood vessels had simply seized, wound up so tightly that she needed to find every single bit of warmth to bury herself under in order to feel like she could function again.

As she watched the tiny flurries of white drift from the sky to delicately blanket the ground in a layer of snow, she smiled to herself, remembering the first time they were here at their little cabin. It was the beginning of so much, of friendship, of love, of rituals they could seek solace in year after year. Four bedrooms, a generously sized dining room, and a roaring fireplace had somehow transformed from a simple husk of wood to a safe place, a home away from home, filled with laughter and jokes no one else would understand.

The snow picked up slightly, very quickly covering the driveway in white, and she realized that she no longer minded the cold. Not when she had this, a winter cabin filled with all the people she loved. There were even several new additions to the family, one of whom now pawed happily at her feet. She scooped the little fluffball into her arms, cradling it like a small child. “Hi, baby,” she cooed, holding the puppy up to see out the window. “Have you ever seen snow before?”

They certainly hadn’t gotten any in the city. And this sweet little pup was only a baby. Mona figured snow must be a new concept to her. She wondered if she’d like to trot around in the white slush tomorrow morning.

Niall had gotten the puppy as a surprise.

They’d arrived back from San Francisco for only a week before it happened. He had it all planned out. It was a Sunday afternoon. They’d devoured their dinner, a bottle of wine popped open, and the radio was turned to a blues station. Mona was washing up their plates in the sink when Niall had slinked up behind her, hands curled easily around her hips as he pressed his warm lips to her shoulder. “I got something for us,” he’d murmured into her hair, his voice that raspy sort of sweetness he took up when he was up to something.

She hummed, his voice a delicious vibrato down her spine. “What?”

When she’d placed the last plate in the dish rack and dried her hands on a towel, he spun her around, hands still a warm weight on her skin. The sun had already started to slink down the horizon, catching on adjacent buildings and throwing warm golden light into their apartment through the kitchen window. Niall’s eyes glimmered with it, bright blue meshing with rich gold sunlight. He was grinning widely at her in that irresistible way of his, and she let herself get whisked along with his excitement. “You’re gonna love it.”

“Okay,” she laughed, because he’d started to tug her towards the front entrance, just as the doorbell chimed. “But what is it.”

He instructed her to open the door and she eyed him suspiciously. “I promise you’re going to adore it!”

With an exasperated sigh, she did as she was told, fingers trembling slightly in anticipation. Waiting outside the door in a chestnut brown wicker basket lined with a soft white fleece blanket was the tiny little pup. Its fur matched the basket, a curly, chocolaty brown, and it was adorably nestled into itself as it slumbered peacefully.

Mona couldn’t help the way she had gasped, hands over her mouth in pure shock. “Is it ours?”

Niall was already smiling when she looked at him. “Yep. All ours.”

The excitement rushed through her like a tsunami, like champagne bubbles gushing when the bottle is opened. She almost wanted to scream but settled for a squeal instead, hopping slightly on her toes before just jumping into Niall’s arms. He laughed as she thanked him profusely, holding her close. She’d been planting the idea of getting a puppy for ages and she honestly didn’t even think he’d been considering it.

As they brought the little ball of cuteness inside, he explained that Duncan’s neighbor’s labradoodle had given birth. They’d taken them all to the vet to get checked and had been looking to give some of them away. This one was female. Like magic, “A Sunday Kind of Love” played softly on the radio, and they decided to name their newest addition to the family Etta.

“What’re you doing?” Niall was asking her now, where she was still standing in front of the window, watching the snow cover the earth.

She shrugged, still cradling the pup. “Etta’s never seen snow.”

He laughed as he leaned against the kitchen doorframe, cheeks flushed with that gorgeous pink that came from gut-busting laughter and too much whiskey. Behind him, the living room was quiet. Everyone else had probably ambled up to bed. She didn’t particularly care. It meant she got this moment all to herself, watching Niall stand there, looking soft and warm in his gray sweats and ugly Christmas sweater. She let Etta run off as she took him in, the light behind him fanning out around his head like a halo, blue eyes watching her with the world of love.

She crossed her arms as she leaned back against the countertop on the far side of the kitchen. “Did you stand there on purpose?”

He was grinning wildly, hands shoved into his pockets. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Really?” She raised a brow. “So you don’t always stand under that very doorframe every year just to get a mistletoe kiss?”

He looked up, feigning shock at the unmistakable plant dangling from the wood. “Mistletoe? I didn’t even notice it there.”

A laugh bubbled out of her, and she couldn’t help herself. She was drawn to him as always, feet pulling her towards him until she was close enough to wrap her arms around his waist, close enough to graze the corner of his mouth with her lips. “You’re lucky you’re cute,” she murmured, blood rushing at the way his breath audibly caught in his throat, his hands pressing hard into her hips. “You’ll be scamming me into these mistletoe kisses until you’re old and wrinkly.”

A grunt sounded from deep in his throat when she pressed closer, still not meeting his lips. “If the implication is that you’ll be the one to kiss me under the mistletoe when I’m old and wrinkly then yes I damn will.”

When she finally let him catch her lips with his, it was like the world fell away. Big bursts of color flashed behind her closed eyelids as he kissed her, slow and searing, arms wrapping around her waist tightly until her feet were swept right off the ground when he straightened. She giggled into his mouth when he started walking towards the living room, her feet dangling helplessly until he finally put her down in front of the couch.

“Home Alone is on,” he said breathlessly, still stealing short kisses on any bits of skin he could find. “Wanna watch?”

She huffed on a laugh. “Are you sure we’ll just watch?”

At this, he laughed too, pulling away completely. “Dunno if I can make that promise, my darlin’,” he teased, sending her a wink before retrieving a basket that was hidden under the dining table. It was only now that Mona noticed he’d moved the coffee table, spreading a sheet in the space between the couch and TV.

“What’s all this?” she asked, taken by surprise.

Niall shrugged, placing the basket down on the sheet and sitting down, tugging on her hand to do the same. “Just…something.”

Inside the basket was a loaf of the homemade bread they’d made today—still a bit warm in its paper bag—cartons of butter and jellies, a thermos, and a platter of chocolate chip cookies. Apparently, he’d put it all together when no one was watching. Her heart surged with affection for all the thought he put into everything.

They lounged about, ripping pieces of bread and pairing it with butter or jelly, sipping on hot chocolate, which was what was in the thermos. They alternated between watching the movie and watching Etta and Fudge, Harlow’s cat, prod at each other. Etta just wanted to be a friend to Fudge, who was not having it, which was quite amusing.

By the time they finished the bread, they didn’t have much room for the cookies, so they split one as they curled into each other, lounging back against the couch, laughing along to the movie. “I love you,” she murmured to him eventually, pressing a kiss to his chin because she felt so full with emotion, so much that she felt like she might just burst. They were here, in the cabin, where it all began. So much was different. And everything was just right.

Which was why, in hindsight, she probably should have expected it. The circumstances were just right, everything falling into place perfectly. She should have expected it, but she didn’t.

Because when she placed a half-asleep Etta into her makeshift bed and turned around, Niall kneeling on one knee, hands outstretched, holding a ring box, was not a sight she saw coming. Her heart stopped for a moment, eyes widened in complete shock. He hadn’t even said anything yet and she already thought she might cry.

“Mona,” he started, clearly fighting back a slew of emotions himself, “Erm, I’ll be honest, I had a whole speech planned, but my brain has just gone completely blank.” They both laughed thickly. Mona stepped closer. “That happens sometimes anyway, when it comes to you. Sometimes you look at me and I forget my own name. In fact, the first time you smiled at me, I tripped on a branch. Remember?”

She nodded, unable to form words at the moment. She remembered. It was college orientation. She had hardly known that in a few months, she’d fall in love with this boy in a log cabin and her life would change forever.

Niall took a deep breath. “The point is, I am head over heels in love with you. Everything just makes sense with you, and I have never met anyone who is perfect for me in every single way.” An inadvertent sob left her lips, just as she noticed his voice wavering. “I want to spend forever with you, doing everything and nothing, though good days and bad days. I love you so fucking much. And it would be the greatest honor of my life to be your husband.” He smiled, eyes sparkling with unshed tears. “So, what d’you say…will you marry me?”

Mona sobbed through her laughter, kneeling on the ground in front of him, caressing his face in her hands and swiping away the tears that managed to slip through his lashline. “Yes. Yes, I would love nothing more. Yes yes yes.” Niall laughed and pulled her into his arms, holding her tight and slipping the ring onto her finger at the same time. “I love you,” she cried into the curve of his shoulder, completely overwhelmed and yet completely at peace. All she wanted was to spend her whole life with her wonderful, beautiful sunshine boy.

It wasn’t until they both calmed down a bit that she got a good look at the ring. And even through her fuzzy eyesight, blurred by her tears, she recognized that opal stone, surrounded by tiny diamonds, as the one her mother wore for years. She had always admired it when she was a kid, always thought it was a timeless piece of jewelry.

She glanced up at him. “Is this…”

“Yeah.” He trailed a finger over the stone, holding her fingers delicately in his.

She was starting to cry again. “Mom gave it to you?”

He brushed away some of her hair from her face, tucking it gently behind her ear. “Yeah. She said you like it, having something your dad picked out.”

Her eyes welled with tears as she hiccupped slightly in her surprise. Of course. Because along with being her mom’s, opal was also her dad’s birthstone. There was a piece of him inside of this ring and she now had the privilege of carrying it around forever. Niall thumbed away her tears and she looked at him, her heart fit to bursting as she wrapped her arms around him again, her movements so intense that he fell backwards against the sheet.

Their quiet laughter filled the room, and when she pulled back, his face was filled with such adoration, such reverence, that she found herself leaning forward to kiss him tenderly. His love spilled from his lips and into her soul. He filled her with sunshine and loved her unconditionally. Sweet, wonderful Niall. He was hers.

All hers.

~

Mona was flipping a pancake when Niall strolled into the kitchen, all soft smiles and sleepy eyes and messy bedroom hair. He huffed out a laugh at the sight of her, probably because of what she was wearing. His ugly Christmas sweater from the night before.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he mumbled, as he pressed a kiss to her shoulder, fingers trailing on the hem of the sweater, grazing her skin underneath. “How does this look better on you than it ever did on me?”

She giggled at his words. She felt as though she were on cloud nine, woke up with a smile and couldn’t seem to shake it. Every so often, she’d catch a glimpse of the ring on her left hand and grin wildly to herself, sometimes wondering if she’d simply dreamt the whole night up.

But, no, she hadn’t. Because Niall was sidled up to her, chest pressed against her back as he pressed slow and hot kisses all the way up the side of her neck and down her jawline. “Good mornin’, fiancée,” he murmured, smiling wide against her skin.

She flipped her last pancake onto the platter and turned the skillet off, turning towards him to wrap her arms across his shoulders. “Good morning, future husband,” she replied, melting right into him as he kissed her slow and deep, goosebumps rippling across her skin at the words. It all felt a bit surreal.

He hummed, pressing her against the fridge, skimming his tongue along her lower lip. “I love the sound of that.”

They kept the news from their friends for a whole day. There was something fun and whimsical about it, going about their day doing mundane things with everyone, like eating breakfast or bringing Etta out into the snow for the first time, catching knowing looks from each other because no one else knew what had happened the night before. It was nice to be able to soak it all in, to enjoy it for themselves for a while, without anyone knowing.

Finally, on Christmas morning, as everyone lounged about on the couch, opening presents, they spilled. Niall was the one to announce it, telling everyone that they had news to share and pretending to be somber and melancholy. Harlow, Zayn, Liam, and Harry all froze hilariously when they caught the sudden shift in the mood, all of them sitting down and eyeing Niall and Mona carefully.

Harry was the one to ask what was wrong, and he looked so concerned that Mona couldn’t help the way the laughter just bubbled out of her. She looked at Niall, who’d started to laugh too, before holding up her left hand, the opal gem catching the light and glittering.

“We’re getting married!” they said simultaneously, and everyone was stunned into a few moments of silence before erupting into a deafening round of cheers. Harlow started crying as she hugged Mona tightly, and even the boys started tearing up a bit.

Perhaps it had been a long time coming. But it didn’t matter.

They were here now, endlessly overjoyed, popping open a bottle of champagne to celebrate.

They were here now, and they had the rest of their lives to go.