#I feel like if we got rid of a few unnecessary features

[words-writ-in-starlight]

where's the essay op

Okay so bayonets.  I don't know why I ever pretend that I want to talk about anything but military history and battlefield medicine.  I checked all my sources in the waiting room of a doctor's office so you're just going to have to trust me because they are Gone.  I’m pretty sure this can all be found on a few Wiki dives, though.

First of all, to recap, let me clarify a common misconception.  The triangular bayonet was NOT outlawed in the 1949 Geneva Convention, nor any future revisions—as it was originally a musket weapon, it was fading out of use by World War II and the subsequent Convention.  However, you'll notice that I opted to use to word "violates" rather than "were banned by," which is a fine semantical hair to split and, I suppose, debatable.  Most bayonets were not explicitly banned in the GC, in that there is not an article in the GC saying you can't use them.  However there IS an article in the GC, adopted from the earlier 1899 Hague Regulations, stating that it is prohibited to "employ weapons...of a nature to cause superfluous injury or unnecessary suffering" (originally part of Article 23 of the HR, now Article 35 of the GC, expanded in 1977).  Personally, as someone who knows a lot about how a lot of weapons impact the human body, I think that is a more expansive statement than most people would expect, and should be treated accordingly.  Regrettably I do not work for the UN.

Point is, triangular blades specifically are known to cause wounds that are difficult to heal, highly prone to infection, and extremely likely to never fully recover, while also having a relatively low mortality rate.  This is because the axes of a triangular wound, which is shaped sort of like a Y, make it very hard to stitch closed, and very easy for any "twisting" of the blade to create a large hole with ragged edges that's functionally impossible to stitch closed.  As an added bonus, because of the way scar tissue forms, it's possible for one "line" of a triangular wound to pull open other parts of the puncture while the scar tissue forms and pulls on the skin.  Even by standards in the 1700s, triangular bayonet wounds were phenomenally likely to infect and consistently difficult to repair, and modern medicine has made only limited improvements on that situation.  As such, cases have been made that certain types of bayonet/triangular blades in general are therefore in violation of this article, despite not being explicitly banned.

(Side note: yes, the American military violates the GC on the regular.  The American police violate the GC.  I am excruciatingly aware.  The GC is interesting reading generally, but especially if you're an American and you ever feel like being appalled for a few hours.)

Anyway, with that covered again, let's actually talk about the development of triangular bayonets, which might've been out of use by the time of the GC but DEFINITELY violated that article in a big way for a good two centuries prior and are also a fascinating insight into the fact that humanity, as a whole, is really determined to do things in the dumbest way possible.

The first thing you have to understand about bayonets is that they were originally invented as a way to integrate pikes with guns, not knives or even swords.  When arquebuses and muskets were first invented, you were lucky to get a rate of fire around one round per minute, and you still had to protect your army while they were reloading their clunky black powder guns.  Therefore, most infantries between like...the invention of the gun and the late 1600s were comprised of soldiers equipped with muskets, and also soldiers equipped with pikes (a type of spear).  The idea of a bayonet was "what if we put a pike and a musket TOGETHER and then we could give everyone THAT and have way more guns in our army because we don't need pikemen anymore." Which makes sense when you think about it.

What makes less sense is that the initial effort at bayonets was something called a plug bayonet.  You'll never fucking guess what these geniuses (first record is Chinese infantry around-abouts 1600, popular use of plug bayonets recorded in Europe around the 1630s) figured out for their first try at a bayonet.  Here's a hint!  There's not a lot of places on a gun where you can "plug in" a sword. 

Obviously plug bayonets did not exactly catch on as a fantastic solution, because these guns were either a gun OR a short spear and neither was especially good at their jobs.  A bunch of battles hinged on this problem. Which brings us to the end of the 1600s, when English forces in Scotland got absolutely obliterated by a bunch of Highlanders in 1689 because the English were so busy trying to fix their bayonets that the Highlanders literally just charged them, fired one volley, and cut them down with swords and axes. The English took that one very personally (which, you know what, fair, it was a humiliating defeat, especially since the Highlanders had been using that tactic very successfully for a while) and started developing better bayonets.

This is where we get to socket bayonets, AKA what you would probably recognize as a bayonet from a period TV series or a museum.  Socket bayonets have a metal sleeve that gets attached around the barrel of a gun (in this case a musket), so that you can still theoretically use the damn gun while it's attached.  There were problems with the development of socket bayonets (notably, it took a while to figure out how to keep them from falling off the gun during battle), but overall they worked much better and armies started getting rid of pikemen. This was also when bayonets were shortened to a little over a foot, which isn't really important but made them much easier to maneuver.  Socket bayonets were the European order of the day by the early 1700s, and mostly came in three flavors: single edge (like a knife), double edge (like a sword), and spike (like a...spike).  There were pros and cons to all of these (single edge wasn't great for stabbing, spike was ONLY good for stabbing, and double edge was kind of okay at stabbing and kind of okay at slashing), but most importantly, both single and double edged bayonets were fragile.  The heads of polearms were shaped on patterns other than "sword on a stick" for a reason, and it's because "sword on a stick" is not very sturdy.

Triangular bayonets were the solution to this problem.  Triangular bayonets are basically a single piece of metal creased long-ways, with both edges sharpened and the top fluted to form a third edge at the crease.  This makes a much more resilient weapon than a flat blade, because a twisting motion doesn’t risk snapping the blade in the middle.  It also means that now you have three edges, and human nature is to figure “more knife better.”

And don’t get me wrong, as a weapon of war, the triangular bayonet was a great one.  It was introduced in the 1710s and then got used regularly to maim and terrify through the start of the 1900s.  In fact, the triangular bayonet worked so well that it only began to get phased out of use when the style of war itself started to change dramatically during the World Wars.  When warfare was focused on pitched battle (your old school “two armies enter, one army leaves” kind of warfare), the emphasis of a bayonet was on extending the reach of a gun.  A bayonet lets a soldier have a weapon for closer range combat, where a gun—especially a long gun like a musket—is not as effective.  So when you had two armies on the field and a bayonet was first and foremost a way to keep the enemy at least gun-length away, longer bayonets were better.  

But World War I was the advent of trench warfare, which was a terrible idea and also meant that a long weapon, like a gun with an extra foot and a half of sword on top, was much, MUCH harder to work with.  Either fighting took place in no man’s land, where you probably weren’t going to get close enough to use a bayonet anyway, or in a trench, where a weapon as long as you were tall was just impossible to work with.  

(If you know anything about WWI, you’re probably asking me about bayonet charges right now, specifically the concept of “going over the top.”  Contrary to every media representation of WWI ever, “going over the top” of a trench faded out of use pretty quickly.  It was a type of bayonet charge where the soldiers in ONE trench fixed their bayonets and tried to charge no man’s land in an effort to reach the OTHER trench, but it was basically never effective because no man’s land was often heavily trapped and strafed with gunfire and mortar shells.  Also, it was the kind of battle tactic that military history books talk about with phrases like “total annihilation of whole attacking battalions,” so that’s the kind of mortality rate we’re talking about here.  The Battle of the Somme featured a good number of bayonet charges by the British, for context, so people learned and started using other tactics.)

So, since bayonets were only useful in trenches, suddenly everyone was scrambling to shorten bayonets and guns so that their soldiers could get ANYTHING DONE.  And THEN soldiers started admitting that they were literally taking their bayonets off their guns and using them as knives instead, because for trench fighting that was way more useful, and so everyone just decided fuck it, let’s just make bayonet-knives, which is why WWI weapons with bayonets usually look, very literally, like someone duct taped a short knife to the front of a gun.  This was the start of the decline of the triangular bayonet, a full two hundred years after it hit the battlefield, which is a frankly spectacular run for any weapon since the invention of the gun.  Triangular bayonets held on, here and there, through part of WWII, but they were almost entirely gone by the time of the Geneva Convention being ratified in 1949.  However, spike or knife bayonets are still issued to many armies as a weapon of last resort to this day, although they aren’t often used in actual attacks.  Now we have bigger, worse weapons for actual attacks.

 TL;DR, the development of bayonets went like this:

“What if we put a pike ON a gun?  …oh wait, you still want to use the gun?  Sucks to be you, I guess.”

“What if we put a sword on the gun instead?  Then we could put it somewhere where we can still use the gun!  Good luck keeping it on there, though.”

“What if we actually made something designed to get put on a gun and stab people effectively?  Like, what if we designed something with that purpose in mind?  Perhaps?” SMASH CUT TWO CENTURIES

“Well if you’re just gonna take your bayonet off and stab someone with it anyway, can we just go back to giving you knives, then?”

And now you’re caught up on all the dubiously successful ways we’ve tried to mutilate people with a knife-gun.

[lilyrachelcassidy]

Summer Nights (2)

A/N: Is that... is that...? The unbridled enthusiasm I’m hearing? Or are you trying to reach me with torches and pitchforks for being so untrustworthy? Assuming the first option.

Anyway -- Yes, as I promised, this is the second part of the Summer Nights which you would hopefully enjoy. Waiting for your feedback. It’s the INDEX if you need a refresher.

ALSO, I give a lot of credit to @drawlfoy and @bored-and-botheredwho helped me with editing this chapter and steamed off my emotional breakdown related to my writing (lmao). I love you so much gals and a big THANK U once more!!!

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: coarse language; alcohol; Narcissa turning into a shitty-mother (lol)

Tags: @war-sword @paradigmax @winnsmills @idkatee@bforbroadway @okaydraco

The next thing Draco knew, he was being woken up with a massive hangover in the snuggly, way-too-comfortable bed by the high-pitched squeal of his mother.

"You, darling, made a lot of trouble for yourself yesterday," Narcissa admonished her son, a glacial cool look on her face. Entering Draco's hotel apartment, she walked over to the window and opened the drapes with one swift movement, splashing an annoyed Draco with light. He groaned, not yet daring to complain due to his mother's livid mood, to say the least.

"You have no idea of what happened yesterday, do you?"

"Yyy-" was the only sound he could make. God, where to the fuck was he? He hadn't been this plastered in forever.

"Of course you don't." Narcissa shook her head and laughed nervously, although she made it plainly obvious there was nothing humorous about the situation. "You blacked out so hard in that sleazy bar there is no way you can recall anything from yesterday. Look at you -- you are squinting at me like I'm the sun!"

Draco nervously ran his finders through his disheveled hair. He was definitely not in the right mind to provoke the conflict. "I left you the note at the reception," he informed her, trying to slickly get out of the unenviable conversation. "Told the receptionist to hand it over."

Contrary to his mother's accusatory ascertainment, he actually had some glimpses of the previous night (or should he say an all-night rave?). There were for sure drinks -- a lot of drinks; a variety of kinds he didn't recognize from the magical world but still guzzled delightfully. The second recollection was dancing --which wasn't his intention, but with some luck of his -- got invited by some hot-looking chicks from across the table. And yes, he definitely remembers the swaying and the rhythmical moving of the hips along with some cheesy muggle vibes mixed with the smell of booze and weed. Maybe he even hooked up with one of the girls? The last thing he recollects before passing out, almost like through a haze, was seeing Narcissa's furious face screaming something incoherent at him. Overall, that's his all night wrapped in one.

"Do you think the mere note 'I will be fine' was going to calm down my shattered nerves? Draco Lucius Malfoy, I swear to our dear ancestors, I did not raise you to act so irresponsibly." She waved the finger at him warningly. “We come from rich history. You are the descendant from a line of successful forefathers who put their effort into building up our reputation. Do you think Lucius would approve of such unrestrained behavior? I’ve been already hearing of letting you be too careless. Is tha-"

"Mother, could we skip the lecture?" Draco snapped angrily, try as he might to suppress it. "I've heard it too many times. All I’m trying to have is a peaceful life. Without the prying eyes of the media and the meddling of my family..."

"And all I’m trying to have is an integrated, happy family to offer you support and love.” Draco opened his mouth to cut her in, but she shushed him with a wave, clearly suggesting 'Don’t even get me started’ meaning. “I’ve been- been trying  to get a job, going through the infelicitous job interviews and looking for a solution to help our household through the post-war crisis. Have you shown any interest in that? Any?"

"But mo-"

"The last thing I want to have on my mind is dealing with your ignorant, boyish transitional stages, and let me tell you -- you do not make it any easier for me," she said without taking a breath. She exhaled slowly and continued, this time forcing a softer tone. "I ask you one thing for this summer. Let it be an enjoyable time without unnecessary conflicts. We have come to the beautiful country as France. Let's make a good thing out of it."

Draco, who was already wide awake by the buzz of adrenaline, looked at her with a serious expression. Scanning her face made him suddenly realize how hard must it have been for her to bear everything, and seeing the bags of tiredness under her beautiful, hazel eyes stopped him from retorting. "Mother, no matter what happens, I'll always support you. Remember that."

Narcissa smiled. “Oh. I know, honey, I know.” This time she lowered her voice by two octaves, slowly sitting at the edge of the bed. “It’s just… people have been gossiping behind our backs lately, partly throwing the blame at us. All I’m trying to do is protect us from those tormentors. But your binge drinking is not making the deadlock any better, and it drives me mad.” She chortled a little bit and patted Draco’s palm. “So, until the rumors die down, all we can do is raise our chins high.” Narcissa ended, her voice encouraging yet plaintive.

The last thing Draco liked is seeing his mother on the verge of emotional exhaustion, like in this moment. He felt an instant surge of sympathy, so he quickly found himself locking Narcissa in the supportive embrace. She responded to the gesture by wrapping her arms around her son’s neck and stroking his cheek delicately with the back of her hand, just like in the old times. Both of them yearningly wished to come back to those years of frivolity.

"I promise I'll try to be better," Draco said with certainty. Seeing Narcissa’s eyes light up in gratefulness and the smiley dimples form on her features, he assured himself it was the right thing to say at that mother-son moment.

“How could I be so lucky to have such a wise boy,” she muttered proudly, kissing Draco at the top of his head. “But perhaps you should not restrain yourself too much during the holiday. I give you the partial alibi per se. Just keep it under control.”

Smiling, Narcissa got up, straightening up her impeccable posture as in the habit of the high-status woman. For the first time in that day, Draco noticed how elegantly she was dressed up: the black, partly lacy dress stopping at the level of her knees; the shiny-white pearl jewelry perfectly matching her entire outfit; dark yet not defiant high-heels; andhair fixed up in the tight bun. In Draco’s opinion, she looked too prim...even for herself.

"Mother, are you heading somewhere?" he asked curiously.

“Well…” she started, blushing. “I’m going to see my old friend in the coffee shop. I haven’t been there for ages, so it’s one of the chances to meet up with them. Hopefully, you are going to take care of yourself for a few days.” 

"Days?" he asked, shocked.

“You didn’t expect me to travel from town to town, did you?” she laughed lightly. “Bordeaux is quite a route to overcome. So I might be settling there for a few nights. Do you mind it, darling?”

Was he positive about the information? Did he mind? Partly yes. He didn’t imagine the prospect of wandering around the alleys of France on his own, especially on the first day of being there. But from the other side, seeing the joy painted on his mother’s face as she told him about the planned get-together made him feel less skeptical. Plus, getting rid of the extreme supervision for a few days wouldn’t be such a disaster as well.

As he calculated now, the ratio about the idea was 90% pro and 10% against.

"Of course not," he said simply, smiling at his mother.

"I knew you would understand." The crease of uncertainty on her forehead disappeared, and she let out a sigh of relief. "Meanwhile... I have already booked you the brunch downstairs but seeing as you are not in the wholesome state, I might order a delive-"

"Don't..." Draco opposed, rising from the bed and throwing the nearest shirt he could find over his head. "I'll come down. Some fresh air may be a cure for a hangover. Oh, and speaking of hangovers -- do you happen to have an anti-hangover potion?"

Narcissa let out a quiet chuckle and clapped her hands, seemingly satisfied with herself. Her tranquil gaze landed on the cupboard. "As a matter of self-preservation, yes, I do. Try searching inside the bedside cabinet."

He thanked her and then they talked with each other a little bit longer until Narcissa took the pocket watch out of her handy purse, noted the time ("Merlin's Beard, I am so tardy! I'm going to be alone on the platform if I stay here a minute longer!), and –a little startled with her inadvertency – hurriedly declared she should get going ("I really should get going Draco!”). Pecking her son twice on the cheeks as a farewell, she rushed towards the door and, for the last time, turned around to blow a brief motherly goodbye kiss. She left in such a hurry that the only sign indicating her presence in the room a few seconds ago was her familiar perfume lingering about in the air.

Draco gathered his clothes, and after half an hour of very difficult preparations while dealing with the consequences of yesterday's actions -- because the potion finally hits after two to three hours -- he found himself in front of the hotel's restaurant. As he walked in, he had to admit the room enchanted him with its lovely atmosphere, which brought back the memories of his first Hogwart's magical feast as an eleven-year-old boy.

With the large windows allowing plenty of light in, the entire space was in the classical style. The whole floor was clad with marble tiles in the white-like color; the walls were purely white and, apparently, someone must have put a lot of effort not to let a single dust spot appear in there; the ceiling was created in the concept of the sky resemblance making an impression of the real clouds hovering over heads. Three enormous chandeliers made a very good fit with carved wooden tables and similarly-looking chairs.

"Sir, would you like to make an order?" The decently looking waitress walked over to his table, with a white apron around her waist and green, deep eyes staring at him. "I'm Laura, by the way. I'll be serving you today."

He nodded, not really paying much attention to her primitive attempts of having a chit-chat. Cursorily glancing at the menu, he decided on having a french bagel with melted cheese and a coffee which was a specialty of the house as was written in the recommendations. The waitress scribbled something sloppily in her notes, smiled briefly, and then strode away.

The restaurant was almost fully emptied, and the only things heard in the background were a heated discussion of the couple beside the table and a composition of french, old songs prepared specifically for the guests.

Draco let out a small sigh of boredom, thinking yet again about the scenery of today. The only ideas that crossed his mind were either lounging in his stuffy hotel room or finding another hang-out spot to drown his sorrows.

After the War, he had found out it was pretty easier not to give in to any of the memories, blurring them out with the support of Scotch as a coping mechanism. Pansy and Daphne, his childhood friends, had tried to talk him out of it, kindly offering some tenderness and a chance for a conversation. But he had eventually stopped caring about any of that bullshit anymore.

That's why perhaps he'd just--

"Hi!" said a cheerful voice behind him, making him jump slightly at his seat with surprise. At first, he thought it was a mistake; that he must have been deemed as someone else considering he didn't know anyone around, so was in the opposite way. Turning around, however, made him realize it wasn't entirely the truth. "Do you remember me?"

"Hello." Of course, he remembered her. It was the receptionist from the previous day, whose name he didn't bother to memorize. Although he planned on avoiding potential candidates for a talk today, he said truthfully, "Yes, I do. You work here, right?"

"Yeah," she confirmed, smiling. "Can I join?"

For a moment, his sluggish brain did not process what she was asking about, and that made him frown. The girl probably comprehended what it was about because she explained, reading his confused expression. "...the table".

"Oh," he said, feeling more than embarrassed for his dumb reaction. "Yeah, help yourself."

"Thanks," she mumbled, pulling out the chair to make some room for herself. "Tough night, huh?"

The inquiry made him suddenly realize she must have witnessed the whole scene yesterday -- him asking her for a favor, Narcissa drilling her out for any clues about his disappearance, his arrogant attitude, and scurrility as he spoke to her. For sure, if she were smart enough, she would deduce what the situation was about.

He couldn't help it, but a wave of shame pierced through his body, and his stomach rolled slightly.

"A little," he answered minimizing a dimension of the spree, almost like a lie, and then he shook his head. "Listen, sorry about yesterday. I might have been...rude."

A small smile of courtesy formed on her lips. "I presumed you were a little off. Happens..." she said tentatively, gripping both of her hands together. "Oh, and about yesterday -- you lost this at the lobby." She took his wand out, and Draco's stomach made a second roll, the heartbeat hastening like a speed of light. He quickly tried to bring his face to the natural expression, but the girl had noticed that, and curiosity filled her eyes. "I thought I should give that back. In case it was valuable or something."

Fucking great... How was he supposed to elucidate that?

His throat felt so dry he couldn't let out a word of excuse. The moment was so mortifying to him he just reached for the familiar wand and nodded politely in gratefulness.

"Mhm..." Draco hummed, barely audible and momentarily deflated. "It's just... Something I've been training with..."

What the fuck is that supposed to mean, dolt?!

"Oh," the girl unconsciously flipped her hair off the shoulders, probably trying to make sense of the information. Furrowing her brows, she put her hand under the chin. "Are you a magician?"

"Kind of..." he agreed, not happy about the reputation he had just created for himself, but at the same time satisfied he didn't have to make up more explanations.

Luckily for Draco, the uncomfortable pause was rescued by the arrival of the food -- thank Merlin -- and even though he hadn't been hungry at all, now he felt an unexpected appetite to eat up the awkwardness. The girl probably caught a hint it was about time to end an encounter because she grunted.

"Listen," the girl started, clearing her throat yet again. "I better get going. But..."

The next thing Draco knew was that she was reaching to her pocket again, this time taking out something similar to a quill, only without ink. He assumed it must some kind of muggle invention, only a mechanical-like version. The girl uncorked it and suggestively drew out her hand, clearly signifying he should bring his hand closer as well. He obediently did.

"France is a big city," she said, glancing at him and sounding serious. "If you ever needed someone to show you around, let me know."

Without any preamble, her soft, delicate fingers grasped his forearm (he made sure to give her the right one), and with a few scrawls on his skin, she looked at him merrily, blushing slightly, and then left a table.

He stared after her for a while, looking at her curls bouncing behind her back as she walked away at a slow, monotonic pace. After a few seconds, she disappeared out of his sight, letting him finally peek at the note she had left:

'Call me, Y/N,' and a nine-digit number attached.

XOXOXO

A/N: I know this part might have contained too little Draco x Reader momento, but I promise it’ll get better as a plot develops. Also -- is it only my impression, or is Narcissa as changeable as the weather in Germany lol.

[octania]

Obi Akitaru x Reader

This is a commission I did for the lovely @super-spooder​. I again thank you for your support in this way and permission to do it as a Obi x Reader fic.

Words: 7.1 k

Warnings: Smut, public sex, dirty talk

Short description: Obi and you are hiding your relationship for some time now, and although he is not happy with that, he respected your decision till the moment Captain Burns had the nerve to try not only to steal you as a doctor but as a potential partner.

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Life is sometimes like a puzzle, such a simple structure, but if you don’t put the pieces right, it can get agonizing, hard, sucking the joy from this thing that should bring entertainment and happiness. If you are missing only one piece, it can shatter all of your previous work that was done thoroughly and made you proud and satisfied. One important piece can shadow all the puzzles that fit into their places before it. That is how (Y/N) felt when Obi was not in her reach, when she had everything else lined up and in perfect order, but she was missing the most important thing, the piece she knew would make the whole picture of her life perfect. Him.

She exhaled slowly with her eyes closed, lifting her arms up and pushing her heel back. Relaxed. That is how she felt in this moment. But not because she was doing yoga in the private gym of company 8, surrounded by nothing but the soothing sound of the birds chirping, accompanied with a rustling of leaves  coming through the half opened window, no, it was because her feelings for Obi were finally out, heard, acknowledged and most importantly, reciprocated.Well, in some way heard. They were still keeping it on the low, putting a veil of disguise for the other members. Sometimes, that tiresome acting was overwhelming, biting the pounding life muscle in her chest with the sharp teeth of need for him, but the sight of his eyes clouded with mopes was even heavier. He tried, despite their agreement, to get closer to her and risk giving her attention in front of the others. He did respect her wishes but his eager hands slipped under her arms, along her back, on her hip, on her waist, just for a moment, a simple touch when he was standing near her. Maybe she was too harsh, stepping back and giving him a warning gaze over the shoulder that spelled Too much, Obi. They will notice.

She could swear that his glare carried this answer- Let them. I don’t care.

But she did, at least she convinced herself in that. So when they were finally protected by the four walls of privacy in her or his apartment, she dodged the subject, tiptoed around it like it would burn her like raging fire if she comes too close to it. Guess that were the remaining bits of her past habit, running away from him, now, she was only running away from the fact that she lost that race. He caught her, and will not let her go. Like she wanted to be set free from those huge arms… She despised the morning light when they had to go in their separate ways.  Well, she was again the one that insisted on it. She would never admit it out loud, because then she will have to face Obi’s overly opened nature and shameless desire to celebrate their love. She could never win in that argument, she was doomed to fail, he did not share her anxious concern, he simply aspired to freedom so he could kiss her when he wanted, not when he was able. She shook her head, trying to get rid of the heavy thoughts.

In some moments she felt like she was playing the same game but with different rules this time. First it was to escape the king haunting you on that board of emotional chess, and now when you conquered the king, the whole kingdom awaits your confession, and you will tremble under their harsh judgment when you speak your sins. She hid the fact that that spear of guilt for breaking the ethical rules still pierced her soul, no matter that she received the most precious reward for her confession. She was not scared for herself, she would gladly be dragged in the dirt of shame for her choices if she had to, but only if Obi was left out of it. Her need to protect him was growing like wisteria on the garden wall, her flowers of love blooming over it to hide him from every wrong. Same goes for the other members of their fiery company. She sheltered them from the disappointment, like an umbrella, stopping the icy drops of rain to touch the ones underneath it.

She inhaled, letting the oxygen settle in her lungs, doing her exercise and counting to ten, now desperately wanting to wipe out all of the worries that kept popping in her head. Her hard concentration made her unaware that she was not alone in the gym anymore, there was another soul lingering around, watching her closely, dealing with its own temptation in silence.

Obi could barely resist (Y/N) on the regular days when she was wearing her baggy tunic and her white doctor’s coat, but seeing her stretching her body so gracefully in those tight yoga pants, making her ass look like a perfectly shaped peach that would fit right in his hands like it was made for him, and her thin waist bending down, making a pose that was almost inviting, luring him in. He could feel a stiff bulge forming inside his sweatpants.  Dear Sol I just got here, and I am already on the edge..

No matter how much he tried, he could not stop staring, silently stalking his lover, leaned against the door. He tilted his head, scanning the vacant hallway.  

Like it matters if it is empty or not, she set the rules…nothing happens in the company. 

His eyebrows narrowed and a frowning expression took over his usually soft features when he remembered her ultimatums. Obi adored every word that came out of her mouth, but once she began with her unnecessary dramatic concern, that was the only time he felt a need to just pick her up all over again, hammer her to the wall and cover her with his huge body, forcing her to finally realize that nothing matters except how the two of them feel. 

And he feels very hungry for her right now…

The sight of her on that wall was luckily more than just a fruit of imagination, it was a memory. A heated and lewd one, stored in the intimate corners of his mind, only for his personal usage. Even his opened nature would not dare to speak how the film stripes of that sweet event were already worn out from how many times he thought it over. His tender cheeks bloomed with color red, just reminding him how that was maybe two weeks ago, and from that moment on, nothing similar happened. They just went out in secrecy, having dinner and movie nights, so to speak. He was respectful, patient, not even a bit pushy. After all, he wanted to get to know her on a personal level, not only ravage her body. The thing that happened was a result of accumulation of emotions, a moment where their hearts and souls were bare, pulling towards each other like magnets, begging to be united. The recollection of that night made a wave of desire to wash over him, making his body tense and him to unconsciously clear his throat. Mistake.

The growling noise coming from his chest made him to be discovered by two eyes turning in a hurry. His eyes widened like he was just caught doing something bad, looking nervously around the room to dodge her penetrating gaze.

 “Captain Akitaru? What are you doing here?”- the sound of that formal word coming about of her mouth sting him right in the heart. More and more he was irritated by the fact they can’t talk freely, act like the lovers that they are. He did not even realize he was biting his lip from frustration.

 “Captain?”- there it is again, it sounded even worse without his actual name next to it.

 “There is no one here (Y/N), you can speak normally.” – his deep voice traveled through her ear canal right to her core, giving her goosebumps. No matter that they dated, the tension when they were alone still remained, and seeing him in his grey sweatpants and his black shirt with no sleeves, exposing those rounded deltoids, big biceps and long thick forearms made her heart race. The shirt was so tight on his huge torso, it showed his hard abs, making (Y/N) blink a few times, getting flustered in a second. Her insides craved him, still remembering his shape from the last time. She felt a moist feeling inside her panties, realizing how quickly her body reacted, squeezing her tights harder like she wants to cover her state.

“Still…we have to be careful. I don’t want to talk about it right now and here but I think they are starting to look at us funny, and I really don’t want to risk their disappointment.”- she voiced her concerns again like a broken  record, picking up her towel and a bottle of water, passing by the workout machines in a rush, straight to her office. She felt lucky she had a private bathroom in there, and was blessed even with a shower inside. Perks of working overtime, you get to be exhausted but clean. She giggled on her thought, getting a bit hopeful she will escape this situation with no damage. When she needed to bypass Obi, she arched her back, quickly sliding next to his big frame, using the benefit of being a small thing. But he was too big, so her breasts got caught by his forearm, as she brushed over it with them. It was just for a moment, but she could feel her already erected nipples from her arousal earlier, sending electric signals through her tummy, down her lower parts. She moaned, louder than she expected, continuing her escape with shaky hands. Now the fact written on the label that she once read before buying this sport bra, “So soft and airy it feels like you are not even wearing it.” made this a living hell. She didn’t turn to see if  Obi noticed something, she already disappeared into her office, rushing to the bathroom and slamming the door behind her, turning the shower on so the sound of rustling water clear her thoughts.  His bulge was now aching, painfully pulsating under the material of his sweatpants. He felt them, being reminded once more how those nipples tasted when he sucked them. Now, after two weeks of being without that sweet candy, and how she tried to escape, made him swear he will not let her drown in her own denial again. He thought this through in a hear beat. He could deal with her rules and wishes but he will be damned if he lets her to run away from him again.

The arousal mixed with painful yearning in his chest made him step forward, and before he knew it, his wide palm was wrapping itself on the doorknob of her bathroom, pushing it almost violently open, slipping into the mist of steam rising from the shower cabin. He saw her standing there, jumping from surprise, squeezing her naked breasts with her hands to cover them, still in her yoga pants. But before she could speak, he slammed the door behind them, locking them, and turning around to face her. His veiny forearms tensed as he grabbed her waist, picking her up with ease, crashing his plush lips on hers, swallowing her muffled questions. After losing the floor beneath her feet, she automatically tired to grab onto something from pure instinct. Her waving hand managed to hit the shower head, making it to fall down, splashing the water around, raining down on them from the water pumping in the air. Obi did not even flinch when the warm water hit his skin, he was too busy sucking on (Y/N)’s lower lip, nibbling the rosy flesh like his favorite chocolate bar, then pushing his tongue inside her mouth to met hers, tasting the whole package. Her tongue returned the sugary motions almost voraciously, giving into her primal needs once again. Not so primal, but awoken by him, something about Obi unleashed desire in a form she did not experience before. He could feel her body giving in, melting under his grip and screaming to be dominated by his powerful being. His husky voice filled her ears, as he explained in one sentence why he is breaking her rules. 

“We said, no more running.” – but the explanation was not enough, a punishment was in order. He will not risk her getting away again, his heart could not bear it, so if she tries, he wants her to remember just what might happened. His eyes colored like dark mead flickered, stepping inside the half flooded floor of the cabin, shutting the glass door to prevent any more water spilling out. Now the shower released its waves only on them, soaking them to the core. But Obi did not mind it, not wasting any time, shucking down her yoga pants from her legs in one harsh motion. When the barrier of her closed was removed, his prominent biceps tensed as he lifted her up along the tiles, until she was high enough so her cunt was right in front of his face. He pushed her legs on his shoulders, preventing her from closing them, and dragged her closer to his mouth. He stared at her bare pussy that was glistering from her own juices. Obi subconsciously licked his lips from the tasty sight ahead, sliding her closer until her soft folds were finally pressed on his lips. He opened his mouth, taking a long, experimental lick along her slit, almost grunting from the familiar taste in his mouth. His tongue repeated the act, showing the satisfaction like he is licking his favorite ice cream.

 “Also..we need to teach you how to use my name, without that formal bullshit.”- he slid his calloused hand under and to her heated hole, large fingers parted the folds, pulling the hood of your clit taut to reveal the nerve bud underneath. 

“O-obi!”- Hana stuttered from the exposing feeling of her sensitive parts, sensing the steamy air flowing around it, combined with Obi’s hot breaths. 

“That’s it…say it again.”- with the tip of his tongue he mercilessly flipped the nerve bundle, making (Y/N) to scream his name from the depths of her lungs. But he will not be satisfied after only hearing it once, so he continued to flick her clit while he shoved three fingers inside her, pumping them in until the last knuckle was sucked by her inner walls. She grabbed his wet hair, pulling his head closer.

“Obi!”- she screamed, her voice echoing the glass shower cabin, barely keeping the sound in. But she could not care less, she felt dizzy, tingling feeling spreading across her face as she barely kept her eyes half open. Pleasure consumed her, making her eyelids heavy. So distracted, she did not even notice that Obi lowered her down, placing her on her knees. She opened her eyes from the unsatisfying feeling of emptiness between her legs, gazing upon something big…and hard. Obi slowly pumped his shaft in front of her. Blushing, he stared down at (Y/N)’s glassy eyes, leaning with one hand on the tiles. His broad torso hovering above her, mighty and powerful. He gently wrenched (Y/N)’s head, meeting her plush lips with his purplish head. She could already taste a thick drip of precum sliding down her lower lip to her mouth. It was bitter, but the sight of his shy face and him slowly jerking it in front of her, pushing it gently inside her small mouth made her crave it all. The size, the taste, the cum…

 She parted her lips, in that way showing her permission. Obi’s girth filled (Y/N)’s mouth, stuffing her throat with his size in seconds. She relaxed her muscles, trying to fit it in but she could barely breathe around his heavy meat. Obi slowly pulled out a bit, giving her a chance to inhale, then started rocking his hips gently, lost in the sight of fucking her mouth. (Y/N) grabbed his legs, trying to keep her balance while he was stuffing his dick down her throat, gripping her hair gently. His brown eyes locked on hers, when he whispered something in a low, shy voice.

“Touch yourself from me.” – her already red cheeks fired up, she swallowed, well tried, just putting more pressure around his length, making him growl in euphoria. She never done this before, but the enchanting hunger in his eyes was tempting her, provoking her, igniting the flame of her erotic being and forcing her to indulge in this dirty play. She sensually started to glide with her hand around her curves, teasing her own breasts while swallowing a few more inches of Obi’s throbbing cock. His half closed eyes watching her like tiger watches its prey. Calmly, trying to suppress the clawing need to ravage her, just collecting all that building ecstasy inside, waiting for the right moment to set it loose.  And when her small hand slipped between her legs, her thin fingers sinking into her pussy, the vibration of her moans stimulated his length, forcing him to slam his hips a bit harder, faster. She gazed upon his tightened abs, his every muscle visible from his movements even under his wet t-shit, his pleasure vocalized by his quickened gasping.

He was drunk with enjoyment. (Y/N) was spreading her legs more, almost sitting in the water that was pooling on the floor, giving him a chance to watch her fingering herself clearly. His gaze glued on her delicate fingers tenderly pushing inside and her palm stimulating her erect clit. (Y/N) could sense his dick starting to pulsate and twitch in her throat, she could taste the accumulating precum dripping from his swollen tip. She gripped his dick on the edge of his base, starting to jerk it in the same time as she sucked it.

“Oh fuck.(Y/N)…”- he tilted his head, but lowered it back down quickly enough, refusing to miss any moment of her pleasuring them both. Her grip became harder, her tongue danced around his veiny girth until a warm feeling started overcoming the insides of her mouth. Obi’s sperm dribbled down (Y/N)’s esophagus in hot spurts. His grumps echoed the narrow space and his jaw tightened while he unleashed his load, pulling out slightly. His cock pulsated against her lips, squirting the last sticky stirrings on the surface of her salivary muscle. She gulped for air heavily, but still letting the thick liquid drip down her throat. It took her a few swallows to get it all down, shyly gazing up to the man of her dreams. He reached down, spooning her up under her legs and arms like a princess, lifting her and pressing her on his chest. His warm lips rest on her forehead, staying there for a few moments. Just when he was about to speak up, his attention was broken by an unpleasant sound of a siren whistling. They looked at each other with a panicky look, rushing out of the shower, knowing exactly what the sound means. There is an Infernal on the loose.             

                             *                 *                   *

Sooty columns of charcoal grey blot out the sky. The smell of burned wood and ash filled the air, making it almost impossible to breath. The people were running in panic, trying to escape the sinister figure slowly dragging its heavy feet along the concrete, leaving the grimy trails behind it. Flames were licking its already burned body, leaving a terrifying inhuman grin on its face.

 (Y/N) could not shake the lurid feeling after seeing it, almost refusing to let Obi to face the creature while she was on the other side the neighborhood mending the wounded. She could barely concentrate, never before feeling this distracted from her work, even though it did not show on the outside, she was petrified by the thought of something happening to him.

Still, her gifted hands moved fast, patching up the nasty burns or wounds of the suffering victims, even curing their souls along with their flesh with the words of encouragement. Her stand was radiating self-confidence, fearlessness, and above all, leadership. The medic team from other companies followed her every instruction, she issued orders that only resulted in success, and her astonishing results did not go unnoticed.

From the corner of the tent, a electric blue eye spied on the company’s 8 doctor, silently absorbing her progress and accomplishments. This was not their first encounter, he have witnessed her skilled hands before, doing the magic no one else could. That funny part was that she had no magic, no special power, just her sharp mind, dedication and predominant talent. Burn’s own well respected doctors from company 1 had behaved submissively around her, and that intrigued him the most. Those highly educated and experienced people bowed to no one except him, and now, he is witnessing first hand that they decided to bow down once more, and it was not to a mighty and intimidating captain this time, it was a fragile, thin woman, with soft features and melodic voice.

He wanted this asset for a long time, before he actually laid his eyes upon her, when he only read the reports of her successful treatments, and shamelessly sent her a couple  of offers for a position in his prestige company, but she turned him down every time, politely stating that her position is company 8 was far more valuable. He also received a letter from Captain Akitaru, where it was unmistakably visible even from the dry ink on the paper how upset he was because of Burns’s constant offers, asking him to stop his proposals at once. Even though it was written in a professional manner, Burns grinned when he saw how the pen was pressed on the paper with force, giving away Obi’s anger. How the words did not match captain Akitaru’s usual relaxed and welcoming nature, these sentences were strong, fierce, but still composed nicely. This did nothing more for Leonard Burns but to make him laugh or entertained for a brief moment, certainly will not make him stop.

Even if he lost interest then, based only by the results, waiting for someone to overshadow her, that possibility fell down the drain when he gazed upon her the first time. It was not only the looks that tempted the mountainous captain, he was after all, an experienced man, having more than a fair share of women’s beauty. This was something different. Her  body radiated with more dominance and fearlessness than any other woman he encountered before. Her stand was strong but still graceful. She was not only brave, she was compassionate. She was risky for sure, he saw that with his own eyes, when she risked her own safety and ran to save a cat that belonged to one of the victims.

 Watching in admiration as a non-fiery woman ran into the raging fire within the house, pushing away the fire fighters that gave up on the almost collapsed structure, rushing in just to mend not only the poor boys broken bones but his mind and soul when she brought back his pet. That was not even the end. The way she confronted her own captain, when he almost lost his wits seeing her being so careless. She did not argue, apologize, she stated the facts about the house. How the main parts of the structure were still durable and having , and he remember her exact words, 3 more minutes of strength in them before collapsing because of the material from which they were made and how they were placed inside the house, and he remembers it clearly as day because in exactly 3 minutes the house collapsed.

 He was so impressed by her, in the second he notice she was alone he approached her, now not only tempted by her as a potential valuable asset of his company, but as a potential partner. He was more than displeased when she turned him down, in both ways, focusing on her work and almost pretending that he was ghost. Although this kind of result was not what he has expected and was not happy about it, it kind of made him even more interested, taking this as a challenge. And Leonard Burns is not the type of man who backs down. He waited long enough, patiently forging his plans and moves, and now was the time to strike. His interest grew in desire, and he was not a type of man who deprives himself from something he craves. His steps slowly led him to his target, approaching the busy woman from her back. (Y/N) was just finishing up the last of the stitches on the old lady who kept blessing her soul and admiring (Y/N)’s kindness. Cunningly like a fox, he sneaked in silence, but his stand still exuded with power, coming so close to her that when she turned, she bumped her head right into his stony chest. (Y/N) was astound, caught by surprise so much she froze.

Looking up, she followed the trail of his prominent torso to his revealed collarbones, to his strong thick neck and finally his face. The sky-crystal iris returned her gaze, while the other one was covered with his eye-patch, a dark lather thing that only made his sharp features look more intimidating. Only one corner of his lip was slightly curled into half a smile. He looked like a hunter who just saw his prey stepping into a trap, and trapped the little (Y/N) was, stuck between the wall of his flesh and the operating table behind her. She got flustered, but not in a positive and dreamy way, this was something strange, intense, caused by his impious stare.

  “Captain Burns. Would you mind stepping back? You are invading my personal space.”- her voice clear and loud, even she was surprised by the energy it carried. Maybe she was a kind and shy person but she was no push over. Only one man managed to shake her composure but it was certainly not this one. Burns opened his mouth slightly with a smile, showing that pearl white teeth under his lips. He moved, but not far enough. He was still nearly touching her with his body, and his sudden leaning in did not help.

“I apologize, (Y/N).”- he was so close to her face she could feel his hot breath on her cheeks, the smell of the minty gum he probably had earlier. She ducked, pretending to be reaching for a gauze from her medical kit just next to her left leg, to dodge the unpleasant closeness. She took it out, wiggling out of his flesh barricade and putting the gauze around the old woman’s arm, completely ignoring the captain, wishing he would leave as he did the last time she pulled this act.

“There you go. All finished. You will be ok, just try not to move the arm too much.” – she gently held the woman’s shoulder, helping her to get up.

“You are an angel doctor, may the dear Sol watch over you.”- old woman responded in a low hoarse voice slowly walking away.

“She is right. Blessed with such gift of healing and also…beauty, just like an angel.”- Burn’s deep voice was once more in (Y/N)’s ear, and she could feel it again too close. She turned, seeing him sitting on the table, arms crossed on his chest as he shamelessly wondered with his icy stare around her body. Her blood was slowly started to boil. The feeling that he gave her was unsettling. 

“That is not very appropriate Captain, I would appreciate if you would be a bit more professional.”- she snapped at him, clearly offended by him stepping out of line, but this reaction only made this game more fun for the silver fox Burns. He did not see this as an objection or refusal, he saw it as a dangerous game that radiated with erotic feeling. Her feisty stand made him almost aroused, since it was so long when a woman tried to act untouchable to him. But that is all it was, an act. Must be. In one moment he even decided to let go of the idea of her being his company’s doctor and maybe have her as a lover, but what would be more intense than a relationship inside the work space? That is something he really did not have in a while.

 “I am having problems breathing, and I was hoping an expert like you could take a look. “- without even waiting for her response, he started to unbutton his shirt, exposing her muscular chest. (Y/N) swallowed, hard, fretting feeling blooming in her body. She wanted to move but her obligations prevented her. She can’t refuse to help a man in need, no matter how uneasy he makes her. After all, his flattering words will get him nowhere, but her refusal might just cost her nothing less than her reputation. Her eyebrows narrowed, as she picked up her stethoscope, pushing his shirt to the side and started to listen to his breathing.

“Inhale.”- she ordered, carefully listening to the sound of his lungs filling with air. He obeyed.

 “Keep breathing slowly.”- she said, moving the stethoscope under his ribs, following a wheezing sound. She leaned, lowering her head. His breathing became shallow, somehow…strange. The weird sound was gone, and was replaced with something different…something, perverse. Burns was quietly growling, making a sound that resembled the one you hear from a man when he is 8 inches deep inside of you and pumping you with his heat. The sound followed with a feeling, when she felt the waves of air flowing down her neck, warming her skin and teasing the sensitive sports. His husky voice barely overcoming her racing heart savagely  pounding in her ears.

“Maybe if you become my company’s main doctor, you can check me regularly and I will not have to ambush you like this…(Y/N).”- his white hair falling on her neck, along her cheek, when he leaned closer. She froze, mouth dry, as her heart was now slamming in her ribcage so hard it was painful. He was too close, she could feel where his mouth was, if she turns he will…

“Burns! How low can one company’s captain sink to take a place as a patient for his personal routine check-ups, when actual victims are around him?”- A voice that usually sounded like a beautiful song, now was rough, sharp, cold, and above all, furious. So much so, that even the silver fox got surprised, lifting his head and body and giving (Y/N) the opportunity to get back up. She used it, stepping back and turning, only to see Obi standing just a few meters behind them, clenching his fists so tightly that his fingers turned white. His jaw was pulsating, strong chest rising and falling like he just ran a marathon.

“Or even worse, trying to steal my doctor again while my team and I are out there covering for your absence? We almost lost the east side of the town, a side that was supposed to be operated by you.”- he got closer, fire in his eyes more wild than on that Infernal she saw.  Not even a bullet can shot thorough you as Obi’s stare was piercing through Burns, whose face was now dark, shadows flowing across it, making it somehow devious.

 “I have my company members to handle that.”- he answered with a roar, landing on his feet and facing Obi. Even though he was taller and wider than captain Akitaru, Obi did not even flinch, actually, he looked like a young and powerful wolf ready to beat down the worn out alfa, taking what is rightfully his.

“And so do I, and (Y/N) is one of them, and will remain so.”- one more step was made by Obi, now staring Burns down, breaking the ice in his eyes by his raging mead colored ones. His body radiated with raw force, ready to demolish anything and anyone that stand in his way. And this time, even someone like Leonard Burns noticed it and decided not to cross the boundaries any more at this time. He lowered his eyebrows, closing his eyes and fixing the buttons on his shirt.

 “ We shall see Akitaru, you are not her husband, you are just her captain.” – he said uncouthly, leaving slowly. After a few steps, his clear blue eye appeared over his shoulder, as he winked at (Y/N). She pressed her lips in a straight line, turning away, unable to believe how vulgar can he be. But her tornado of thoughts was interrupted by Obi’s harsh voice.

 “Meet me in the emergency vehicle, I need to speak to you. Now.”- he disappeared behind the tent.      

       *                                    *                                      * 

Obi set in the empty ambulance in the back space where they kept the patients. No matter how hard he tried, he could not calm down or stop hearing the God forsaken words that Burns used.  

Just her captain…

“Tsk..”- He gripped his orange firefighting uniform on his forearms, barely overcoming the need to hit something hard. It was no wonder he said that, no one knew about what kind of relationship (Y/N) and he really had. And if they knew and still did not care and something like this happened, at least he could stand up to Burns like her boyfriend, not only captain. The thought of another man trying to seduce (Y/N) tormented him, smashing on his heart like stones. It did not help when the main reason of his worries stepped inside the van, slamming the door behind her and furiously turning to face him.

“Why did you do that? I was handling it fine Obi! You can’t go head on like that!”- her  irises darker, tears pooling in the corners of her eyes from frustration. She did not want to yell at him, but she needed him to know that she can handle herself just fine. Only problem with that was, that she managed to forget that Obi was not only feeling the need to have her under his wing like a hawk, protecting his members like a real captain, no, he was protecting her like a king protects his queen, and when that queen forgets about the crown on her head and the fact he would die for her sake if needed, the king loses it. Obi jumped on his feet, trying his best to lower his voice but it still came out more than loud. 

“He is trying to get you to transfer from day one!  He ignored my warnings, ignored your refusals, and I will be damned if I see him trying his tricks in person!”- he was barely suppressing the painful avalanche of shattered pieces of his heart, not wanting to bring that subject now, but (Y/N)’s response made it impossible.

 “And? Did I stay? I did! I can take care of other captains trying to get to be their doctor, I know I have obligations to our company and…”

“He was hitting on you (Y/N)! He did not care about your abilities, he was trying to get involved with you! Obligations?? How about your obligation to me as a girlfriend? Honesty, for example? Being honest of who you are dating, not making me act like only your damn superior! Making me tolerate the filthy moves of other men on you, right in front of my eyes, and even then I respected your wishes and now you are trying to get me to stay quiet and watch from a far how he is breathing down your neck?! “- Obi was yelling so hard he can feel the burn blooming in his throat. His fist slammed the metal of the van. (Y/N) stood in silence with her mouth opened, realizing what she had done. She hurt him, not intentionally but still did. Her rules made him suffer, and he still obliged because he loved her, but seeing someone else trying to harm her in any way, even by stepping over the limits of her personal space is something he can’t allow.

 “I can’t  (Y/N), I won’t just stand by. I am not a crazy jealous man, I know you are an honest woman and would never betray me, but I will protect your honor, I’ll be damned otherwise. You deserve the respect, you are a great doctor, and this…this was wrong. And yes, I will bite my tongue for your sake, but I can’t lo…”- Obi’s shaky voice was silenced by (Y/N)’s lips catching his when she jumped on him, grabbing onto him like he was the only thing she ever wanted. Tears strolled down her cheeks while she kissed him with raw passion, touched so deeply by the words that he spoke. She knew he was a good man, but she never imagined how deep that goodness went. He didn’t even lack wings, he really was one of Sol’s angels, and she was sure of it, and he was hers. And that was the only thing he wanted, to be hers.

 He wrapped his long strong arms around her, hugging her so tightly that he almost broke her, but then he released the grip a bit, trying to contain his euphoric longing. Their mouths crashed on one another like raindrops crash on the dry ground, feeding it, nurturing it, just how they did their hearts in that moment. Her closeness once more awoke his erotic desire. Something about her drive him mad in every way, emotionally, sexually and physically, forcing him to hammer her down on the medical bed placed in the corner of the van. He pushed her down, towering over her, kissing her neck and sinking into her cleavage while he violently started unzipping his pants. (Y/N)’s flustered face was half covered with her palm, as she tried to suppress her lewd moans on his hungry kisses and gliding of his hands all over her slim body. He cupped her ass with his palm, turning her over on her tummy, climbing on top of her. His hand slid across her spine, along the back of her neck and into her hair, gripping her gently and pulling her head back so his lips can once again find hers. Her muffled moans were eaten by him sucking on her tongue gently while pulling her black jeans down along with her purple lace panties.

 “I want you (Y/N)..I want to make you mine over and over again.”- he gasped in her mouth as the sound of his voice was combined with the sound of his pants being pulled down. A familiar feeling of his throbbing heat spread across her soaked pussy lips as he parted her ass cheeks, trying to gain access to the main thing. He teased himself a bit by rubbing his erected cock along her slit, trying to collect as much of her juices as possible before he lifted his hips and then slammed into her, kicking the air from (Y/N)’s chest. His adrenaline from earlier still rushing violently in his veins, making him to drill inside her without suppressing his strength or speed, feeling the van with the wet sound of his base smashing onto her cunt, and his groin on her ass cheeks.

 “Fuck….you pussy is so tight…and…it is mine..just mine.”- he smashed harder, lifting himself upwards and swinging back down in a rush, making the bed squeal under them. (Y/N) could not hold in her loud screams, as she grabbed the pillow with the rough green fabric, placing it under her chin and burying her face in, screaming her lungs out while he fucked her like a beast. He started biting her shoulders, licking his way to the back of her neck to leave more reddish marks there, making sure that with every bite another almost unbearable hit of his hips accompanies it, making his sweet (Y/N) voice her pleasure loud enough even with that pillow stuffed half way in her mouth. His slams became faster, as he slid his hand under her shirt, starting to knead her breasts, pinching the soft flesh, searching for her hardened nipples to lightly twist them while he picks up the pace, feeling his sperm pumping down his dick.

 “I want to mark you even from inside (Y/N)….I will cum in you baby.”- this was not a question, this was a statement. As he shifted her nipples along his rough fingers, slamming in her more violently than before, getting all of his frustration out with that last few hits and the thick hot sperm that squirted out of his swollen tip in her womb.  He slowly turned her, picking her up with one hand and changed their places, placing her on his chest while he was lying on the bed.  He gasped heavily, gently removing the strands of her hair from her face. (Y/N) also tried to catch her breath, but she certainly could not catch a break when Obi spoke.

 “I want us to come clean. I want people to know that you are mine. “- he lifted her chin up to make her look at him in the eye. His gaze again loving, caring, soft, the same one she adores. She could not help but to smile, slightly nodding. When he saw her approval he smiled ear to ear, kissing the tip of her nose and getting her closer on his chest.

 “Promise? Because if you don’t do it, I will propose to you in front of everyone and you will not have a choice.”- (Y/N)’s heart skipped a beat on that words, making her lift herself up on his chest, mouth shaped in a wide circle, stuttering.

 “W-wha…I-I-..I promise! No! Please! We can tell everyone! Today!”- her face red as a paprika, looking nervously around, playing with the material of his uniform. He took her hands in his, lifting himself and placing his forehead on hers.

 “Hay..I was joking..relax.”- he kissed her cheek, but something inside him made him think that this was actually not a joke. Being surprised by his own brain, his cheeks fired up, smiling shyly to (Y/N)who just swallowed a whole lot accumulated saliva in her mouth. Still not being able to say nothing, but to place a promising kiss on his loving eyes, trying to silence the embarrassing thought in her mind.

 I wish that is was not a joke.

[astro-rain]

delicate; b.barnes

chapter four - mri’s & other modern commodities

delicate masterlist

word count: 1.8k

synopsis: bucky faces his first day of treatment, and discovers some new things along the way: some scary, some awesome, some maybe slightly embarassing.

pairings: bucky barnes x fem!reader

[A/N]: not my gif

When he woke up, he scanned his room, making sure everything was the same as how he left it the night before. Making sure no one came in while he was asleep and poisoned his brain. Making sure he was waking up in his living quarters in Wakanda and not a damp cell in some secret Hydra base. It was just something he did now.

Some may call it paranoia, others may call it adaptation. Either way, once he stepped outside and made sure he was alone, he allowed himself to take a breath.

Today was the day, the first day of official treatment. He had no idea what to expect; he was just hoping to high heavens that it would end up working. Freedom. That's all he wanted. Liberation from the chains Hydra had had around him since he fell from the train all those years ago.

He was apprehensive for sure, but he tried his best to keep himself optimistic. Bucky was sure that Shuri was smarter than any Hydra scientist he once came in contact with. So, if they can tear apart his mind, perhaps she can put it back together. Right?

Her in addition to (Y/N). That psychologist woman. He had spoken to her the day before at the lake. She was funny, and she seemed decently easy to talk to. That's a good sign, he guessed. She told him that she hadn't minded relocating to assist in his treatment, but he honestly couldn't make out her true feelings. She was rather hard to read. Perhaps it was a psychologist thing; he tried not to look too far into it.

He waited outside his door until two Wakandans came to escort him to Shuri. Bucky noticed they were armed. Guards. He wasn't surprised nor did he blame them. However, that didn't make it any easier to trust. He hadn't had that luxuy in a very long time. The former assassin fought against the voice in the back of his head telling him to analyze their every move in order to ensure that he wasn't in any danger. That any minute they weren't going to strap him down and rip his brain apart the way it had been so many times before. So many times. He gave the slightest wince at the thought. His brain suddenly felt prickly, painful memories creeping up on him.

Not now, don't think about it.

Sometimes, if he fixated on the thoughts for too long, he would drive himself to this panicked state of fear and constriction. He wasn't sure exactly what this thing was. All he knew was that these things - these episodes - were extremely unpleasant, and utterly unnecessary at the moment.

He shook his head (somehow hoping that this would rid him of the prickly memories like a dog shaking off water), strands of long brown hair swaying quickly in front of his eyes, and fixed his gaze to the floor.

Floor. Floor. Floor. Floor. Just the floor. The floor. The floor. The floor-

"Sergeant Barnes!" Shuri welcomed him happily.

Oh. He was in the lab now. He let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. Let's do this.

"Good morning," he smiled, "and just Bucky's okay."

"Of course, of course. This is my lab! Best place in Wakanda in my humble opinion. Today's only the first day of treatment, so nothing too intensive. But, we will be working all the same!"

He glanced around the lab. The guards were at the doorway and they didn't look like they were leaving anytime soon. Again, he wasn't surprised. Moreover, sitting at a table a few feet from Shuri, was a familiar face. This familiar face soon met his gaze.

"Hi, Bucky" (Y/N) greeted, offering a polite smile. "See! I remembered this time."

Bucky grinned. "Are you still (Y/N), or is it Dr. (Y/L/N) since we're in the lab now?"

"I'm always (Y/N)."

"I don't know, if I went to school for as long as you did, I'd make everyone call me Doctor," Shuri added.

(Y/N) laughed. "Well, if you want to call me Doctor you're more than welcome, Shuri."

"That's the spirit, Doc," she declared before turning to Bucky. "Now, follow me and we'll get a quick MRI done."

"A what?" He quickly caught up to Shuri who already started walking away.

"An MRI. It stands for magnetic resonance imaging. Basically, scanners use strong magnetic fields, magnetic field gradients, and radio waves to generate images of the organs in the body."*

Yes, very basic.

(Y/N) leaned over to Bucky, explaining softly, "It's used to form pictures of the anatomy and the physiological processes of the body."**

"Oh."

"You just lay down and it scans you. Y'don't even feel anything."

"Thats... not too bad, I guess."

"It's a bit of a tight fit though, so I hope you're aren't claustrophobic."

Bucky rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, after cryo, I doubt tight spaces will be too much of a bother for me."

"Right," said (Y/N), "but it's still decently in your personal space. Just so you know - so there's no surprises."

He nodded. They didn't say anything until Shuri stopped short in front of them. She stood a couple feet from a shiny metal table which was lined up in front of an equally shiny and metallic semi-cricle arch. It was long enough to fit - well, would you look at that - a body.

"Oh. I guess there is a surprise," (Y/N) blurted, turning to Shuri, confused. "That isn't like any MRI machine I've ever seen."

"That's because you're in Wakanda," Shuri flashed a proud smile. "Tech's a bit... advanced here."

(Y/N) turned to Bucky. He thought he saw something resembling self consciousness flow across her features, but he wasn't sure.

"Sorry, I guess I was wrong. But, honestly this is way better than a typical MRI set up. It's much more open... and wide. Regularly, it would be like a super narrow tube with hardly any space inside. This way, you'll even be able to see us and the rest of the room."

That's good. More space. More freedom. And he'll be able to see her- them, see them.

Shuri clapped. "Alright! Shall we get started then?"

He had no idea how any of this worked; he was way out of his element here. He just barely learned what a damn MRI was, and had to hide his shock when he found out. Medicine has changed dramatically since 1945. Although it is helpful, he is completely clueless. Great.

"Do I jus-just lay on the table?" He asked, unsure.

"Yep! Just lie there and be absolutely still, and I'll do the rest," Shuri replied, reassuringly as she walked around to a control panel next to the machine, preparing to start.

Bucky took his place on the thin metal table, and he thought he was seeing things. Was it was levitating? Honestly, from what he's seen so far he wouldn't even be surprised. He stared up at the ceiling, getting lost in thought. A string of various questions and uncertainties fluttered through his battered mind.

Would the metal arm interfere with the magnet- oh. Right. No arm. Just a scan, no need to worry. (Y/N) said it would be fine. Can I even trust her Then again, can I even trust anyone yet? She's the best I got right now. Damn it, I wish I wasn't so wary of everyone.

"Hey," a gentle voice pulled him out.

He looked over to the left of him, the side with no arm. (Y/N).

"I can practically hear your brain whirring around right now - which is justified - but do you need anything?"

'Do you need anything?' He hadn't heard that phrase in a while.

He adjusted his body on the table. "I'm alright, just... a bit out of my element here."

She nodded, knowingly. "Honestly, me too. This lab looks like somethin' out of a sci-fi movie for me, so I can't imagine what it must feel like to you."

She was looking down at him. He felt vulnerable, exposed. It seemed like she noticed.

"Here, I have an idea."

With that, she turned and grabbed something from a nearby table. Rotating around to face him again, she displayed what she had taken: a pair of headphones... but without a wire? What the hell?

"Are they broken?" he asked, feeling perpetually confused.

"No, they're wirelessly connected to my phone. It's called bluetooth."

The look on his face was almost laughable.

"Bluetooth? What kind of name is Bluetooth?"

"The kind of name that I didn't invent nor should I be blamed for," she chuckled. "Do you want to listen to music while you're in there? It might help to keep you down on Earth with us."

Music. The thought was almost surreal. He hadn't been privileged with such a pleasure in longer than he'd care to admit. It actually seemed... nice.

"Y-yeah," he said, pondering. "That'd actually be nice."

"Awesome."

She leaned over him to put the headphones on his ears, causing him a very conflicting series of emotions.

First of all, close. She was very close to his face. His face, his eyes, his nose, his lips. It almost seemed a tad bit intimate. And then he realized he hadn't been this close to a woman in forever. A real woman, not some fellow assassin he had to take out. He hoped the shy embarrassment he felt didn't show on his cheeks.

Second of all, she was wrapping something around his head, his brain. He tried not to, but he couldn't stop the muscle memory of what he'd been conditioned to feel. Hydra's machine would wrap around his head and rip his psyche apart. His mind expected pain, the worst pain, the dehumanizing, out of body, mind splitting pain. He hoped the way he flinched ever so slightly didn't offend (Y/N).

She didn't seem offended, and her voice was soft. "You're good. Just music and a scan. Then you're done."

He looked up at her face, reassuring and calm. He took a deep breath.

"Good?" she asked.

He nodded. "Think so."

"If it's too much at any point just let us know, and we'll pull you right out. It's your comfort level, your choice."

His choice. Choice. Control. The prospect gave him comfort.

She gave him one last look before stepping away and signaling Shuri to start the machine. The seemingly levitating table began a smooth descent into the machine when the music started playing. It almost startled him, but he then he was pleasantly surprised by what he heard.

There were loud drums, guitar riffs with attitude, and voices that had so much emotion they were almost screaming. It was like no music he had ever heard before, and he loved it. In fact, he was so into it that he didn't even notice when the MRI had finished. That is, until he felt a feather light hand on his shoulder. His eyes opened, and (Y/N) had the biggest grin on her face. While taking the headphones off of him, she looked very pleased with herself.

She looked at Shuri but declared to no one in particular, "Bucky likes Rock and Roll!"

- - -

* = from wikipedia

** = from wikipedia

[rileymarie]

Fahrenheit 451 Quotes

“Let you alone! That's all very well, but how can I leave myself alone? We need not to be let alone. We need to be really bothered once in a while. How long is it since you were really bothered? About something important, about something real?” And then he shut up, for he remembered last week and the two white stones staring up at the ceiling and the pump-snake with the probing eye and the two soap-faced men with the cigarettes moving in their mouths when they talked. But that was another Mildred, that was a Mildred so deep inside this one, and so bothered, really bothered, that the two women had never met. He turned away.

Once, books appealed to a few people, here, there, everywhere. They could afford to be different. The world was roomy. But then the world got full of eyes and elbows and mouths. Double, triple, quadruple population. Films and radios, magazines, books levelled down to a sort of paste pudding norm, do you follow me?”

Do you see? Out of the nursery into the college and back to the nursery; there's your intellectual pattern for the past five centuries or more.

Politics? One column, two sentences, a headline! Then, in mid-air, all vanishes! Whirl man's mind around about so fast under the pumping hands of publishers, exploiters, broadcasters, that the centrifuge flings off all unnecessary, time-wasting thought!”

School is shortened, discipline relaxed, philosophies, histories, languages dropped, English and spelling gradually neglected, finally almost completely ignored. Life is immediate, the job counts, pleasure lies all about after work. Why learn anything save pressing buttons, pulling switches, fitting nuts and bolts?”

More cartoons in books. More pictures. The mind drinks less and less. Impatience.

Surely you remember the boy in your own school class who was exceptionally 'bright,' did most of the reciting and answering while the others sat like so many leaden idols, hating him. And wasn't it this bright boy you selected for beatings and tortures after hours? Of course it was. We must all be alike. Not everyone born free and equal, as the Constitution says, but everyone made equal.

Coloured people don't like Little Black Sambo. Burn it. White people don't feel good about Uncle Tom's Cabin. Burn it. Someone's written a book on tobacco and cancer of the lungs? The cigarette people are weeping? Burn the book. Serenity, Montag. Peace, Montag. Take your fight outside. Better yet, into the incinerator.

You can't rid yourselves of all the odd ducks in just a few years. The home environment can undo a lot you try to do at school. That's why we've lowered the kindergarten age year after year until now we're almost snatching them from the cradle.

If you don't want a man unhappy politically, don't give him two sides to a question to worry him; give him one. Better yet, give him none. Let him forget there is such a thing as war. If the Government is inefficient, top-heavy, and tax-mad, better it be all those than that people worry over it.

Cram them full of non-combustible data, chock them so damned full of 'facts' they feel stuffed, but absolutely 'brilliant' with information. Then they'll feel they're thinking, they'll get a sense of motion without moving. And they'll be happy, because facts of that sort don't change. Don't give them any slippery stuff like philosophy or sociology to tie things up with. That way lies melancholy. Any man who can take a TV wall apart and put it back together again, and most men can nowadays, is happier than any man who tries to slide-rule, measure, and equate the universe, which just won't be measured or equated without making man feel bestial and lonely.

And the second?” “Leisure.” “Oh, but we've plenty of off-hours.” “Off-hours, yes. But time to think? If you're not driving a hundred miles an hour, at a clip where you can't think of anything else but the danger, then you're playing some game or sitting in some room where you can't argue with the fourwall televisor. Why? The televisor is 'real.' It is immediate, it has dimension. It tells you what to think and blasts it in. It must be, right. It seems so right. It rushes you on so quickly to its own conclusions your mind hasn't time to protest, 'What nonsense!'”

“Jesus God,” said Montag. “Every hour so many damn things in the sky! How in hell did those bombers get up there every single second of our lives! Why doesn't someone want to talk about it? We've started and won two atomic wars since 1960. Is it because we're having so much fun at home we've forgotten the world? Is it because we're so rich and the rest of the world's so poor and we just don't care if they are? I've heard rumours; the world is starving, but we're well-fed. Is it true, the world works hard and we play? Is that why we're hated so much?

Lord, how they've changed it — in our 'parlours' these days. Christ is one of the 'family' now. I often wonder it God recognizes His own son the way we've dressed him up, or is it dressed him down? He's a regular peppermint stick now, all sugar-crystal and saccharine when he isn't making veiled references to certain commercial products that every worshipper absolutely needs.”

The same infinite detail and awareness could be projected through the radios and televisors, but are not. No, no, it's not books at all you're looking for! Take it where you can find it, in old phonograph records, old motion pictures, and in old friends; look for it in nature and look for it in yourself. Books were only one type of receptacle where we stored a lot of things we were afraid we might forget. There is nothing magical in them at all. The magic is only in what books say, how they stitched the patches of the universe together into one garment for us.

"Number one: Do you know why books such as this are so important? Because they have quality. And what does the word quality mean? To me it means texture. This book has pores. It has features. This book can go under the microscope. You'd find life under the glass, streaming past in infinite profusion. The more pores, the more truthfully recorded details of life per square inch you can get on a sheet of paper, the more 'literary' you are. That's my definition, anyway. Telling detail. Fresh detail. The good writers touch life often. The mediocre ones run a quick hand over her. The bad ones rape her and leave her for the flies.

“So now do you see why books are hated and feared? They show the pores in the face of life. The comfortable people want only wax moon faces, poreless, hairless, expressionless.

Only if the third necessary thing could be given us. Number one, as I said, quality of information. Number two: leisure to digest it. And number three: the right to carry out actions based on what we learn from the inter-action of the first two.

They're Caesar's praetorian guard, whispering as the parade roars down the avenue, 'Remember, Caesar, thou art mortal.' Most of us can't rush around, talking to everyone, know all the cities of the world, we haven't time, money or that many friends. The things you're looking for, Montag, are in the world, but the only way the average chap will ever see ninety-nine per cent of them is in a book.

Don't ask for guarantees. And don't look to be saved in any one thing, person, machine, or library. Do your own bit of saving, and if you drown, at least die knowing you were headed for shore.”

The old man nodded. “Those who don't build must burn. It's as old as history and juvenile delinquents.”

[akawrites000]

Secrets - part 3

part 1 here

part 2 here

Ash tried their best not to show their disinterest that threatened to seep beyond their poker face. They really didn't want to be here, but supervillain had decided to gather their team because apparently the hero had been captured successfully, at long last.

In the few run ins that Ash had had with the hero, if there's one thing that they knew, it was that the hero was a really competent fighter and was almost unbeatable in battle. Ash would go as far as saying that they even respected the hero's dedication to their work. So that's why it was really weird to them that that hero could be captured so easily. They even felt bad for them, because they had nothing against them really. If life was kinder to them, then they wouldn't even be here, they might have even stood at the opposite side of all of this mess, and maybe could have even been an ally to justice.

They shake their head, ridding it of thoughts about a past that was now impossible to change. Right now, all Ash wanted to do was go home, back to that apartment where Adrian and Alex were waiting for them. Alex did say that they were going to go all out preparing dinner and Ash would be lying if they said that they weren't looking forward to it.

Just then the door to the hide out banged open, and two figures were thrown haphazardly onto the floor. Ash felt their stomach twist and turn when they got a good look at their faces- they began wiping their eyes multiple times, pinched themselves, did about anything that people generally did to check if this was some twisted dream. They wanted someone to tell them that this wasn't real- that this was all just a bad dream, a nightmare caused by over stress. Ash tried pinching a little harder but they still felt pain. Maybe if I pinch a bit more, I won't feel anything?

They wanted to scream their lungs out, because why did the two people that they cared about the most end up here, in the supervillain's hideout. Why?!

This made no sense. Nothing made any sense.

"Well well, looks like you've knocked the hero out cold." Supervillain's the first one to speak, eyes glistening with such mirth it made Ash want to recoil into themselves.

But hero? One of them was the hero all along? But who?

Their question was answered when supervillain stepped forward, bending down and grabbing Adrian's chin roughly with one hand. Ash had to hold themselves back before they ended up twisting that hand in a moment of fury.

Don't touch them! Ash wanted to scream.

Alex was the first one who regained consciousness, squirming around uncomfortably with the binds on their wrists. Ash wanted to rush forward and immediately shield them from supervillain's piercing gaze, but they held themselves back. Neither Ash nor their friends would make it out of there alive if they made a move now.

"Oh, good morning to you civilian. How unfortunate that you happened to tag along with hero when we had planned to kidnap them."

Ash watched as Alex stared at the unconscious form of Adrian in utter shock, clearly struggling to take in that piece of information. Alex's eyes darted, flustered, from the supervillain, back to Adrian, and Ash could literally see the cogs turning in their brain, Alex grappling with the piece of information thrown at them, not knowing what to do with it. So Alex didn't know either, Ash thought. They understood though, after getting to know the both of them better, Ash could confidently say now that Adrian didn't tell Alex because they wanted to keep them away from this world, and who could blame them? Ash definitely wouldn't. They looked at Alex's stunned figure sadly- watching Adrian's effort break down in front of them was heartbreaking.

Plus, the identity of a hero when compared to a villain was especially that of top priority. They've heard that the supervillain had spent years trying to uncover hero's identity- and that was finally revealed today.

Without any warning, supervillain wedged their foot right into Adrian's stomach, making them flinch awake with pain, only to scream. Alex tried to lunge forward but was held back by the henchmen. Ash almost lurched forward, again as Alex started struggling, screaming to get the henchmen to let them go, and Adrian was still out of it, clearly in pain. The entire situation screamed despair at Ash and tore their heart into tiny, pathetic pieces.

"Oh Villain, what's wrong?" Supervillain's attention turned for a meager second away from Adrian and Alex, and that made Ash more happy than they were willing to admit, " you just froze all of a sudden."

"I'm sorry, I'm a bit unsteady on my legs. I'm alright now."

Don't lose your cool. If you play this out nicely enough, you can still get them out. They don't know who you are, this is the perfect opportunity.

Having made up their mind, Ash wobbled forward, stopping right in between Adrian and Alex.

"What's wrong Villain? Do you want to go back home today after all?"

Ash wanted to puke at the fake concern in their voice. "No supervillain, that won't be necessary. I just wanted to make a suggestion, if you would let me."

Supervillain nods their head, signaling Ash to continue.

"We only need the hero right? If a civilian was to go missing, it would cause unnecessary issues and the police will begin to investigate-

The sound of skin against skin could be heard reverberating throughout the entire room. Supervillain had just slapped Ash so hard, that the force caused their head to fall sideways. From the corner of their eyes, Ash could see worry swimming in Adrian's eyes and they heard Alex gasp. Even in such a situation, even without knowing their true identity, these two still cared. That simple fact made Ash's heart warm.

"A-are you okay?"

Ash looked over to Alex and simply smiled, hoping that was enough of a response to the question. It hurt a little too much to talk right now. That slap had messed up Ash's disguise, their mask out of place, just enough to show their hair and eyes.

" Now now villain, you know better than to question my plans hmm?" Supervillain spoke with a voice that could cut.

Ash took a shaky step back, visibly flinching at the tone. This was the first time they'd seen the supervillain face to face and they were as cruel and heartless as the rumors said that they were.

"Your answer Villain?"

"Y-yes, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have done that."

Adrian's breath hitched in their throat as they took in the Villain's appearance- raven tresses that stood on the thin line between wavy and curly, those honey orbs, and that silky voice- there's no mistake. Even though the villain was only showing their back to them, Adrian knew. But Alex beat them to it.

"Ash, is that you?"

Shit. Ash visibly tensed, realizing that their voice changer was knocked out of position by that cursed slap.

"Ash, it's you isn't it?"

Alex called out again, sounding surer this time and Ash just stood there, like a deer caught in headlights, unable to decide whether to lie or tell the truth. If they said the truth, they would be killed by supervillain, and if they lied, they would have to fight but in the end still be killed by supervillain. It really didn't matter either way.

Ash looked back at Adrian for a small second and the recognition in their eyes was the final straw.

If they've already figured it out, then there's no point in keeping secrets anymore.

Ash stepped forward, taking off their mask completely. Alex gasped, the same shock crossing their facial features once again, looking like a fish out of water, completely lost and desperate. Adrian just looked at them and sighed. Ash couldn't decide if they sounded relieved or disappointed- they desperately hoped that it wasn't the latter.

Supervillain cackled, clapping their hands together almost maniacally, their rough voice echoing inside the tiny room. They looked like someone who was having the time of their life, enjoying an unexpected plot twist to their favorite TV drama.

While supervillain was distracted, Adrian struggled to get back up on their feet, only to be kicked harder this time, right where they'd been kicked earlier. They fell to their side, coughing sharply, a copper like taste springing to life in their mouth. Everything ached and there was just so much pain-

And then a gentle touch, slowly pushing away sweat slicked blond locks, and then a strong arm holding them close. Another arm clutched onto their shoulder, spreading warmth everywhere. Adrian opened their eyes to see Alex and Ash by their side, both of them looking like it was the end of the world.

And for the first time in a long time Adrian didn't feel scared. They had the two people that they trusted their life with by their side. And that wasn't going to change now, knowing that Ash is a villain. All of that didn't matter. At the end of the day, Adrian is Adrian and Ash is Ash, they're just two college students struggling to complete their degree in peace, forced into hero and villain costumes.

"This is all just so touching, isn't it?" Supervillain drawled, a hand coming up to wipe fake tears as the other villains and henchmen all nodded their heads, like petty little puppets. "A villain, hero and a civilian, all trying to have their happy ending."

Supervillain sneered and Villain felt a chill run down their spine.

"But I'll be damned if I let you have it that easily!"

A blast shot out from Supervillain's hand and Adrian had just enough time to push Alex away to the opposite side, clutching Ash in their arms and rolling over to the other side, missing the blast by a hair's breadth.

Ash felt Adrian groan against them and their blood froze. Adrian is hurt, and I have to get them out of here.

"Take Alex and leave Adrian, I'll take care of this." Ash said in the most menacing voice that they could muster.

But Adrian wasn't backing down, giving them a death stare and Ash thinks that they have never seen them this angry before.

"You're dreaming if you think that I would abandon you and save just myself and Alex." Their voice threatened, like pines and needles.

"But I'm a villain, I don't deserve any of this!" Ash wailed, their voice a mix of anger, sadness and desperation and it hurt Adrian's ears to hear Ash's sweet voice sound like that.

"Adrian, Ash, look out!"

This time it was Ash who saw the blast coming first, pulling Adrian flush to their chest and rolling away to shield them from the blast. It scraped away a little bit of their costume on the back and they flinched at the sharp, burning feeling on their spine.

Adrian tensed in their arms, eyes darting up to scan Ash's body for any more injuries. Upon finding no new ones, they sighed in relief, pulling themselves up and then Ash. They hid behind a wall for a moment of rest and looked into Ash's eyes softly.

"I'm a hero and I protect people, so let me do my job okay?"

"You'll protect me, even though I'm a villain?" Ash sounded so unsure of themselves and it made Adrian's heart tug painfully. They slowly brought their hand up to Ash's cheek, fingers gently circling the bruise that was forming there. Ash sighed unconsciously, feeling safe and content, all in one moment. They didn't know it was even possible to feel that way.

"I don't know what you're talking about, you are only Ash to me. Besides, I'm sure you had your reasons, just like I have mine." Adrian smirked.

And suddenly, Ash could breathe more easily. They at least had enough fight in them to roll their eyes at Adrian's antics, "Way to ruin the moment, idiot."

They moved together, movements in perfect sync as they made it across the room to reach Alex, while dodging the supervillain's attacks. Alex looked like they were just about done with everything. Ash couldn't really blame them. Adrian chuckled playfully at the sight.

"So it takes a hero, a villain and a supervillain to finally shut you up huh Alex?"

But Alex wasn't an idiot, they knew that while Ash showed their emotions more freely, Adrian would hide them and begin to joke away their worries. So Alex stared back at Adrian resolutely, with a determined gaze.

Adrian let out a knowing sigh and ruffled their hair a little, glad that Alex was safe more than anything. Being a normal civilian in a room filled with humans who possessed superpowers was dangerous as it is. Adrian never wanted to feel so helpless again, just thinking about how they couldn't do anything when Alex was threatened with a knife to their throat made their skin scrawl.

Ash bent down, gently bopping their nose with Alex. They definitely preferred the noisy version, seeing them quiet was just unsettling. Alex smiled up at them.

"I'm going to protect you two, no matter what." Adrian said suddenly, putting an arm around each of them, giving them a slight squeeze. They were met back with the brightest smiles they'd ever seen. Adrian felt like they could win this battle with just that encouragement. Being a hero was a lonely job and you always had to look tough on the surface, no matter what you were feeling on the inside.

And that's why Adrian treasured Ash and Alex so much, because they knew that they would stand by their side, no matter what.

"Ahem" Supervillain coughed obnoxiously, "It would be nice if you three didn't forget that I exist."

-

It was a tough battle, and by the end of it Adrian and Ash sported many bruises and many more scars, a few of them bleeding more than the rest. But supervillain was defeated, and Alex felt like crying out tears of relief at that fact alone. Because that meant that Adrian and Ash won't be in harm's way anymore.

They ran up to a staggering Adrian, being supported by Ash, holding them both as gently as they could. The other two chuckled softly, returning the hug. The three just stood like that for who knows how long, just basking in the fact that they were all safe, alive and warm, and their hearts were still beating, just like they're supposed to and didn't just give up halfway. Alex was the first one to break the embrace, looking up and down at Adrian and Alex as if they were deciding on what wedding attire to pick.

"I'm definitely going to need a lot of first aid kits tonight."

Adrian and Ash laughed together as Alex pulled them both forward, one hand in each of theirs.

All of them stepped inside their apartment with warm smiles on their faces, knowing that they belonged with each other and they weren't going anywhere.

Okay this is the final part / this snippet is finally over / and this became long as usual / hope you all enjoyed this!! / I think it's fun to think that supervillain secretly shipped all of them so I'll leave this here

[spectrumed]

11. death

For about a year I’ve been helping to take care of my aunt’s cat, Klara. She’s very affectionate, though in that certain feline way where she does cherish petting but only on her own terms. She’s quite old, she’s only got one eye. I like to joke she’s offered her other eye to Mimir’s well in exchange for knowledge. Like, y’know, Odin did. And now Klara is dead. A couple of days ago I found her lying dead by a window. She seemed to have picked quite the peaceful spot to die. At first I thought she was snoozing, as cats are known to do, but when I came up to touch her I noticed her body was all stiff. Rigor mortis. That’s a fucking metal word, isn’t it? There’s gotta be so many bands out there named Rigor Mortis. A quick look at the Encyclopaedia Metallum and… yes, I see there’s fifteen bands listed called Rigor Mortis. Nineteen bands, if you include variations of Rigor Mortis, like Rigor Mortis Brazil. Well, in any case, rest in peace Klara. I will miss you very much.

I recently watched a few videos of diagnosed psychopaths answering questions about their condition. Psychopaths don’t fear death, or well, maybe that’s generalising. I apologise to any psychopaths reading this that do fear death. I think in general, most psychopaths don’t fear death. Psychopaths are all too happy to engage with risk-taking behaviour. Many psychopaths take part in extreme sports. Perhaps it has something to do with being so emotionally stunted. In one of the videos the psychopath being interviewed revealed she only ever feels three different kinds of emotions. Happy, angry, or hungry. If humans are machines, then psychopaths are those machines where you’ve stripped out all of the unnecessary parts. Imagine buying a new car, but you decide that there’s lots of features there you simply don’t need. No GPS, no radio or CD player, no seat warmer, no little place for you to put your cup of coffee. If you’re already getting rid of all that stuff, why not get rid of the seat belt?

Though, there’s no real reason to pity psychopaths. I know that as an empathetic person you may wonder if it is alright to act demeaning towards psychopaths, to refer to them as “stripped-down machines.” Surely, they’re still humans? Shouldn’t we show them the kindness of our hearts, no matter their particular shortcomings? Of course, yes, I feel that impulse too. I am a kind-hearted softie, a bleeding-heart liberal. But… psychopaths genuinely don’t care. Psychopaths don’t get hurt that easily. Sadness isn’t a psychopathic trait. Vulnerability isn’t a psychopathic thing. It’s us non-psychopaths that have been gifted with grief. Kinda sounds like, at some level, it’s quite nice being a psychopath. Especially if you’re someone who can get overwhelmed by the stink of melancholia. The funk of gloominess. The malodorous pervasiveness of the blues. Psychopaths don’t feel that. They just feel happiness, anger, or hunger. Sometimes all three at once.

Psychopaths may own pets. When those pets die, psychopaths may appear like they’re mourning, and they will be, to a certain degree. But true psychopaths (in the sense that they’re truly, and wholly, wired towards psychopathy with no room for non-psychopathic thinking,) will not regard their pets as being anything other than property. They lost their dog, and they’re vexed. They’re not truly sad, no. Sadness isn’t part of the psychopath’s emotional repertoire, remember. The psychopath mourns the death of their pet like you may mourn the death of your computer. Suddenly, one day, your computer just got busted, and now you’re all annoyed because you know you’ve gotta buy a new one. While, sure, I know that some lesser psychopaths may actually have the capability to extend some true love for their pets, I think it is safe to say that to love one’s pet, one needs to be able to exhibit functioning levels of empathy. It is one thing to love another human. It requires quite the high degree of empathy for someone to be able to love a member of another species.

But autistic people don’t feel empathy, right? There is a frustratingly common misconception about autism that autistic people don’t feel empathy. It is pervasive, it is how the media loves to portray autistic people. Cold, uncaring, thinking machines. Calculators made into flesh. After all, if you are socially awkward, if you don’t like hanging out in big crowds, then surely, you don’t care that much about other people. You probably just find other folks to be annoying, to be unpredictable variables that ruin your perfect system. You’re like that, aren’t you? All anal and mathematical? Hey, do you want to come and join me on a trip to Las Vegas? I am sure you know how to count cards, like, that’s one of the diagnostic criteria for autism, right? I’ll be Tom Cruise, and you’ll be Dustin Hoffman. I’ll be the cool guy, and you’ll be my dumpy friend. Don’t complain about me pigeonholing you, treating you like some curiosity, and not a real person. You’re autistic, you’re just a machine, you don’t have any true feelings. I’m being nice to you, taking you out to count cards for me. If it weren’t for me, you’d be locked up in some sanatorium. It’s probably where you belong, come to think about it. That's where I'll park you when I don't need you.

Yes, I know the hypocrisy of me complaining about being dehumanised, when I just did the same thing with psychopaths. But the difference is that autistic people actually do feel the same kind of emotional depth as everyone else. Autistic people do have the capability to feel empathy, to care for others, even to be considerate and polite. Yes, it sucks struggling with certain social cues, sometimes it can make interactions quite painful, but I can assure you that we autistic people, we do care. We try our best. This is why so many of us experience such severe anxiety. I know it is why I’ve developed social anxiety, and agoraphobia. I don’t want to hurt others. I don’t want to come across like some social misfit. I want to belong. I want to share the love, to be a big and cuddly pacifist with a heart so big and able to give hugs that are even bigger. No, I don’t view pets as property. I view animals as remarkable creatures that can tell us many important things about what it means to be alive. Klara the cat is dead. And I am sad. I am scared of death.

I know it sounds silly, but I had my first big existential crisis around the age of five. That’s when I learned that, in fact, all people die. I knew that death was a thing, I can remember fully comprehending what death was, and that it was something that happened to people when they grew really old. But I thought, well… I had convinced myself that death was a choice. Like, I thought that you got to choose when you wanted to die. Or rather, I thought it was a bit like that snooze button on your alarm clock. I knew that we all had to go at some point, but we could delay it if we wanted to. I thought we could all just keep postponing death, until we felt as if we had finished living. The fact that really scared me, what actually traumatised me, was not that we were all going to die, but rather that we were all going to die whether or not we were prepared for it. The uncaring nature of death, that is what scared me. Ready or not, here it comes. It’s like a hawk, soaring above you, just waiting to strike when you are at your most feeble. The indifference of it all. The uncaring coldness, it beat me. Death is a psychopath. Death doesn’t have any feelings. It only occasionally feels hungry.

No surprise that as an adult I’ve come to entertain certain macabre interests. I like horror, particularly the creeping subsets of horror that work to make the reader or the viewer feel that certain sense of impending doom. Gothic horror, or cosmic horror à la Lovecraft. (I do like body horror, too, but that has more to do with me just being a weirdo pervert.) I have a tendency to stay up late at night, reading about atrocities, about real crime murder cases, or whatever else piques my particularly gruesome obsessions. I like art, but I particularly like art that’s unsettling. There’s some button inside of me that yearns to be pressed, and I can only reach that button by exposing myself to media that as a kid, would have profoundly messed me up. I suppose that is common. Ask any horror geek why they got into horror, and they’re likely to go into some long story about how they used to be this really neurotic kid, scared of everything, and how as they grew older they found that the horror genre became a go-to way for them to confront their fears and feel better about themselves and the world around them. I am not sure that you are what you eat, but I think that, to some extent, you become what you fear.

For Klara I made a little cross. Two twigs put together with some string. Yes, Klara probably wasn’t Christian. I’m not really Christian (though, like many Scandinavians, I will profess a certain kind of cultural Lutheranism.) But it was easier making a cross than preparing a big tombstone. I think ceremonies help. I’m not a superstitious fool, I do not believe that some creature will suffer in hell just ‘cause you bury them in an unmarked grave. The dead, they are dead. They don’t care if you take care of their graves, or even if you remember them. Only the living care about cemeteries. Cemeteries are places where the living gather. Graveyards aren’t for the dead. Klara is dead, and that is that. I didn’t really make the cross for her. I made it for myself. But maybe that’s not such a bad thing. At least I did it out of love. I do feel more emotions than happiness, anger, and hunger. Sometimes I feel affection for those that no longer can feel affection back.

I am reminded of some lyrics from a band that I like. A band that, for the most part, does some quite macabre music. I can’t exactly recommend them to any old fella that comes across this blog. But the lyrics also reminds me of when my grandmother died, and we all stood in a line to place flowers on her casket.

“Lies can often give you power. Like a coffin filled with flowers, gives life to the living, not the dead.”

[soyouareandrewdobson]

Alex ze Pirate “Mini Review” 1: About Male Abuse

Alex ze Pirate is in my opinion the WORST “comic” series Dobson has ever written up until this point (date for archives: June 2020). Sure, I agree with people that his “hot take” comics on Star Wars Fans, political issues and virtue signaling for the sake of making brownie points are worse overall cause they are uneducated propaganda that give insight in how much of a loathsome human being driven by spite he genuinely is, but Alex “offends” me as someone who enjoys fiction. It may not be the worst thing ever written, but it just does so many things wrong in terms of storywriting, storytelling, presentation and creating fictional characters, I can’t help but wonder what went wrong that Dobson even remotely thought this thing would be a “successful” comic series to establish him as a creator. Cause I can tell you, having read the likes of Don Rosa’s work on Disney, Hilda, Cleopatra in Space, Spirou, Asterix, One Piece (of which I will talk a lot in my next few posts) and many more, I can confirm by comparison that Dobson’s pirates as a published comic would have only one use on the public shelves: alternative for toilet paper during the COVID-19 epidemic

 Believe me, I would love to write an in depth analysis of everything wrong with Alex ze Pirate, from the lazy artwork up to even the publication history of this trainwrack. But doing so would take a lot of time and there is one individual part of this I think deserve at least extra attention. Something that in my opinion embodies quite well a lot of things I consider wrong with this comic. So before I am going over Alex in its entirety (and believe me, the day will come) let me just talk within the next few posts about one certain aspect and story of the comic, that genuinely got me to loath this comic to the core: Sam the Cabin Boy and “his” own individual story Dobson drew in three parts around 2010.  

For starters, lets talk who Sam is: Sam is one of the main characters in the comic and actually the first person who joined Alex and Peggy in the initial pages of Legends, the “original” form of Alex ze Pirate.

See, back in 2004, Dobson released Alex ze Pirate in form of a single comic volume called “Legends” which features Alex trying to recruit a crew. The thing is around 78 pages thick and based on what I saw pretty terribly paced. For comparison: When Luffy in One Piece got his crew together, he spend multiple volumes and at least three minor story arcs to get Zoro, Nami, Sanji and Usopp to join him. All while also giving us good insight into the kind of people his new crewmates were (especially Sanji’s and Nami’s backstory got to me), defeating the likes of Buggy and Captain Black, meeting Dracula Mihawk and defeating one of the biggest bastards Eichiro Oda ever created in form of Arlong. What is the story how Sam joins the crew? An orphanage organizes an auction and sells kids off. Which I assume was even illegal in pirate times, so kudos for already showing us how despicable the world of Alex ze Pirate is to begin with and how much it deserves to be nuked in some sort of alien invasion.

 Sam also doesn’t really get anything to do when he is introduced, just helping Alex escape on a small boat. Which is weird because he does not know her at all, she is just some stranger who bought him off and has no means to keep him in check, so why even bother following her and not let the mob get rid of Alex? 

Anyway, I wish I could tell more about Sam’s involvement in Legends, but I don’t have really more than some scans of it in the beginning and near the end. So I don’t know his involvement in the rest of the volume. I also can’t say how he plays out in volume two, because that does not exist at all. Cause for reasons I will never understand, Dobson just abandoned the idea of telling a “coherent” and ongoing story with Alex ze Pirate and instead went to his colored one page comics/strips with it, turning it into what some people called “Garfield with Pirates” (which I consider a genuine insult towards any newspaper comic out there, even something as Boondocks). And the first thing we see of Sam in “classic” Alex ze Pirate?

 The perverted dwarf of the crew showing of his shota underwear so that Alex and Sam stop bickering who is the cutest, leaving him embarrassed and humiliated.

 Which kinda sums up his role in the comic to a t. Cause this is what Sam is: He is the buttmonkey of the crew. And honestly, I would not have a total problem with Sam being a buttmonkey, if a) he wasn’t it all the time, b) he would actually do something to deserve any form of humiliation and c) if the other characters in this comic itself would not be some of the biggest assholes I have ever seen, who get away with abusing the poor lad.

 See, here is the problem: In a crew featuring a choleric homophobic soulless ginger

 A black rat person who wants to fuck the ginger even without her consent

 A furry abomination that has the same brain wavelengths as Chris Chan 

And a perverted dwarf who tries to impersonate Happosai from Ranma 1/2

 Sam is the only decent person in the entire crew. He works hard, he even questions the morality of his friends at times, he is honest, he is not perverted, almost good to the point of childish innocence and he has a very humble “goal” which is he wants to own his own piece of gold. Not even a big pile of treasure, just one single coin would be enough for him.

 So he is likeable and relatable. In fact, if anything goes by, he may have been one of the most popular ones in the comic. And yet he is the one who gets constantly abused by “fate” and his friends, because as Dobson would say it, he is supposed to be the buttmonkey. There is just one problem: People do not necessarily like buttmonkeys.

I can primarily speak only for myself here, but I hope what I have to say resonates with others too. See, I get it: A character who is the butt of a joke can be fun. Like Daffy in Duck Amuck. But there is a fine line where a character being humiliated for the sake of a joke is fun (and perhaps even deserved because of his own shortcomings or deeds/actions that make the humiliation sort of kharmic, like lets say Johnny Bravo) and a character being humiliated to the point it feels disproportional, unfunny and mean spirited if not outright sadistic, can be crossed. Take Meg Griffin from Family Guy for example whose only “purpose” for existing within the last 12+ years is to get shat on by her family and the writers. People have no idea for a plot with her, so what do they do? Have her father physically and emotionally abuse her, fart in her face for what is supposed to count as a joke and then add additional insult to it by acknowledging that they are only doing this, because they have no other idea for her and think abuse is fun. Let me just tell you from experience, it is not.

And that is essentially what Sam is: He is the Meg Griffin of Alex ze Pirate, used by his creator as the butt of very unfunny jokes, even if he does not deserve any of the things said or done to him. Want to see some examples?

 How about the description Dobson gives Sam within the introduction of one of his volumes, showing how little Dobson as the creator even cares for him.

Why is he called an unworthy “slob” if he is the only one who actually works? Shouldn’t a slob be someone like Dobson, who can’t even take care of himself anymore? Also the confirmation that he was kidnapped at the age of 16. And as we have no clarification how much time passed between Legends Vol. 1 and anything afterwards, that means that in a way Alex is a child abuser.

And now, here some examples by the rest of the cast. Like Uncle Peggy framing him for all sorts of his perverted actions and even trying to kill him for no apparent reason?

Alex trying to kill him with chicken pox…

…Destroying all his worldly posessions which is hilarious because he is a poor orphan…

…Essentially describing him as worthless because he was born with an Y-chromosome…

… doing the kind of thing Dobson claims women would never do to man, using their sex appeal to hurt them…

…forcing him to do some unnecessary and rather petty work for her in a physics defying manner (seriously, the way he holds the axe does not compute with how he swings it. Try it out yourself)

… stealing his food and just being a cruel sadistic cunt to him just because it is fun.

Which is “funny” in so far as that there are a few comics indicating she would jump his dick and ride it like a little pony if she could.

 By the way, Talus and Atea are not better. None of them calls Alex out on her bullshit on average, Atea uses Sam to trigger traps in one story arc…

And Talus, the closest to a “friend” he is supposed to have, once for no apparent reason made him dig through his litterbox

And don’t get me even started when the characters decide to gang up on Sam, to the point he gets sexually harassedor is called to be less worth as a human being than the dirt you find in your belly button

Fuck’s sake, even in fanart everyone gangs up on him, even the freaking big bad of the story everyone is supposed to hate or be afraid of

 Bottom line, Sam is an abuse victim played for laughs in this comics. And just to clarify, I do not think this was Dobson’s intention. But if the character is undeservingly the butt of jokes for the majority of over 120 strips, it turns nasty. The way Sam is treated, I just find disgusting and indictive of just how unlikable any other character in this comic is to the point I do not want to see this being turned into a proper “franchise”. And I assume others were disgusted by it too, cause Dobson eventually decided to make a story more or less addressing the treatment Sam receives, while also attempting to prove that deep down the assholes with starring roles in this trainwrack care for him. How did this play out? Well, I am going to talk about it, so likely not well. If you want to see the details, grab yourself some popcorn and take a toilet break before we tackle part 2 of this thing.

[alosyair]

Ray Route After Ending in an unnecessary soap opera: a full on essay

This is going to be messy and unorganized because I’m writing this in one go, and also I’ve just received the same goddamn bad ending the third time in a row, so I’m very tired and very upset, but I guess that’s a feeling a lot of relate to right now. First of all, I need to say that I love mystic messenger with all my might, and I’ve been waiting patiently for this update for the past 3 years, but this is also why I have a lot to say about it.

So without further ado,

So when the after ending came out, just a little more than a week ago, I was ecstatic. I saw that it had 3 days of game play instead of the usual story mode pile, and I felt like the luckiest person ever. It was frustrating and stressful since the first chatrooms, sure, but for three days straight, nevertheless, I was having the goddamn time of my life.

I think there is this aspect to this after ending: it’s entertaining as hell because it’s weirdly comedic for what the plot of it is centered around. It has answer options that would fit for a sitcom, and Rika alone acts like a full-on cartoon villain. It’s confusing and bewildering, but on my first try it really helps get rid off some of the stress.

The alternate title for this post was actually: Too Much Rika, and Too Little Saeyoung. Too little of the entirety of RFA, really. I guess, in a way, it makes sense: it’s Saeran’s ending, his story, and, well, the other characters never really features in the original routes (minus Seven) at all. But it was still, honestly, too much Rika for my sanity to handle.

I would like to take a moment to talk about V. Because goddamn do I feel bad for him and all of you who had to endure this mistreatment through painful groans. I’ve never thought about his character deeply enough to be able to go into detail here but let me tell you that the moment I saw him in the very first AE story mode, with this suspicious little smile and weird dialogue, the word that initially crossed my mind was: brainwashed. Not himself. No way that same Jihyun Kim who has spent so much time and put himself in danger to get a brainwashed boy out of Rika’s grasp would not only help her get hold of him again, but bluntly betray every single one of his friends.

I saw a very good post right before the update came out; sadly, I can’t find it right now to credit, but the point of it was basically that V could have reunited with Rika because, lacking the knowledge of the route action, he thought that MC fixed Saeran. It made sense to me. I don’t think him trying to help her again is completely out of blue— but everything else that he does in this update is. The unfortunate “Could you please hide who you are?” said to Saeran is among the worst, contextually, lines in the game, and I honestly can’t believe it would come from V.

I would also like to mention that being told “that’s all I can tell you for now” for the entirety of the first day again? Annoying as hell.

There were quite a few things I genuinely enjoyed about the after ending. Vanderwood, Driver Kim, Chairman Han. I think the tying up parallel was a good touch, albeit painful— but aside from a quick moment of empty eyes, it wasn’t exactly touched upon. Rika’s “We both struggle to control ourselves by depending on the person that’s right next to us” was also about the only thing she said in these three days that I didn’t want to punch her for, considering all the sacrifice talk, and the fact that Saeran is still healing. And this brings me to the main cause of my frustration: day 4′s 2am bad end just doesn’t go along with the plot.

So I got it on my first try. I thought going along with Saeran’s plan would turn out well for us — it felt wrong to keep disagreeing with him — and I was sure Jumin would let me go back. I got the bad end at the time when I was convinced I was past all the game branch danger, and I was frustrated, but I said: fine. There’s another route of action I can take. I asked him to reconsider on my second try— and I got the same ending again; I’m really not sure what went wrong that time, and, considering I got no different result tonight either, I’m not sure if my game is bugged, or if I’m really that unlucky. But let’s think about that ending for a second.

Rika finds out everyone is leaving her, again, and goes berserk— in character, sure, especially considering how the bad endings usually are. But Saeran? He lets her talk down on him and just stays. He’s hurt, stressed out, traumatized, and the past 3 days have been very, very hard— but game-wise, this behavior doesn’t make sense to me? Whichever one of my routes actually triggers the ending, the point of those is either “I believe in you, I want to spend as much time as I can with you, and I’m coming back for you” or “There’s no way I’ll ever agree to live without you” (which, really, doesn’t mean anything— I’d understand the impact of these options better if the game branch happened before the run; but then again, I have no idea what the good end is like after that). I just don’t see Saeran — strong, grown up Saeran, who’s already told Rika off before — so easily giving in to her talk, not after everything he’s been saying just a chatroom before.

To conclude this, I think stretching the update into days of game play wasn’t exactly bad— it’s still fun, and I appreciate Cheritz for creativity, for making the answer options more challenging, even, and I really missed the feeling of being on the edge of my seat waiting for a chatroom to open; but it’s not an after ending. The decision to give several different endings to something that is already considered an ending sounds ridiculous enough on its own, but the fact that this is what follows after we’ve already worked hard on the route to get our deserved good ending? It just wasn’t the right place to put this much drama in.

So.

Here’s the best line uttered in the entire AE:

[megalony]

Oops

This is a small murderer! Ben Hardy imagine I had an idea for, I hope you will all like it, feedback is always appreciated.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem​ @butlegendsneverdie​ @langdonzvoid​ @jennyggggrrr​ @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah​ @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6​ @rogertaylors-lipgloss​ @sj-thefan​ @omgitsearly​ @luckytrashgooprebel​ @scarsout​ @deaky-with-a-c​ @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac​ @vousmemanqueez​ @jonesyaddiction​ @ambi-and-sunflowers @milanosaurus @httpfandxms​ @saint-hardy​ @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls​ @mrsalwayswritex​ @rogerina-owns-me​ @peterquillzsblog​ @im-an-adult-ish​ @crazylittlethingg​

Murderer! Ben masterlist

Summary: Ben is taken to hospital just before he is meant to go to prison and (Y/n) is the doctor assigned to treat him. But it’s not as easy as she hopes when her patient scares her.

Enjoy.

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With each clicking of her shoes against the polished tiled floor, she could feel her heart adding an extra beat of blood around her body until she was certain that the organ was about ready to give out. She could feel her heartbeat becoming louder in her chest making every beat feel like it was pulsing through her ribcage and echoing against her lungs. A cold sweat started to rattle through her as she got closer to the door she didn't really know if she wanted to go through or not.

The moment she reached the door her body was subtally shaking which she was sure the security guards must have noticed when she took her ID badge from her waist to flash in front of their eyes. It was her golden ticket to get her inside a room that was limited to who could see what it held within.

Her imagination didn't do him justice.

When (Y/n) tried to remember the last time she had seen the man who was in this room, her memory was hazy. She remembered long ash blond curls that swept everywhere on his head. She pictured dark coloured eyes that were like voids with no emotion, she could see thin lips that stayed straight or held a frown but no smile. She could see hardened, cold features that were not flattering and a medium sized build. What she was faced with was much different to her memory that had been helped out with her imagination.

The man laid in the bed was taller than she remembered, to the point his head and feet were almost touching the ends of the bed. He had a very broad muscular frame that made him more of a threat to everyone who stepped into this room. His eyes were the deepest shade of sea-green that (Y/n) had ever seen, they were like gems, but his pupils were what scared her. The darkness was swirling inside of them and they held no sparkles from the light, they were filled with so many bad emotions that looked so inviting yet frightening that it made (Y/n) cower.

His lips were bright ruby red but they were crooked into the most sinister grin that (Y/n) had ever come across in her life. His eyes were slightly narrowed but they were solely stuck on her frame as her own eyes darted around him, forming a lasting image in her mind. His light blond hair was longer on top but shaved very short at the sides and it was folded back over his head so none of it would fall in front of his eyes and distort his vision of her.

What caught (Y/n)'s attention more than his features was his wrists and his ankles. They were handcuffed to the plastic frame of the bed, locking him in a sitting position so he didn't hold the right to raise his hands an inch above the bed, nor could be kick his feet out at anyone. Those restraints caught (Y/n)'s eye for the specific reason that she didn't trust them. This man had muscle, he clearly held strength and his eyes showed he was cunning, just how long were those shackles going to restrain him before he managed to break free?

"Here to help me, sweetheart?" His voice was low and gravelly like his words were rubbing against sandpaper, but his pet name that she remembered so vividly made her cringe.

"Only to make you better, Mr Hardy." (Y/n) kept her voice level and looked down at her notes as she spoke like she thought looking him in the eyes would put her under a trance. She was a doctor, all she was here to do was to find out what was causing his health to decline and then he would be on his way to prison just like he was supposed to be.

Ben was in the hospital because he had a seizure and crippling pains a day before he was supposed to be taken to prison. A lot of doctors here thought he was just playing things up so he could try his luck at escaping but (Y/n) didn't think so. She vaguely knew him and what she remembered about Ben was how he liked to work. He wouldn't want to escape by faking a seizure and he wouldn't want to go to hospital for unnecessary tests to try and make his escape.

He would want to bribe or kill the guard, he would want to break out on his own in the dead of night and get ahead of the game. He would want people to marvel at his twisted mind and his quick getaways.

"Better how? Are you going to try and see if there's something making me ill, or are you going to try and make me better in my head?" When he spoke he flashed his teeth and the look reminded (Y/n) of a shark or a predator eyeing up its prey. He looked ready to devour her or frighten her to the point she either left or let him go free.

(Y/n) knew who Ben was, but the man laying in front of her now was different to the one she had known a few years ago. The man she remembered hadn't been a killer, but he had definitely been heading in that direction. She had read more about him in the news, he seemed to be rather good at killing people considering how long it had taken the police to even get one small crime connected to him with enough evidence to charge him and send him to prison.

He had been killing people and doing dodgy dealings for at least five years with no consequence because he knew how to evade the police and rid himself of any evidence. He did intrigue her, a lot, but she wasn't a psychiatrist. (Y/n) couldn't delve into his mind and find out what made him this way, she would get trapped and never be able to find her way out.

But that seemed to be what Ben wanted.

He loved the thought of people trying to get into his head because he had the ability to trap them without giving them the answers they were looking for. He didn't think there was any reason he was like this, he had a good upbringing, a loving family, a good education. No traumas or accidents happened to him to make him suddenly take to murder, he wasn't damaged or broken or unhinged, this was just how he was and what he liked to do.

"I'm just here to find out what's causing your health problems, nothing more." When (Y/n) lifted her eyes from the notes on Ben's case, she found he was still grinning at her like the Cheshire cat and it was beginning to feel unsettling. No one looked at her the way he was looking at her now, it was like he knew something about her and he was goading her and holding the information over her head like bait. Willing her to take it.

"And you can do that with me cuffed to the bed, or is that how you like all your patients?" Ben tilted his head up to look at (Y/n) when she dared to move closer until she was standing beside the bed instead of at the foot of it. Her eyes locked with his own for a brief moment but she didn't respond, he was only trying to get a rise out of her. "Come on doll, undo them for me. Where am I going to go with ten guards on this floor? I don't wanna run away from a pretty face either."

(Y/n) pursed her lips as she tilted her head to the side, she wasn't stupid and she wasn't born yesterday. Whether Ben really just wanted to sit without being shackled at the joints or whether he wanted to escape made no difference to (Y/n). She didn't have the keys to unlock the cuffs and she wouldn't do that anyway. They didn't pose a problem unless they had to do an MRI but even then, the hospital had other ways of restraining him so that he didn't try and make a break for it.

"I'd love to, but I don't have the keys."

Grabbing a small light from her pocket, (Y/n) cautiously rested her hand on Ben's temple and tilted his head back. Holding his eyelid open with her thumb as she used her other hand to shine the light over his pupils to see if they were constricting quickly or not.

"Any headaches or pains anywhere?"

"Why do you think the lights are turned off?" Ben watched with a smile as (Y/n) seemed to blink like she was clearing her mind of fog, turning her head to look up at the lights before looking around the room to find that it was significantly darker than the corridor. The natural light from the window provided more than enough lighting to see but it wasn't nearly as bright as what the room would be if basked in the illuminated lights.

"I'll schedule an MRI, see if there's anything wrong with your head." (Y/n) held onto the plastic frame of the bed as she looked at Ben who was still smiling which was beginning to make her feel unsettled. There was no reason for him to be grinning, there was something wrong with him and he was going to prison when they treated whatever was wrong, he had no reason to smile.

"That's what they all say... your little bodyguards will have to uncuff me for that. We can finally have some fun."

Ben's words sent shivers running down (Y/n)'s spine and made her stomach churn like she was going to be sick. His tone showed he wasn't messing around or just blabbering, he was thinking about this and he was excited at the prospect of finding a chance to escape. Restraints like buckles around his body would be a bit easier to get out of than handcuffs. But when he spoke about having fun, his eyes glimmered for the first time and showed sparkles without any light in the room.

He was making her a promise.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Are you scared?" The question came with a tone of sincerity and worry but the catfish grin that it was spoken through said otherwise. The way those words made his cheeks puff up near his eyes that were narrowing and inquisitive made shivers run down (Y/n)'s spine when she was already trying so hard not to shake from fear.

"Why would I be scared?" (Y/n) tipped her head to the side as she responded to his rather sudden question that seemingly came out of nowhere. (Y/n) was trying very hard to seem and act normal, she didn't want Ben to think she feared him but she didn't want to be cold towards him either. He was her patient and it was better to keep him talking and stay on his good side rather than dare to see what the bad side looked like.

"Because the artery in your neck is pulsing faster than normal... you keep looking at the straps which we both know aren't such a good restraint for me."

Ben's eyes were solely focused on the artery he could clearly see pushing up beneath the surface at such a rapid pace that it looked like it was going to burst. It implied that (Y/n)'s heartbeat was increasing and he could see how hard she was trying to keep her breathing normal. He couldn't have cuffs on because the MRI machine worked with magnets, but the straps binding him down were worn and looked like Velcro that he would be able to tear free from without breaking into a sweat. They both knew that Ben was devious and dangerous and (Y/n) didn't want to see him get free or know what he would do to break free.

"We both know if you manage to get up you're hardly going anywhere with a gown that barely covers your ass and no boxers on underneath. Besides, with no weapon, how do you expect to get out of this room?" (Y/n) adjusted the brace beneath Ben's head so it was fixed around his neck and head to give support whilst he would be in the machine for about forty five minutes.

Ben looked surprised at her answer but his smile didn't slip from his features because she had given him something to think about. He was wearing a gown that tied at the back and he didn't have underwear on, he was hardly going to be able to get out of the hospital wearing that. Nor did he have weapons to get himself out of this room, let alone the hospital. Security had guns and tasers and there was a lot of security who could pin him down and a doctor could sedate him. Ben was outnumbered here.

"Try not to move."

(Y/n) didn't like the wicked grin Ben wore when (Y/n) pressed the button that moved him into the MRI machine. He looked like he was one step ahead of her and always would be.

Half an hour had passed but (Y/n) felt like she was going to be sick because he just would not stop. His lips kept moving and words and phrases kept passing from them but they were rattling around in her mind and rubbing (Y/n) up the wrong way. Worse still, Ben knew what he was doing. The more he talked about what he did, the more (Y/n) felt like she could picture clearly what he had done and who he was. She felt sick when he described how he killed people and how he made sure no one found out. She felt shivers running up and down her nerves when he kept calling out to her. Random nicknames drawled sweetly or seductively or creepily from his lips to try and gain her attention or some sort of rise from (Y/n).

But even though Ben couldn't see her and she was staying deadly silent, Ben knew he was having a bad effect on her and it was making him carry on.

Lifting her head from where it was lowered down to look at the screen, (Y/n) felt a wave of both panic and relief flowing through her when the voice suddenly stopped. Ben was no longer trying to call out to her and ask if she was still there or rambling on to her about whatever dreadful thing spilled into his rotten mind.

Deciding that the scan was done now since it was showing nothing irregular, (Y/n) got up from her chair and entered the MRI room in front of her, Ben's name drawling quietly from her lips but he didn't respond.

Pushing the button, (Y/n) looked at Ben with tired eyes but he still had that same shit-eating grin on his face that she wished to become tired of seeing. She went to say something, but before any words could pass through her lips, her body jolted and her heart stopped in her chest when his hand suddenly latched around her wrist with a viper's grip. His fingers felt like sharp teeth digging into her skin and he held so much force because when he pulled her closer to the point (Y/n) almost fell on top of him, it didn't seem to take any energy from him at all.

"Ben, let go." (Y/n) spoke in a stern tone as her other hand quickly grabbed his own to try and release herself from his grip but it wasn't working. He had more strength than she did, she could already feel the bruises beginning to form on her skin.

"Come on doll, be a good girl and let me out, you know you want to."

(Y/n) shook her head and tried again to pull away but she stopped and her eyes snapped closed when Ben leaned his head closer to her to the point she could feel his breath on her neck. She couldn't let him free from his restraints, he could use her as a hostage to try and get out or he could kill people to get himself free. He was here for a reason and he was bound for a reason, (Y/n) couldn't let him out just because he asked or because he was trying to seduce her.

"I can't, now let go before I call security."

Fear rushed through (Y/n)'s veins along with adrenaline, but she wasn't fearing what Ben was doing or what he was capable of, she was afraid what effect he was having on her because her voice was lost. She couldn't find her voice to call out to the security men that were only on the other side of the door. She stayed deadly quiet when she felt Ben's grip on her wrist tightening and his teeth grazing against her neck.

The moment his mouth left her neck and she could pull back and straighten up, (Y/n) felt like she was going to faint and the urge to pass out only increased when all the blood drained from her head. But her moment of relief lasted two seconds before she looked down at Ben's wrist agonisingly slowly and a whimper left her lips when she realised his hands were now free from the restraints.

Every part of her froze and turned stiff as she watched him sit up with a shit-eating grin on his lips and the void in his eyes that drew her in until she became lost. When his eyes darted down to look at the restraints, he rose a brow and tipped his head to the side in an almost innocent manner.

"Oops."

[hopevalley]

I've actually enjoyed watching new episodes of the show for the first time in a LONG time! I thought Lucas being frustrated w/ Elizabeth was contrived and misplaced. Was his mom like "me & your father are separated btw i told elizabeth before you?" The bit felt off. But hey, these past three episodes have been fun & much-better written than anything last season. How much of this season's improvement over recent prior ones do you think is due to the season having a new showrunner?

As to Lucas and Elizabeth, I feel this is an issue with shows in general of this runtime and episode length. I like to compare WCtH with Road to Avonlea because both shows had short seasons and 40ish minute long episodes, were family shows, and featured ensemble casts. Avonlea had a similar issue with pacing in the occasional episode. I know I like to nitpick WCtH a lot about its writing, and I never shy from honest critique, but I really do think the hiccup with Lucas and Elizabeth in Ep3 was just a product of needing a few more minutes of screentime—preferably the start of Helen telling Lucas about the situation with his father, since it did feel like him knowing everything came out of almost nowhere. We knew Helen would have to talk to him, but we never really saw her resolve to do so, and I think we earned the emotional payoff of the truth coming out. (As an aside, Helen should have apologized for telling Lucas that Elizabeth knew as well as putting her in a position where she had to keep a secret from someone she cared about. Elizabeth being put in a bad position was awful enough, but then she went and told Lucas that Elizabeth was aware the whole time? Yiiiikesssss...)

I’m pretty confident that Helen told Lucas something like: “I have to tell you something important... Your father...left me...a few weeks ago. I need to apologize for keeping it from you but I didn’t know how to bring it up...” and then probably responded to something Lucas said with a comment about how she’d talked to Elizabeth about it, or Elizabeth suggested she be honest about the situation because Lucas would find out eventually and it would be better if it came directly from her. I could definitely see Helen accidentally being too honest in a situation where she’s nervous about admitting the truth to her own son. She’s probably extremely embarrassed and ashamed, and the episode doesn’t really go into how Helen feels about it. They just jump into talk about love and how it needs to be nurtured and nobody ever asks Helen if she actually loved/loves her husband, let alone if he was a good man/husband to her. 

Not getting a scene where Helen confesses the truth weakens the entire plotline. I’m hoping they’ll just keep improving on this specific aspect of the show, and consider getting rid of unnecessary scenes or entire unnecessary storylines in favor of stronger, more complete stories.

I know their hesitation is based on the idea that not everyone cares about (for example) Lucas, so focusing really hard on Lucas’s relationship with his mother might feel Bad, but the entire “chair” plotline with Rosemary and Lee was unnecessary, as were the longer Florence and Ned scenes. Don’t get me wrong—I enjoyed them! But if they cut those out, or mostly cut them, then there would have been enough screentime for a full scene showing Helen telling Lucas about the truth.

And Chris McNally is clearly an actor who can handle an emotional scene like that, so it would have turned out well, and been well-received by the fans...even the ones who aren’t rooting for Lucas. Because what people who watch this show want to see is...depth, I think. So many relationships feel tacked on or fake. I’ve seen improvement this season, but they could definitely do more to bolster the “community” feel of the show.

--

As to the quality of the season so far...

@trash-god​ and I were chatting earlier this week about how wild it is that we’re both, like, actively looking forward to the next episode regularly. Sure, it’s still pretty early in the season, but we’re 25% of the way through. If the writing stays this consistently decent I think we’ll have the best season in a long time on our hands!

It’s funny because if you lurk on the WCTH subreddit, you’ll see most of the fans there are bored of this season, but I disagree with them in a bit way; this season is DEFINITELY better-written and smoother. As to where to place the credit, I think it’s worth considering the last few seasons and what the writers/writing teams have struggled with.

Season 4: They knew something was going to happen with their lead man so they tried introducing other things and in many ways had success. There were some REALLY GOOD scenes in S4, but there were also scenes or arcs that had a lot of potential that just fell flat. For example, they had that plot where Frank and Abigail got annoyed with each other over the fact that he’s kind of still living (mentally) as a carefree bachelor, and even though it wasn’t as thorough as it should have been, it was a pretty good and realistic storyline. But then later in the season, they introduced Carson, and Frank is suspicious of him for almost no reason (or at least, no solid reason), and then actively is...like a BAD PERSON for NO REASON. Two completely different plots, one was good and felt natural, and the other was awful and cringey. We also have the AJ plotline in S4. It started out super good because it was one of those plots that was genuinely built up to over the course of several episodes. We find out the accountant that was going to testify has withdrawn their statement, then we find out they’ve disappeared and we have a name. Bill discusses it with Abigail and Frank both, multiple times. He thinks it’s a payoff and he’s determined to prove it so he starts poking around. Eventually he gets a lead and follows it, and it’s revealed that AJ is a woman. Bill is annoying. AJ is a liar. I think conceptually this is one of the more interesting plots they’ve cobbled together, but in execution it was lacking toward the end of the story. Bill spent two episodes fighting AJ’s attitude and in the end he just lets her go with a smile? That isn’t like Bill at all. There’s a scene or two missing to make that reaction make sense. They don’t interact enough to give us the idea that Bill *understands* her, let alone would be okay with her literally breaking out of his jail ON HIS WATCH.

Season 5: They had to write Jack out of the story and had to rush a wedding in to “appease” the fans. They also had to write Shane, Philip, Frank, and Dottie off the show in this season (Dottie because the actress deals with a chronic illness and can no longer do acting work—I want to say she has Lyme’s). So they cobble this like, awkward storyline to write Frank out that doesn’t really make a lot of sense. They put this dramatic story together for Philip (when him just moving away would have been better/more interesting), and they try to bring AJ back for another 2-part episode, which sounded fun until we actually had to watch the episodes. It was at this point that I thought, “The people writing this show...think they’re writing a movie script.” It’s not that I think AJ isn’t pushy or emotionally blunt, but it definitely came across in those episodes that they wrote her that way specifically because the plot wouldn’t work out if she wasn’t. She does unreasonable things. For some reason Bill still has feelings even though she’s done nothing to earn them. (And vice-versa; he’s just so mean to her...why would she be interested?) Everyone was like :O when the AJ episodes weren’t very well-received. But like, I didn’t want AJ to come back for a huge dramatic rattlesnake bite scene. I wanted her back to see her emotional struggle with facing prison. I wanted to really see where they’d go with her seeing Henry Gowen. She says she wants to start over in Hope Valley after prison, but like...WHY? The only people who are nice to her are Dottie and Abigail! And then after this super dramatic poorly written set of scenes that pretty much ensured AJ would never be seen on the show again (because her presence was actively mocked by a lot of fans) they actually kill off Jack and try to have a deeply emotional and thoughtful episode.

The worst part is that...the post-death episode was good. The actors were great. Then you look back at the dramatic rattlesnake stuff and you’re just like, “What went wrong here?”

Season 6: They decided they were going to introduce a love triangle, so they start doing that, but then Abigail’s character AS WELL AS CODY’S CHARACTER has to be cut from the show, so they edit those out. I still think doing this was the right thing—Abigail as a character was literally UNBEARABLE throughout most of S5—but I also can’t deny that it probably brought the cohesiveness and overall quality of the season down by a bit, particularly with Abigail acting as a buffer between Nathan/Lucas and Elizabeth. I have no way of knowing if they edited other characters into those roles (it’s possible Bill became a buffer between Nathan and Elizabeth, for example), but the editing still gave us some scenes that just didn’t...quite work, like the one where Elizabeth comforts Henry, or when Lee becomes Bill’s confidant regarding the position of judge being offered to him.

Season 7: In their attempt to make Lucas seem “mysterious” they accidentally made him come off almost creepy. More than once. They had some good ideas in this season, but the writing felt a bit choppy and isolated from episode to episode. Of course Nathan’s father was innocent. Of course it was resolved in five minutes. You could see they were trying REALLY hard for cohesiveness at certain points (Elizabeth tried talking to Henry about his attitude; Jesse mentioned Frank; Dottie was mentioned), but each episode felt very isolated from the others, almost as if most of them were written completely separately from the rest.

And you’ll notice in S4, 5, and 6, we kind of have a similar problem, where some plots feel like they were written or inserted into the story independent of the other plotlines. Frank breaking into Carson’s room at the saloon to snoop through his stuff was one of the worst things in the season (literally cringey—and not in that “character is doing something in character that is hard to watch” way, but rather, “this character would literally never do that” way). The AJ storyline in S5 felt like the person who wrote it watched AJ & Bill’s interactions in S4 and absorbed ONLY the fact that they bickered a bit (and then didn’t know how to write that dynamic in a pleasing way). Writing Abigail out of the show was for the best, but it forced cracks in the plotlines that weren’t necessarily filled, as well as gave us interactions that didn’t feel quite right.

And I think S7 was trying to get on the right track, but wrote episodes in a very disjointed, haphazard kind of manner. There were good things about it, yes, but there were also some very...bad things. 

And overall the problem almost universally was that it felt like some of the episodes/interactions were written as if they were part of a movie, as part of a one time deal, instead of something that would need to be carried forward. If you go back and look over some plotlines you can start to see where the writers...didn’t know how to write fanfiction. S5 AJ is not the same character as S4 AJ. She doesn’t feel the same. She’s not written with S4 AJ in mind. She’s not a natural version of the character that exists a year later in the storyline...and then she was given a storyline that they had to force the character to fit, instead of tailoring a storyline to match the character. And they continued this trend...over...and over...and over...and over.

And now, finally, it feels that they may actually have a head writer who knows how to write television, who knows that in order to write a successful television series, you have to go back and watch the early episodes. You have to see how the characters have evolved. You have to consider how they’ve gotten to where they are, and where they will LOGICALLY go from here based on things that happen to or around them.

I don’t want to state this as Fact too early, but I definitely think it’s a factor. We’ll see how the rest of the season plays out, but I hope the quality continues to be as good as it is.

[adhd-demetri]

First things first, love the new url, it's super you. Second are you working on the story for your oc? I actually want to read more on it -Jane

Yep and after thinking about it, if you have a twilight oc, message me and I'll add them into the story :) but this is it so far. Consider this a free sample

~Breaking news~

Things are getting pretty wild in ohio near cowan lake campgrounds. Two coyotes and wolf have been spotted in the area roaming around together wrecking havoc and panic. Biologists are baffled by the sudden appearance of a wolf in ohio with what is supposed to be their enemy.

No one knows where the trio came from but police and wildlife officials are urging people to haze them away and for parents of pets and children alike to keep a sharp eye on them.

Witnesses say they have been seen near dumpsters and trash cans tearing open bags of uneaten food-

-Click-

Demi turned off his phone as he took a bite out of a sub he and his mate had dug out of the dumpster. He snickered at the thought of him, his little brother and his mate 'wrecking havoc' over simply digging in dumpsters for goodies people through out. Like phone chargers, towels, clothing, sleeping bags and even small one person tents with easy fixes.

People are so wasteful. Throwing away perfectly good treasures. Oh well, they were now theirs.

Casper walked up behind him and threw down a tent that he just patched up. It was a cheap green and beige 4 person tent that had a hole in the roof of it. It wasn't nothing special truthfully.

"What do you think? Nice patch work right?" He said looking very proud of his work. Demi turned around and ran his fingers over the the patch, inspecting the delicate stitching and the vinyl that protected them from wear-and-tear.

"Looks good Cas, can't imagine why someone would get rid of this for a easy fix!" He shrugged, oh well. It now belongs to his younger brother.

As he got up from the forest floor, he dusted off the leaves and dirt that clung to the back of his pants. Grabbing the tent, he headed to Caspers car that was parked by an abandoned entrance way that led to overgrown trails leading to their little hideout.

"Hey alex. Check it out, Cas fixed you a tent. Now you can go camping with us instead of sleeping in the car." He said giving his 10 year old little brother the now fixed up tent.

Alex was sitting in the back playing mario kart tour on his phone. He glanced down quickly and laid his phone down. He picked up the tent bag and looked at its contents. His baby blue eyes started to widen with excitement.

"Th-this is for me? My own tent? Wow this is so cool!" The little blond was practically jumping up and down in his spot with pure joy and happiness radiating off of him. He was so happy to have his own tent finally.

"Yup, tonight Cas and I can teach you how to put it up and when we leave, take it down. Sound good?"

"Yes! Thank you thank you thank you!!!!" He suddenly slammed into Demi with a tight hug. Demi patted his head and pulled the excited child off of himself.

Alex went back to playing his game. Demi went back and sat on the ground to join Casper in the small clearing while he was redoing the zipper work on one of the sleeping bags. Casper nearly had this one finished up and planned on giving it to Alex since it had Kion and other lion guard characters on it. Casper concentrated as he worked on stitching the zipper to the sleeping bag.

"Soooo Alex loved his tent. Thank you for fixing it up for him."

"No problem. Seemed better than sitting in the car ya know? Oh hey look I finally got it stitched. You know these zippers are so hard to fix now a days." He said zipping up the bag and admiring his work.

He looked up and noticed the sun was starting to paint the sky in a beautiful array of oranges and pinks mixed with some purples and blues. The air felt slightly cooler than it did before.

Demi rolled his eyes and simply smiled.

He knew it was time to get going and head back to the campgrounds.

Casper followed right behind him and started up his car. They headed back to Cowan Lake campgrounds tenting area.

"Hey alex! Buckle up bud!" He yelled getting back up and getting into the car to leave.

The ride there was quite relaxing as the trio was simply jamming out to some music on their way to the campgrounds. They didn't have a care in the world it seemed.

They finally made it back to their spot. Alex quickly hopped out along with his tent and claimed a spot right next to where Demi and Casper's tent was. He started to pull everything out of the make shift bag that he had stuffed it in previously.

Demi quickly got out and ran to him. He didnt want Alex to lose anything.

"Hey bud slow down, We still got to help you put it up. Cas you want to get the fire going? We can roast some shmellows and some hot dogs. I'm starved!" Demi quickly started unraveling the tent and pulling out the poles, laying them nice and neat.

While they did that, Casper started up the fire. It roared to life after a few moments of poking and prodding it with fiery paper. He grabbed all the goodies, the roasting sticks and a mini table from his car.

The sun sunk down below the trees as the beauty of the moon rose to the sky. She bathed the area in a soft ghostly white glow.

Meanwhile Alex and Demi finally got his tent all nice and set up. It looked a little worn down but it was definitely still usuable.

"Hey who wants shmellows? We got some dogs that need roasting too!" Cas called out to Demi and Alex. He laid out the marshmallows and chocolate along side the hotdogs, gram crackers and bread. Alex and Demi joined him by the cozy fire grabbing a few bits of food and wolfing them down like ravenous animals.

Demi shushed him real quick. He didn't want to disturb others and cause any unnecessary commotion. The last time that happened didn't end well .... for the other person that is.

Around them other campfires crackled and popped while kids and couples alike told stories and roasted foods. Some saying goodnight while others stayed out.

"So when the fire goes out, do you two want to go on a run? I'm pretty sure that stupid Cullen family is out hunting and I do NOT want him near our area." Demi asked Casper and Alex.

Casper thought about it for a moment and mouthed I dont care while shoving a hotdog in his mouth. Alex simply shook his head yes as he ate a burnt gooey marshmallow.

"Yeah it's a full moon tonight! And I haven't ran with you guys in forever!" Alex shouted a tad bit to loud grabbing the attention of a few nearby campers.

"Let's wait till 10. Most of the other campers will be asleep and in their tents by then. It would be the perfect time to slip out." Demi said leaning into his mate's embrace.

No one screams at his little brother for being excited.

"Yeah, it has been awhile hasn't it? It's about time we run and get a good idea of how big our territory is too if this is our permanent home." Casper said.

Demi nodded in agreement as he got up. He went to his and Casper's tent and stripped down to just his incredibly warm out pants. He didn't care if these pants got destroyed while shifting. They've been through so much and it was time to finally to get rid of them.

Casper got up from his spot and joined Demi in the tent. He wrapped his arms around Demi's midsection, pulling him into a warm hug.

"So when you want to head out love?" He whispered.

They both sat down on their makeshift bed. Minutes passed as they simply stayed still together.

A sense of euphoria enveloped him. What a lovely feeling it was.

He got up quickly, peeking out of the tent entrance way.

Neither wanted this moment to end.

His little brother crossed his mind. He left him out there by the fire by himself!

Hide and seek

Thankfully the fire was dying since no one was paying it any attention.

His brother was lying down on the grass. His headphones over his head and his hand tracing the stars as he sang a familiar song quietly. His head bobbing in sync to the beat.

Reason and rhyme

Grand and glorious

Living the dream

yours and mine

~ Euphoria!

As he sand the last part, his arm fell to his side. A smile was spreading across his face as he lost himself in his own little world of euphoria.

Demi felt his body shift quickly. Thankfully his pants were worn enough to not make hardly any noise. Brown, orange and white fur littered from his skin quickly.

The feeling of happiness and joy could be felt radiating from him once again.

Demi sighed to himself, grateful his brother was ok.

"Everything alright love?"

"Yeah, just got worried about Alex but he's fine. He's in his own little world right now."

"I can tell. I can feel it from here."

Demi went back and sat down. He searched for his phone to check the time.

9:57 PM

All of the other campers were asleep by now. The only ones awake at this point was the trio.

Casper's body morphed as well. Silvery gray fur with white swirls that resembled a starry galaxy painted his skin. His body shifted and the shorts he had were ripped quickly.

And just like that, a coyote that could blend in with the autumn themed environment stood before Casper.

The air swirled around Demi. With it, The smell of wet leaves and smoke with sugary delights. Demi inhaled the savory scents before making his way to the child that was still relaxed on the grass.

And just like that, a wolf stood above Demi in the 10 person tent.

Giving his mate a quick nuzzle, Demi slowly crept outside the tent. He didn't want to wake anyone or draw attention to himself. He still had to get Alex into their tent.

Demi nudges Alex with his snoot, urging him to get up. Alex realised it was time and ran to his brother's tent as there would be no room to shift in his own.

Soon after a small blondish white coyote pup came out. His ears and tail were probably the most unique feature both the wolf and coyote have ever seen.

Casper ran out of tent to give Alex some privacy.

'So Cas, did you hear what they said about us on the news? They think we are trouble makers!

Just were the ears attach to the head, Alex's fur was a shiny metallic gold color. His tail was the same way.

He jumped up into the air and started to run a tad bit. The excitment seemed to rub off on Demi. He too started to jump around with his little brother. Together their energy seemed to wile them up even more.

With a burst of energy, the trio took off onto the road. Demi and Alex yipped along the way down the road. Casper's tongue lulled out of his mouth while he ran.

Alex on the other paw didn't want to go digging like his older brother. He was more interested in the playground that was close by and the toys that had been abandoned there as well.

Ha! Can you believe that? Let's give them real trouble!'

Cas nodded in response. He started to slow down as they approached the dumpsters. The overwhelming smell of garbage that has been marinating all day under a scorching hot sun wafted around the trio.

Demi charged ahead of them. He loved digging in the trash, all kinds of goodies people would throw out for no reason was calling his name!

He chased after his brother though.

[travllingbunny]

The 100: 7x09 The Flock

And finally, the end of my and @jeanie205‘s little rewatch, and the last review I still have to post before the show’s return. And for once, I can write a shorter review than usual, because this episode isn’t all that interesting. It’s my least favorite episode at least since mid-season 5.

I have liked season 7 more than most people seem to - even though I miss Bellamy and want to see more focus on Clarke, and I’ve mostly been patient about waiting for the story to really kick into gear. I understand that BTS issues have affected the season and caused a lot of rewrites, that the first half of the season was mostly setup or it focused on developing stories for other characters (and I have enjoyed many of them, especially for Octavia, Murphy, Emori, Diyoza and Indra).

But the pacing hasn’t been the greatest, and that particularly became obvious with this episode. There was no reason to stall the action and go back and waste this entire episode on flashbacks to the 3 months that Echo, Hope, Octavia and Diyoza spent training to become Disciples. Some of this could have been included in 7x07, and this episode could have featured maybe 5-10 minutes of flashbacks and then returned to the present day action, instead of leaving Clarke, Raven, Miller, Jordan and Niylah in that same Stone Room where they have been for 3 (soon to be 4) episodes, and completely leaving them out of this episode.

I’m not even speaking from the perspective of a Clarke fan here - I enjoyed the Skyring storyline in 7x02 and 7x04. But these extended flashbacks strike me as unnecessary and far more predictable than the writers seemed to think. It’s not like we needed to see why they agreed to join the Disciples - we know it, they had no choice and that was the best solution at the moment. Clarke may be wondering whose side they are on and if they have been brainwashed, but we know better. It was never a mystery for the viewers. And this episode’s Bardo scenes are no “1984″, we aren’t wondering “oh no, are they really brainwashed?” There is little ambiguity - except maybe for Echo, the only one we could maybe wonder about “is she really going to be loyal to the Disciples now?” - but even that isn’t because she seems to have drunk the Kool-Aid, but because she may just think there isn’t anything better to do and no one else to follow. And that is probably not what’s going on, though it would probably be more interesting than the more probable and predictable plot about Echo pretending to be loyal to the Disciples while planning revenge on them.

Maybe it would be different if this episode had the Disciples deliver some important new info that would convince both the characters and the viewers that the “last war” is really something worth fighting. But the show keeps withholding information about what these concepts are - who is the Last War to be fought against? What is transcendence? And no one seems to ask about it - or they do, but off-screen.

In the meantime, the Sanctum storyline reached its climax - Sheidheda revealing himself, killing a bunch of people and staking his claim to the throne, so to speak - but it’s a climax that pretty much everyone has been expecting since Sheidheda took over Russell’s body in the season premiere. What’s worse is that this was made to happen through an incredibly OOC action by Indra. And I don’t think many will miss the Faithful - an incredibly annoying bunch of minor characters. (They are, of course, some of the titular “flock”, together with the Disciples. We get it! It’s all about blind faith and worshiping false gods! The entire season has been hammering it home!)

The episode started well, with Anders taking HEDO to the surface of Bardo to show them the crystallized forms of the extinct Bardoans. I guess the giant aliens story was true after all. This made Octavia realize “Gabriel saved us” (so I guess they won’t be too angry at him when they see him again, which they haven’t so far), It was supposed to show what kind of threat the humans are facing in the last war. Except that was all the info we got on that subject. No one asked: Who is the enemy? Where are they? When will they attack? Why do you need the Key to fight that war? Or, if they did, it was off-screen. (Surely they would have asked some questions during those 3 months?)

Instead, we get to hear more details about the Bardo society. They grow babies artificially, like Primes did with the other people in Sanctum. Not a huge surprise. They don’t want any family relationships, just like they don’t want any friendships or romantic relationships, no individual ties, except the worship of the Shepherd. We already knew that. We get it, they are ultra-collectivist. They want to get rid of emotions, etc.

We don’t know for sure how they feel about sex (if it is fully forbidden, or if it’s allowed if it’s supervised and people get approved sex partners they exchange on a regular basis, as in some dystopias) - so I’m not sure how they (would) feel about Octavia and Levitt getting it on, which was one of the few new developments in this episode (also easily predictable, especially after their tender face touching scene in 7x06). Echo mentions at one point that the Disciples are always watching them - so does that mean Anders also watched Octavia and Levitt having sex? Surely Anders must be aware of their relationship, or at least that Levitt is really into Octavia? I’ve always been open about my lack of enthusiasm for this romance, but I generally support the idea of Octavia getting a chance to enjoy herself with a nice hot guy who’s helpful. 

But Anders even letting Levitt be involved in their training and testing, without controlling him, makes no sense, unless Anders is incredibly stupid. This has been my problem with this storyline all along. I’m never sure if Anders is really that stupid to trust Levitt, or if he has some kind of smart plan and has been using Levitt on purpose to get Octavia to join the Disciples. There has been speculation about whether Levitt himself is manipulating Octavia, and/or she is manipulating him - and a part of me would want some of that to be true: this relationship and this entire plot would be a lot more interesting if they were manipulating each other (while also liking each other), but I don’t think that’s the case. Levitt is probably exactly what he seems to be, and I don’t think the writing here is that smart. But I can at least hope that Anders is not a total idiot and that he’s figured out Levitt is helping Octavia, but decided to use him anyway. 

Now, I did have a tiny flicker of hope that Levitt may be intended to be seen as a more ambiguous figure - when he was rating HEDO for “participation, stamina, strength and speed” (he rated Hope 1 for participation) - and Diyoza was suspicious of him and asked him: "You always have so many jobs?"

Another “are the Disciples really that stupid?” moment was when Levitt randomly told HEDO that they keep samples of the same Gem 9 that killed the native Bardoans, and that could kill everyone on Bardo. Why the heck would they be keeping it, let alone telling people about it? Does Levitt want HEDO to kill everyone on Bardo? I hope this is fake info and another test - but I fear this is just bad writing and a clumsy exposition to set up the Chekov’s Gun that our protagonists will be tempted to use.

We also learn Anders was Orlando's mentor, It’s weird that Hope mentions him as a way to try to get Anders upset (you’d think she would also be upset, since she made him think she was his friend and betrayed him). But Anders remain calm and cold, and Hope only gets upset when he mentions Dev.  

If there is any ambiguity, it’s only with regard to Echo - she is probably just pretending, too, but there’s a tiny possibility that she really has decided to join them because she needs to be a soldier and have a war to fight and someone to follow. which has been established as her trait. And Echo does point out that the brainwashed Disciples children have it much better than she ever did with Azgeda. Hope throws that into her face here when she says “You just like someone to give you orders”. But that’s probably just a red herring.

The Disciples breed a limited number due to the limited resources, Why don’t they all instead just go to Sanctum, or Skyring?

The simulations were somewhat interesting, but it was pretty clear that Diyoza, Octavia and Echo were pretending to be able to kill Hope because they were threatened they would be sent to Skyring individually to die alone. Diyoza even straight up told Hope it’s what they need to do, and Echo noted “they are watching us all the time” before starting to talk about how the Disciples have convinced her to believe in their goal. Hope was acting like a child and was unable to pretend - because she is still inexperienced, she has spent most of her life on Skyring with just a few people. Now, I did gasp at first when I saw Echo killing Hope, and to be fair, I can see Echo killing Hope in real life, but Diyoza and Octavia killing Hope? Hell no. 

The only thing that made me think a little bit was - is every detail in the fear simulations planned by the Disciples (probably Levitt) - or do their own minds fill in the blanks? In Echo's simulation, Hope told her "they took Bellamy from you" and called her out “I thought Bellamy meant something to you". If that was a product of Echo’s own mind, it’s a bit like Clarke calling herself out through Blodreina in her mindspace in season 6 - “I thought you cared about Bellamy” - which was the embodiment of her guilt. That would support the idea that Echo is not planning revenge, because why would she be calling herself out in her subconsciousness? But that’s a moot point if it’s all designed by Levitt.

Speaking of which, has Levitt seen Echo’s, Diyoza’s and Hope’s memories, and has he seen anything past Octavia’s season 3 memories? That has never been clear - the Disciples don’t know Clarke doesn’t still have the Flame, but they knew what Gabriel looked like (in 7x01), which they could have only learned from Octavia... and Octavia here says “You’ve seen me at my worst”, which seems to imply he saw her as Blodreina.

But while Echo may have wanted to save Hope from a worse fate when she sentenced her to 5 years on Skyring, that’s cold comfort since 5 years all alone would be terrible and drive anyone insane. (It did with Orlando.) Somehow I doubt Hope will get to be sent there - something will happen and she will probably be saved from that.

The highlight of this episode for me ended up being the mention of Etherea- because it confirms some of my theories and it’s a new planet we will be seeing soon and where Bellamy probably is.

On Sanctum, Emori is put in danger again, as Nikki’s hostage - and Murphy is worried and trying to save her. Which has been a recurring theme - it’s the only way to make people care about this plot. I doubt that many people care about the Faithful, a bunch of stupid a-holes who have so recently planned to burn their own children out of their misguided faith. I did feel a little tinge of sympathy for Jeremiah, the guy who keeps thanking Murphy for saving his son - because the guy is so clueless that he doesn’t seem to understand that he himself had the agency to decide what happens to his son. But this is probably why Madi’s friend is shown here with Madi (his name is Rex, according to the credits - he is the Sanctum boy who clearly doesn’t follow in his parents’ footsteps and invited the null boy from CoG to play soccer with him) - we need to see someone who will be hurt by what happens when Sheidheda kills these people. (The trailer shows Rex grieving one of the victims in the next episode.)(Trey, the “adjustor” who brainwashed Jordan and acted as the leader of the Faithful in earlier episodes, was not in this episode, so I’m afraid that a-hole is still around.)

But Murphy and Emori did have good moments in this episode. Both were very brave - Emori did not allow Nikki to use her to blackmail Murphy, and Murphy, this time, wasn’t just desperately worried about Emori’s life - but he offered his own life for hers. (He claimed to be the one responsible for Hatch’s death by saying it was his idea to use the prisoners - which is true; the part he left out is that it was Raven’s idea to lie to them.) This is huge - he has been willing to do a lot to save Emori, but has never offered to sacrifice himself for someone before, not even for her. The closest he had come to it before was telling her and Monty to leave him to save themselves in 5x13. 

And Murphy's line to Jackson "I'm 150 pounds wet and you can’t fight to save your life” was one of the highlights of the episode. 

Another development is that Indra and the others finally know that Clarke, Raven, Gaia, Miller and others are missing - but they still don’t seem to have any idea where they may be.

Sheidheda quoting Casablanca is one of the weirder moments of this season. I suppose he may have know about it from Becca or some of the other early Grounders.

Apart from being kind of boring, this episode’s biggest problem is what Indra does at the end. Of course Indra wants Sheidheda dead, but it would be a lot more in character if she killed him herself. She could have pulled a gun and shot him in the head the moment they had resolved the situation. She should be aware of what a good fighter Shady is, and that everyone in Sanctum sucks at fighting (especially when they’re not high on red toxin).

On rewatch, I realized that, while Knight (the Sangedakru who stans Shady) and another Grounder knelt immediately, Penn (who is Trikru) and another Grounder just stood there - so we’ll see how divided or not the Grounders will be about him in 7x10.

Rating: 4/10

[phati-sari]

Hey PS I was wondering if you could give some tips on editing? I know that everyone has a slightly different process that they go through and I was really interested in knowing yours since your stories always have little to no grammatical or spelling errors! Thanks!

Hello!

I’m flattered that you would ask me!! Thank you very much for the confidence boost :)

I began a series of posts on my writing process years ago, but it felt weird to continue it. You can read it here – Part 1 // Part 2 // Part 3 

Editing tips were to be the next post so maybe this can be Part 4 :) Sorry about the long post -- I tried to put a cut here but it screwed up the entire post by somehow adding the read more link to the ask itself? (Tumblr is drunk?)

‘You might not write well every day, but you can always edit a bad page. You can’t edit a blank page.’ – Jodi Picoult

1. Time

No one wants to hear it, but the editing process needs time. The best thing would be to leave the piece alone for so long that when you return to it, it reads like something new. It’s not always possible but it’s undoubtedly the best thing. The term “fresh eyes” applies here.

The next best thing is to take a break – a few hours or a few days – and come back to it.

2. Start big and work towards the small

Don’t focus on spelling and grammar first.

Most people find it easiest to write dialogue, so write that first.

Come back and work on plot and structure. Play around with what happens and in which order.

Then work on action and emotion (what is everyone doing or feeling while speaking?).

Once that’s done, focus on the words.

3. Be ruthless

Cut anything that’s not working. Sometimes, your first and second drafts are just warm-ups for the final thing. It sounds demoralising but I promise it helps.

4. Read the sucker out aloud

This is especially useful if you haven’t got the time to take a long break between writing and editing – you know what you meant to write and sometimes you just can’t see the errors. When we read, the brain naturally fills in gaps and auto-corrects words. It’s our pattern recognition skills coming to the forefront. Very helpful in an escape room, not so useful when editing. Reading aloud helps you hear the missing words, the repetitions, the things that just don’t sound or feel right. 

5. Check the tense and point of view

I spoke about tense changes in the second part of the series. Basically: pick a tense and POV and stick to them.

I always write in past tense, which means I have to be careful when I’m writing memories or flashbacks. I take extra care that these portions sound more ‘in the past’ than the action.

6. Less is more

Here are some things I look for while I’m editing:

Remove instances of “that” and “had”: Read a sentence, and then read it again without the “that” or “had”. If it still makes sense, get rid of the extra word. If in doubt, leave the word in.

For example:

Khushi said that she knew where Arnav’s laptop was.

Avoid sentence structures featuring “that that”.

For example:

She told him that that idea had come to her as she’d been watching a serial. She told him that she’d been watching a serial when the idea had come to her.

Remove unnecessary modifiers – find a better word: Look for words like “very”, “really”, “so”, and “quite” and replace them and the word they modify with a better word.

For example:

Arnav was so angry furious when he learned Khushi had washed his laptop with soap and water.

Look for redundant words and phrases : First (and second and third) drafts are often full of redundant words. Spotting them is a skill!

For example:

Tears fell from her eyes when Khushi realised she hadn’t helped by washing his laptop.

(Where else would tears fall from?)

I was only trying to help, Khushi thought to herself.

(You can’t think to others unless you’re telepathic.)

This is also where I’d look for someone putting down a book twice, entering or exiting a room twice, someone having three hands, that sort of thing. A common mistake I see is Khushi putting her hand on Arnav’s shoulders. She can’t put one hand on both shoulders, not unless she’s anatomically very different from what was shown in the serial.

Look for passive sentences and make them active: Passive sentences create a barrier between your reader and the actions or emotions of the characters. Sometimes this is exactly what you’re trying to do – keep them detached – but usually you want your readers right there with the characters.

For example:

The laptop was washed by Khushi. Khushi washed the laptop.

Sometimes, it’s a two step process:

The phone was picked up by Payal. Payal picked up the phone. Payal answered the phone.

That’s a personal preference – if I can say it with one word then I won’t use two:

She turned around spun to face him. He was sitting down on the bed.

This leads to an interesting problem. Just this week a reader told me that I use “such hard words to understand” and that they were “googling every minute to know the actual meaning of words”. The word in question, apparently, was “swivelled”, which I’d used instead of “turned”.

Take my advice with a huge grain of salt!!

You need cadence and rhythm: Short sentences have impact. Longer sentences help you build your world and characters. Join sentences together or break them up, see what works.

She spun to face him. He was sitting on the bed. She spun to find him sitting on the bed.

My writing style is economical. This is not always a good thing: I’m often told my updates are short :( But I’m not inclined to take 2500 words when 1800 will do.

6. Check for words/phrases you like using

I overuse “gaze” and “eyes”, I talk about the pulse too much, and I forget to talk about what people’s hands are doing. It’s a learning process.

7. Check for repeated words.

This one only stands out after multiple re-reads, but I try not to use words twice in one update. In this sentence, I used small twice and didn’t need “looking” to describe what he was doing:

Earlier, as he’d rummaged in the wardrobe looking for night clothes, a small yellow notebook had fallen between his feet with a small thud.

8. Check spelling and grammar

I’ve added “Arnav”, “Khushi”, “Jiji” and many other words to the dictionary of my computer. That way, the chance I’ll publish something with “Anrav” or “Kushi” is lowered.

Sometimes, the spelling and grammar check misses things – you’ve written then instead of the – this is where read out aloud comes in very handy. Other things, like the difference between principal and principle, are harder. Grammarly is free and works with Chrome. It picks up a lot of these things and I use it for all my stories.

9. Check your formatting

Are italics and bolding applied consistently? (I use italics for Hindi words but don’t use them for titles in Hindi)

Is everything aligned the same way?

Don’t use ellipses (…)  instead of full stops (.)

10. Change the font or the font-size

Sometimes, our eyes or brains become used to where words fall in a sentence or paragraph. If you change the font or the font-size suddenly things fall into different places and you can find the errors more easily.

I draft in Scrivener but I always paste everything into Wattpad and Tumblr as a way of checking. The difference in font-size and paragraph width (margins) of both platforms helps me pick up errors.

Thanks for asking :) I hope that helps!!

[nanamicide]

A life of her own - chapter 1

Summary: Junko Enoshima's blackmail attempt on Sakakura Juzo has failed. Love has trumped despair. Mukuro has to watch her sister's plans fail, and learn how to live without her and her orders. Yet, she doesn't have any particular likes or dislikes, or things she wants to do.

Read on AO3

Mukuro had never loved, nor cared about despair. The only thing she loved and cared about was her twin sister, Junko Enoshima. Ever since their parents had died in that tragic accident when they were only three years old, she had made her happiness her only purpose in life. Since the strawberry blonde loved despair, it had only been natural for Mukuro to join the Ultimate Despair and help her create the most awful, most tragic, most despair-inducing event in human history. She’d had to do horrible things to make her sister’s maddest wishes come true – things she would never be able to share with anyone around her – but she had no regrets. The smile on her sister’s face whenever she saw another human being fall into despair was the best reward for her. It made her feel so alive, as if she were doing exactly what her parents would have wanted her to do, were they still in this world.

Despite all of this, and regardless of the happy chatter about despair and despair-inducing plans for the future between Junko-chan and Yukizome-sensei, Mukuro couldn’t help but feel uneasy. There was something about the room they were in that made her feel as though something terrible was going to happen today. It was probably because too many people had been getting involved in their secret plans in the past few weeks – she had always felt uncomfortable around strangers, after all.

First it had been Izuru Kamukura, the Ultimate Hope that was artificially created by the academy. Mukuro had understood why he was important for Junko-chan’s plan, so she’d let her be in touch with him in spite of how dangerous he seemed to be. Then, it had been that frail animator boy, Ryota Mitarai. Even though he seemed completely harmless, Mukuro got the feeling that he may bring about their demise. Unlike her, Junko-chan or Kamukura, he had people who cared about him. It would only be a matter of time until these people would be worried about how her sister had turned him into a terrified mess. In fact, it had only taken two days for that to happen. The Ultimate Nurse, Mikan Tsumiki, had been sent after him to help him with health issues. She didn’t seem dangerous either, but Mukuro had known from the start that people would end up looking for her as well, bringing more attention to their activities.

Once again, she’d been right. Yukizome-sensei, Mitarai-kun and Tsumiki-san’s teacher, had come looking for them. Of course, Junko-chan was delighted with all the attention they were suddenly getting. This gave her more people to brainwash into joining their cause, which in turn, made her feel stronger about what would come next. Mukuro wished she could be as confident as her.

“Ah, Yukizome-san,” Junko-chan beamed. “I have to go take care of one of your friends right now. You know, the one who’s totally not in love with your boyfriend or anything. He’s been sticking his nose in my business recently, and I can’t wait to see his strong, manly features turn to despair when I expose his dirty little secret to everyone in the Parade!”

The gyaru took a few steps towards the door and glanced at her sister. Mukuro turned to her.

“Please make sure none of them do anything stupid, idiot,” she spat at Mukuro, leaving the room and slamming the door behind her.

She’s right, Mukuro smiled to herself, I really am an idiot compared to her.

-

When Junko came back, an extra person had joined them. Mukuro had expected her to be furious and call her useless for not managing to keep him out of the room – she had left for a quick bathroom break when he barged in – but she was ecstatic. This wasn’t enough to help Mukuro with the nervousness she’d been experiencing all day, though. She was still feeling as though something bad was going to happen to them today, and that feeling was only growing bigger with every single passing second. Komaeda-kun’s sudden arrival and attempt to rescue his teacher – who had since then left to try and gather some of her students here and make them fall into despair – and classmates had had a completely different effect on Mukuro than on her sister.

The skinny white-haired teenager was saying something about how Junko-chan’s death would be nothing but a stepping stone for hope, and how he was so lucky to have found their hideout. Mukuro was on edge, keeping close watch of him. She couldn’t tell if he was serious or if he was just some of sort of comically stupid lunatic. It was only when he pulled a gun out of his pocket that Mukuro realized that had meant every single word he’d said. Luckily for her, the gun was jammed and he spent a few minutes trying to fix it. If he tried anything else, Mukuro would have time to disarm him.

He was still talking about how lucky he was when Kamukura appeared. Mukuro couldn’t get used to his sudden popping in and out of the places they stayed in. She was never able to tell how and when he arrived and left, and this made her feel unsafe. She knew that if he suddenly decided to do away with her and her sister, she wouldn’t be able to put much of a fight, and she hated that. She hated that Junko-chan had decided they needed him for her plan, no matter how sensible her reasons were. Kamukura was way too dangerous, and what was happening right in front of her eyes was yet another piece of evidence of the fact.

The slender dark-haired figured had swiftly grabbed the gun from Komaeda-kun’s hands and shot him, telling him that he also had what was called ultimate luck. Mukuro gasped as Komaeda-kun fell onto the floor. She had killed people before, but it’d never been so quick and easy.

“Are you scared, sis?” Junko asked her. “Isn’t seeing someone who’s better than you soooo despair-inducing? If he were better at following orders, you’d be completely useless to me now. Not that I really need you, anyway.”

Mukuro wanted to respond, but she knew it was no use. Instead, she kept her eyes on Komaeda-kun who was still… breathing? She wasn’t sure how it was possible – Kamukura had shot him in the chest, she’d seen it with her own two eyes – but the boy was still alive.

Thank goodness, she thought. Maybe things won’t be so bad today. At least we don’t have an extra and unnecessary death on our hands.

The tension she’d been feeling all day began to drop, and she stretched her arms in front of her. They would be okay – they always were. Even though she was always in charge of the dirty work, at least Junko-chan’s analytical abilities always enabled them to get away with things, no matter how bad the mess they had caused was.

Mukuro’s relief was short-lived, though. A few moments later, two men walked into the room. The soldier had no trouble recognizing them – Munakata-san, the former Ultimate Student Council President, and Sakakura-san, the former Ultimate Boxer, had been Investigating the Ultimate Despair ever since they’d organized their very first killing game.

Wait, Mukuro suddenly realized, her eyes widening as her thought process went on, this means Junko-chan didn’t manage to blackmail Sakakura-san? This means… They know everything. We failed? This is it?

As her brain processed what was happening, Mukuro’s legs started feeling weak. She collapsed on her knees, a few tears rolling down her cheeks. She glanced at her sister, whose expression had turned into that of a madwoman. Despite their now impeding doom, she still seemed happy, as though everything were still going according to her plan. It didn’t take long for Mukuro to understand that Junko-chan was finally feeling the despair she’d been craving for all these years. Failing meant that she was the one who was falling into despair this time. She was finally getting a first-hand taste of despair, and she was loving it.

“Look at that! It’s the Ultimate I Swear I’m Not Gay and his Ultimate Forbidden Love Interest!” Junko-chan sounded more excited than ever. “What will they do once they take care of the big bad guys? Kiss and fall in love? Of course not, that wouldn’t be despair-inducing enough!”

The two men ignored her provocation and walked towards her, ignoring everyone else in the room. It was clear they’d come for her and her only. Mukuro wanted to move and get rid of them, if only to save her sister, but something within her was stopping her from doing so. If she killed even only one of them, she wouldn’t be able to get away with it. It would have caused her sister more despair, but for the first time in her life, Mukuro thought that this wasn’t what she wanted.

She didn’t want what Junko-chan wanted. She didn’t want to kill anymore. She’d never liked despair. Thus, Mukuro stayed there, silent. She waited for everything to be over, unsure if she would be able to watch more of what was happening. Yet, she couldn’t keep her eyes off the scene, as if her brain was forcing her to witness this – as if this would be of help to her in the future.

Yukizome-sensei had come back in the room, telling Munakata-san something about how she was glad he’d found this room.

Why is she lying to him? We just brainwashed her, there’s no way she would turn against us so soon – or any time, for that matter. Why is Junko-chan not warning them? Why is she playing along? Mukuro wasn’t sure she understood any of it anymore. Hope, despair – it didn’t make much sense to her at that point.

Kamukura took a few steps forward and grabbed Junko-chan, immobilizing her. He’s… Betraying Junko-chan. I always knew he was dangerous. Ever since we met him, I thought dealing with him was a bad idea. Why didn’t she listen to me? Why do I have to see this?

“You guys take care of them,” Yukizome-sensei said, referring to Kamukura and Junko-chan. “I’ll protect everyone else.”

Mukuro wanted to scream as the redhead came close to her, but she had no energy to do anything. She had completely given up on everything. The mental strain she’d experienced throughout the day and how she’d been surprised by the turn things had taken had drained her. She didn’t want to do this.

All I’ve ever wanted was to make Junko-chan happy and I’ve failed. I’ve pathetically failed by doing everything she wanted me to do. She looks so much happier now that she’s about to be stopped. I should have known that the only thing that would satisfy her was making her fall into despair. I was so stupid. I’ve failed her, and our parents. But most importantly, I failed myself. I’ve only given myself one duty in life, and I wasn’t even able to fulfill it. Just what type of soldier am I? What am I supposed to do?

Mukuro let Yukizome-sensei help her up and get her out of the room. She had no idea what the academy would decide to do with her, but she didn’t care anymore. It wasn’t like there was anything she really wanted to do, anyway. She had dedicated her entire life to Junko-chan, and had done everything in her power to make sure she would succeed no matter how crazy and farfetched her plans were.

Mukuro didn’t have any wishes of her own. She didn’t have any future to look forward to now that Junko-chan would be arrested. That was why it didn’t matter what would happen to her. It didn’t matter what they would do to her because if her sister wasn’t free, Mukuro wouldn’t have anything to do with herself.

As Yukizome-sensei sat her down in headmaster Kirigiri’s office and explained everything that had happened to them, Mukuro cried. She cried and cried and cried for the first time since her parents died. She had no idea what her tears meant, or why she wasn’t able to stop them, but her vision was blurry and her mind unable to follow the conversation that was happening right in front of her.  

[its-flicked-switch]

All The Things She Said

5k | MSR | Post-MS4 

Mulder takes Scully home following their conversation on the dock.

:

—

"Words are like eggs dropped from great heights; you can no more call them back than ignore the mess they leave when they fall."

― Jodi Picoult, Salem Falls

—

MULDER

She stirs when the car hits the rough gravel drive. He can sense her initial unease and subsequent relief as she shakes off the reminisce of sleep and orients herself. Normally, he would tease her about drooling on the upholstery or complain about his inability to hear the NPR due to her obnoxiously loud snoring, but tonight he says nothing as he eases the mustang up to their front porch. Shutting off the ignition, he reaches for her hand, bringing it to the center console and giving it a light squeeze — a silent request for her to stay put until he comes around to open her door. It's not something that he normally insists on doing, nor is it something that she would regularly allow, but tonight calls for chivalry. Tonight, he knows that she will not object.

Scully has always been fiercely independent. In the early stages of their relationship, she resisted being waited on, fussed over, or coddled, often doing so with a single, pointed glance that required little to no interpretation. All these years later, her eyes still hold the same fire and intensity they did when they first met, but tonight, as he opens her door and takes her hand, all he sees is resignation. She's exhausted. They both are.

No words are exchanged as they make their way into the house. They move in a silent rhythm that comes from years of intimacy: every look, touch, and gesture relaying meaning and underlying conversation. Words come secondary because, after all this time, they are often unnecessary.

They pause briefly in the entryway to unload their pockets, ridding themselves of their phones, keys, credentials, and weapons. Slowing his movement, Mulder angles himself to watch Scully as he places his keys next to hers. Her tailored coat is still damp from the rain, making it difficult to remove, but her efforts cease, and her body relaxes when his hands come to rest on her shoulders. He says nothing as he removes it, but he can't help but be troubled by her silence. The last time he can remember her being this quiet was when they were on the run… a time when she had given up everything to be with him, including their son.

As he turns to hang her coat on the wall, he checks the thermostat and bumps the temperature up a few degrees.

He turns to find her standing in a daze in the middle of the living room with her arms crossed over her chest as if she doesn't know where to go or what to do. As he moves to stand directly behind her, he sees a shiver move through her body. Even after two hours in the car with heated seats and all the vents angled in her direction, her clothes still aren't completely dry. While he's not shocked that she stood out in the rain to observe the diving teams, he is surprised that she remained out there as long as she did in her current condition without an umbrella.

After 25 years, one would think that he would have a handle on all things involving and encompassing that which makes Scully, Scully — but he doesn't. She's always been a puzzle. While at times it's aggravating beyond measure, her ability to still surprise him is one of many things that draws him to her.

Looking at her now, Mulder is torn. He wants to talk to her and comfort her, but he's also not sure how. If there is anything that his relationship with her has taught him, it's patience. Scully is a lot like a turtle; she's cautious and moves at her own pace. Any attempt to draw her out before she's ready often results in her closing shop or snapping, which is why even with all of the questions burning in his mind, he has remained silent.

Placing his hands lightly on her shoulders, he angles his head to speak softly in her ear.

"You need to get out of these damp clothes, Scully," he whispers. "Go jump in the shower. I'll make you some soup."

She turns to face him, dropping her hands to her side.

"I'm not hungry Mulder; there's no need to —"

But he doesn't let her finish.

"It's not just for you."

The bomb she dropped on him earlier is far from forgotten. While he's respecting her silence and her need to process everything that has happened, he can't allow her to go to bed without eating. Not now.

He can tell by the look on her face that she wants to protest. Normally what she says goes, but not tonight. She searches his face for a moment, processing his gaze and expression before averting her eyes to stare down at their joined hands.

"Mulder, I…"

Squeezing her hands lightly, he silently interrupts her, directing her eyes back up to his. As soon as she raises her head, his lips catch hers, lingering only for a moment before raising them to the tip of her nose, and then her forehead. His fingers weave themselves into her hair and caress her lower back as he pulls her body tightly against his own.

"We don't have to talk about this now, Scully," he whispers into her hair. "Not if you aren't ready."

Surrendering into his embrace, she burrows her head into his chest and breathes deeply.

Despite the day they've had, he can still smell the remnants of the hair products she uses. Taking in her scent as he kisses the top of her head, Mulder is desperate to comfort her. He wants to promise her that it's going to be okay… that he will never again abandon her and that this time will be different. But Mulder says nothing. Instead, he remains silent. Not because he fears commitment but because he knows he's powerless to make such promises. History has taught him that much.

He can feel the current of emotion running through her as his hands roam the expanse of her back. After speaking briefly to Skinner and learning of her pregnancy, her words on the dock and behavior over the course of the past several weeks makes more sense. Her words and actions were provoked… guided by a madman, pregnancy hormones, and fear.

Giving her a gentle squeeze, he releases her and turns her towards the base of the stairs.

"Go shower. Your soup will be ready when you get out."

She's halfway up when she stops.

"Mulder?"

"Yes?"

"I want chicken noodle."

"Chicken noodle, it is then."

He waits until she disappears at the top of the stairs before retreating into the kitchen. As he gathers the ingredients for the soup, he can hear her moving around in their bedroom and the sound of the water running in the master bathroom. While he desperately yearns for answers that only she can provide, he is also grateful to have some time to himself. Odds are, she is too.

He and Scully have always known that there was more to William's conception, but knowing something and having it slap you in the face are two entirely different things. Having now seen what William is capable of, the gravity of what has been done to them and to their son hits him with full force.

In the years following William's adoption, all they could do was hope that the magnetite injection had been successful in silencing the alien sequences of William's DNA, rendering him useless to the evil forces who had invested interests in him. Now, Mulder wonders if the opposite were true. Had the magnetite somehow enhanced William's abilities, eliminating all the weaknesses observed in the alien-human hybrids that preceded him? Had Jeffrey Spender actually made William more powerful? And if so, had it been intentional or incidental?

Mulder's faith in anyone carrying the name Spender borders on nonexistent, but after what he witnessed tonight, he's inclined to believe that his half brother's attempt to save his nephew was genuine, even if it was for all the wrong reasons.

When Mulder appeared behind the Smoking Man after he shot William, the confusion and shock that crossed his features was genuine, giving rise to something Mulder had not previously considered.

Having spent his entire career being lied to, manipulated, and mislead, Mulder had always assumed that the devil holding the candle knew the end game, but perhaps that was the greatest misdirection of all. What transpired on the docks has made one thing abundantly clear to Mulder.

They don't know.

The forces responsible for William's bioengineered DNA have no idea what they have created.

And suddenly, a great deal of what he and Scully have experienced over the course of the past two decades makes sense to him… even William's birth. The super soldiers who gathered to witness his birth left disinterested and disappointed. While he's not sure what they were told or what they were expecting, it's now more clear to him than ever that William has never been what was expected. How much Jeffery and the Smoking Man knew and from who is still unclear, but the more Mulder thinks about it, the more he suspects that even those behind the curtain are at a loss to explain William.

William is powerful. Far more powerful and gifted than his creators anticipated him to be.

He's a train off the tracks, and they don't possess the manpower or the technology to stop him.

With this in mind, Mulder has little doubt that Scully is right. William is alive. After what he witnessed in that hotel room, he doubts very seriously that a single bullet would be capable of killing him, and that is assuming that the bullet even struck him, to begin with. As for the Smoking Man, he should hope to be dead. If he's not, he will be soon enough.

Now that he's had some time to ponder William's actions and replay their conversation, Mulder is left with far more questions than answers. William clearly didn't need his protection and knew Mulder was being followed, so why didn't he just run or hide in plain sight as he had done previously? Was he simply curious to meet his father? Or was there something more sinister at play?

In the short time they had together, William had only asked Mulder one question, and Mulder got the distinct impression that he already knew the answer. Mulder and Scully possess the same amount of alien DNA. The markers they each possess have slightly different variations, but the percentages are the same, leading him to believe that William's ability to communicate with Scully and not him has more to do with the chip implanted into the base of Scully's skull than it does their shared alien DNA. The only way to be certain would be to remove the chip, and that's not an option. With this in mind, he's not sure why William asked him about the visions. Was he trying to tell him something? Take a stab at his paternity? Or was it some sort of test to determine how much or how little he knew? If this were any other case or any other person, Mulder would be inclined to dismiss it, but he can't suppress the nagging feeling that William had asked him that question for a reason.

Mulder's interaction with William had also awakened something inside of him that he hadn't anticipated.

Fear.

Rather than avoiding his pursuers, William had opted to kill them in a violent display of power that was not of this world. Mulder has seen and experienced a lot of weird and terrifying things over the years, but nothing, not even his abduction, death, and subsequent resurrection could compare to what he witnessed in that hotel room.

He was in awe, yet he was terrified.

How could something he and Scully created all those years ago grow to be something so viciously violent?

The conclusion he has come to is one of purpose.

Extinguishing the threat in the manner that he did was a message, not only to Mulder but to all the others who pursue him. It was a warning laced with a promise. William is not to be captured, controlled, or contained.

Monica Reyes had called to warn them.

Whoever controls your son controls the future.

Twenty-four hours ago, that warning had sent him on a mission to find his son and to be his protector. What a joke that had been.

To those still pursuing William now, all Mulder can say is — good fucking luck.

Sounds associated with a stovetop disaster snap him back into action. He's been so deeply lost in thought that he's nearly let the soup boil over. When he turns off the burner and shifts the pot over to the other side of the stove, the room quiets, drawing attention to the fact that the water upstairs is no longer running. Cursing under his breath, he wonders how long Scully has been out of the shower. Not hearing her hair dryer or any movement coming from upstairs, he begins to wonder if she has already crawled into bed when a chair is pulled out from underneath the table behind him.

Her sudden appearance startles him enough that he lets go of the soup ladle, letting it drop into the depths of the soup as he turns to face her.

A look of apology crosses her face as she sits. The past twenty-four hours have left them both a little on edge.

"The plan was to bring this up to you so that you didn't have to come back down," he says, eyeing her curiously.

She nods her head from side to side, dismissing the sentiment as she begins to unload the tray he had been preparing to take upstairs.

"You need to eat too."

Mulder isn't hungry, but he knows he can't tell her that, so instead of arguing with her, he grabs another bowl, fills it, and places it on the table across from hers and joins her.

He can tell that she recognizes her mother's recipe by the small smile that plays on her lips as she picks up her spoon and stirs. She doesn't vocalize it, but he can tell that she is touched by his gesture.

Taking in her appearance, he's surprised to see that her hair is still damp. She normally dries it immediately after she gets out of the shower, but tonight it possesses the wildness of quick towel dry. Her silk pajama bottoms and fuzzy socks explain her stealthy entry.

He's briefly curious as to where she found the socks because he's never seen them before. The long-sleeved Oxford tee she is wearing, however, is familiar — because it's his.

"I owe you an apology, Mulder," she says quietly, breaking their silence.

"For?"

"I shouldn't have said the things I said earlier. Not without explanation," she says, her eyes retreating into the depths of her soup. "William is our son… a DNA test confirmed that 18 years ago, but it also confirmed that it was more complicated than that."

"Is it?"

His question earns him a look, but she takes his point, quieting as she stares back down into her soup. He would say more if he didn't sense she was working up to something… something that he suspects has been weighing on her for some time now.

"He's…"

She doesn't finish her statement because she doesn't have to. William was never truly theirs, at least not in the way they wanted him to be.

"To think that I abandoned him all those years ago… dumping him off on an unsuspecting family, who couldn't have possibly had any idea of what they were signing up for… I can imagine how they must have felt the first time they saw him move an object across the room with his mind because I certainly remember how I felt." She pauses again, this time making eye contact. "And that was with the added benefit of knowing where it came from."

The hand not stirring is now resting on her forehead, her fingers entangling themselves into her damp hair as she continues.

"The magnetite injection Jeffrey gave him worked, at least initially. He stopped moving his mobile, and Jeffrey assured me that results were permanent. For years, I convinced myself that giving him up was my only option, but we both know that isn't true. I could have run. The gunmen created false identities for all of us, not just you, but instead of running, I signed our rights away. I abandoned him."

At this point, Mulder interjects because she knows better, and they've had this discussion before.

"Scully, you did the only thing you could to protect him. Running wouldn't have been the right choice for him, and you know that… you, of all people, know what life on the run entails, and it's no life for a child. The knowledge that he was with you would have always given them a starting point. Putting him up for adoption gave him anonymity. You didn't abandon him, Scully… you saved him."

He can tell she is on the verge of interrupting him, so he raises his hand to silence her because he's not done. He's not even close to being done.

"No. We don't know what it was like for him or his adoptive family to go through that process blindly, but I think it's safe to say that choice you made bought him time that he otherwise wouldn't have had. When he was born, they didn't take him from us because he wasn't what they were expecting, but that doesn't mean that they weren't watching."

The cameras in their apartments had only been the tip of the iceberg. The syndicate and their associates had been tapping their phones and tracking their vehicles for years, using the intel they gathered to manipulate them further. Instead of shutting them down, the syndicate had used them to their advantage. Mulder knows that Scully knows this just as well as he does, but he continues to press in order to make his point.

"Once they learned of his abilities, they would have taken him from us, and we wouldn't have been able to stop them. But now… Scully… what he was able to do… adoption was the greatest gift you could have given him. It gave him the time in the dark he needed in order to be able to protect himself. The monsters who helped to create him can't touch him now. The power he possesses is beyond their reach."

"Mulder we helped to create him. You and me. We knew… we knew of his abilities… his alien DNA. Doesn't that make us just as culpable as they are?"

"Scully, what happened to you outside of your consent…"

"He didn't force me to get into the car Mulder! I packed a bag. Hell, I drove the car! We may never know exactly what he did or how he did it but —"

"You agreed to accepting the cure for cancer, not to being impregnated with science."

She looks surprised by his choice of words, so Mulder elaborates.

"Skinner told me what Spender said."

While this gives her pause, she still doesn't let it go.

"It doesn't change anything. The point is still the same, Mulder. We knew —"

"Did we really? You and I both have alien DNA, and neither of us can change what the mind perceives."

"Mulder…"

"No. Listen to me. We knew that he possessed alien DNA and that he could move his mobile, but we couldn't have possibly foreseen this. They certainly didn't."

"Mulder, what are you… ?"

"When the Smoking Man shot William, he had no idea he was shooting William. He thought he was shooting me. Don't you see? They don't know, Scully. They have no idea what he is and what he is capable of… so how in the world can you blame yourself for not seeing it? What happened to his adoptive family isn't your fault. There is no way you could have known."

He knows that the guilt Scully carries isn't just about William. She feels responsible for the Van De Kamps' death. Raising and protecting their son had cost them their lives.

Tears are forming in her eyes, but he presses on because he has a point to make, and she needs to let this go.

"What else could you have possibly done? Abort him?"

Her head jerks up. The fire in her eyes a warning that he's hit a nerve.

"No. I would have never —"

"Exactly. The only thing you are guilty of is wanting him and loving him. None of this is your fault. Not a damn bit of it."

A single tear threads down her cheek as she releases her grip on the spoon she's been holding, letting it settle down into the bottom of the bowl.

"Do you think he knows?"

She says it so quietly that he almost doesn't hear her.

"Do you think he has any idea how much we wanted him? Prayed for him?"

"I think… I think it's safe to say that he knows that the circumstances of his adoption weren't typical."

Despite the seriousness of the conversation, she snorts.

"He's bright, Scully. How could he not be? He's an uber-Scully."

And that does it: she smiles.

Her smile calms him. Looking deeply into her eyes, he does everything in his power to portray the calmness and security that he knows she needs. There are a lot of difficult conversations that lie ahead, but they don't all have to come tonight.

Taking his cue, she retorts back.

"Oh, I don't know, Mulder. I think we can both agree that he's a little bit spooky."

"Just a little?"

Her soft laugh fills the kitchen.

There's a pause. It's not awkward, but it is pointed, a sign that she's about to shift the conversation.

"Speaking of spooky uber-Scullies…"

As relieved as Mulder is that she's bringing up the baby, he's not really sure where to start or what to say. Dozens of questions and comments immediately come to mind, but, ultimately, he decides to start with the basics.

"How long have you known?"

Her hesitation confirms what he already suspected. She's known ever since he found her sobbing in the shower last week.

"A little over a week," she says as she takes a weighted breath. "I'm sorry that I didn't tell you sooner… that I've kept this from you. I wanted to tell you so badly, but —"

"Were you afraid that I wouldn't want it?" he asks, unable to hide the emotion creeping into his voice.

"No… no… I knew you would never… Mulder, I'm 54 years old. We've never… why now? After all that we've been through and everything we've tried? Why now? I just… I had to be sure. I already took one child away from you. I couldn't do that to you again. I had to make absolutely sure."

"So you would have —"

"NO. I'm not saying that… I just… Crystal had a close friend of hers run some tests … off the books. And then I ran them again myself. I wanted answers. I wanted to understand. If this was something other than a miracle, I had to know. I couldn't give you hope only to take it away."

Reaching his hand across the table, he places it on top of hers, encouraging her to hold his gaze.

"No matter what you've found, I want it, and I want to know everything. No more secrets. Not anymore."

Scully's eyes start to water, and her voice cracks as she struggles to control her emotions.

"The last time we went through this, I never got to tell you. By the time I figured it out, you were gone, and when you came back, I was already so far along that I didn't have to tell you."

Her tears are falling freely now, and he can't stand it. Within seconds he has her in his arms, cradling her as she sobs.

"I'm scared, Mulder. I'm so scared."

She doesn't have to say what she is scared of because her fears match his own.

"What if —"

But he interrupts her because he doesn't want her to go there. He doesn't want her thinking about the long list of medical complications, chip activation, or alien DNA.

"Scully, you can't go there. You'll drive yourself crazy if you do. And unless there is something else you haven't told me, neither of us have taken any field trips with members of the underworld lately, which can only mean…"

She snorts, lightly smacking at his chest.

"I just don't understand it, Mulder. Why now? After all of this time… we never exactly —"

"I know."

They had never used any form of birth control. Not even after William. Each of them secretly hoping for a second miracle, never dreaming in a million years that it would come nearly two decades later.

Although Scully's tears have subsided, neither of them moves.

Mulder hates to break the moment, but he also doesn't want her to overthink anything. It's late, and she really needs to eat something. Neither of them has eaten in over 12 hours. Dissecting the mystery of miracle baby number two can wait until tomorrow. Right now, his primary concern is feeding her and putting her to bed.

"You're letting your soup get cold."

The feel of her mouth curling up into a smile against his shirt warms him more than a hot bowl of soup ever could.

"Oh, and yours is staying warm," she asks, pulling away just enough to look up into his face.

"My soup — is special," he tells her.

To this, she smiles and shakes her head, her expression turning more serious as she stills.

Gazing up into his eyes, she whispers, "I love you."

The intensity of her gaze puts butterflies in his stomach and makes his hands shake. The fact that she can still do this to him twenty-five years later never fails to amaze him.

He knows that she loves him. He can see it in her eyes every time she looks at him, but hearing her say it has always stirred something deep inside of him. Something that he doesn't have the words to describe.

Unable to respond with words, he lowers his head to hers, capturing her lips and running his hands through her hair and along her side. Halting his hand to stop just under the swell of her breast, he kisses her with everything he has, and she kisses him back without hesitation, pulling his body more tightly against her own as she encourages him to deepen the kiss.

With all of the storms that lie between them, this aspect of their relationship has never been a source of contention.

As much as Mulder would love for this to continue and progress into something far more intimate, he knows that now is not the appropriate time. Breaking the kiss, he places smaller kisses along the sides of her face and forehead before gazing into her eyes.

"Let's eat," he tells her softly.

Nodding, she runs her hands down his chest and raises up onto the tips of her toes to place a soft kiss on his lips before returning to the table.

After they finish eating, he encourages her to head upstairs while he cleans up the kitchen and turns off the lights.

When he enters their bedroom, he finds her in the bathroom, drying her hair. Taking a moment to appreciate her, he stands and watches her until their eyes meet in the mirror. Moving to stand behind her, he rests his hands on her hips and kisses the top of her head before turning and stripping to get in the shower.

Of all of the things currently unknown, there is one truth that he does know with absolute certainty. She is his everything, and he's going to spend the rest of his life making sure that she never regrets coming home.

When he gets out of the shower, the lights in their bedroom are off. Although it's dark, he can still make out the silhouette of her small frame curled up in the center of their queen-sized bed and wastes no time joining her. As he pulls back the covers, she relaxes and shifts her weight to encourage him to pull her into his embrace. Burrowing his nose in her hair, Mulder says the words that were caught in his throat earlier.

"I love you too, Scully. More than anything."

"I know," she replies, her voice thick with emotion.

Bring his hand up to her lips, she kisses his fingers lightly, before moving them down to splay over her stomach, resting them protectively over the life currently growing inside of her — a life they had created together.

AN: This story is a chapter from a larger work that is currently in progress. For those of you who are interested in delving further into the conspiracy, want an actual conclusion to the William arc, and are curious about the ins and outs of being pregnant at 54, the full work can be found here. 

And, as always, a HUGE thank you to my betas @kikocrystalball​, @admiralty-xfd​, and @suilven19​ for their edits and encouragement... because nobody gets there alone ;)