#Its been fun growing out my roots again actually

[bootdork]

[dollgxtz]

His Watchful Eye Pt. 4

Word Count: 11.9k

Tags: yandere!sylus, sylus x fem!reader, noncon, dubcon, drugging, kidnapping, obedience training, forced breeding, forced pregnancy, stalking, pet names like kitten, sweetie, pretty, ownership, manipulation, attempted rape, xavier appears

Taglist: @ngh-ch-choso-ahhhh, @eliasxchocolate, @nozomiaj, @xmiisuki, @sylus-kitten, @its-regretti, @m0onlustre, @ve1vet-cake @letgobro, @starkeysslvt, @yarafic, @prince-nikko, @leiaglamela, @connorsui @iluvmewwwww75 , @biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer @mysssticc @babygirl-panda19 @someone-somewheres-stuff, @zaynesjasmine1

AN: Bit of a late upload for you night owls and a nice surprise for my early risers! Someone tell me to stop making the chapters longer, thank you LOL. This chapter was a lot of fun to write and I hope you guys enjoy! This is on AO3 as usual! :D

"So… uh, what’s your dog’s name?" you asked, trying to keep up the conversation and maybe get him to reveal more. Your voice was casual, but inside, your nerves were on high alert. "Dog? What dog?" he said absentmindedly, his eyes still glued to the window. His response was automatic, dismissive, as if he hadn’t even registered the question. "You...said that noise earlier was your dog? Right?"

Read Pt.1, Pt.2, Pt.3 Pt.5

Xavier drummed his fingers rhythmically on the glass counter, each tap growing more impatient as the seconds stretched on. His eyes darted around the cluttered store, scanning the shelves filled with everything from worn-out sneakers to high-end dress shoes. The store clerk had disappeared into the back room several minutes ago, leaving him alone with his thoughts. Xavier wasn't entirely sure what he was hoping to find here.

He had strolled in with nothing more than a photo of a shoe print—a faint clue at best—but it felt more productive than sitting idly by, doing nothing while the answers to your disappearance slipped further out of reach. At least this was action, however uncertain.

Was this even a tangible way to find you? Was he grasping at straws, wasting precious time on a hopeless lead?

And the most haunting question of all—were you even still alive?

Xavier squeezed his eyes shut, as if closing them tightly enough could block out the flood of dark thoughts threatening to overwhelm him. He couldn’t afford to let his mind go there, not now. Pushing the fear and uncertainty away, he tried to focus on the faint glimmer of hope that had brought him here in the first place. Anything was better than surrendering to despair.

"This is all I could find on it. It's certainly a unique pair," the shop clerk continued, offering a slight smile. "I'm not as technologically advanced as most shops around here, so sorry to disappoint. But, may I ask—why come to my little shop instead of one of those fancy places downtown?"

Xavier took the pamphlet, glancing over the information quickly before shifting his gaze back to the clerk. "Well," he began, a small grin tugging at the corner of his mouth, "I heard you were the kind of guy who could identify a pair of shoes just by its print."

The clerk chuckled softly, his weathered face creasing with the effort. "You've been a great help, actually," Xavier added, sliding the pamphlet into his jacket pocket with a nod of appreciation.

The clerk gave an approving nod, the lines of his face softening in quiet satisfaction before he turned his back again, settling into the familiar rhythm of his work. Xavier headed toward the door, the faint creak of floorboards beneath his boots echoing through the small, dimly lit shop. His hand hovered over the door handle, but just as his fingers brushed the cool metal, a nagging thought rooted him in place. He paused, heart pounding slightly as the question formed in his mind.

He turned back, the weight of uncertainty pulling at his voice. "Say... you wouldn’t happen to know where this shoe was originally made, would you?"

The clerk stopped, mid-motion, his hands faltering over a pile of worn soles. The question seemed to hang in the air, drawing out a moment of silence as the man stared down, his brow furrowing. It was clear he hadn’t thought about it in some time. Xavier felt a flicker of hope, unsure if it would lead him anywhere, but desperately clinging to the possibility.

The clerk finally turned, his face thoughtful, his voice quieter now. "Yeah..." he said slowly, as if pulling the memory from a fog. "Last I saw of that shoe, it came from a company based in the... er, N1—no, wait..." His brow furrowed deeper as he worked to piece it together. "N109 Zone. Yeah, that’s the one."

His words hung in the air, carrying a weight Xavier couldn’t ignore. The clerk’s tone wasn’t just casual recollection—it was tinged with something more, like the memory of that particular shoe stirred something deeper. Xavier felt the knot of tension in his chest tighten.

Xavier felt his breath catch in his throat. N109 Zone. The name alone sent a chill down his spine. He had heard plenty about that place—mostly rumors, but enough to know that it was a dangerous, lawless sector. Few dared to go there unless they had no other choice, and even fewer came back with stories worth telling. It was a no-man’s-land, a forgotten corner of land where control was lost long ago. The kind of place where people disappeared without a trace.

His mind raced, piecing it together. If the shoe had come from there... Did that mean you were there too? His stomach churned at the thought. The faint hope he had clung to started to blur with the creeping dread of what fate could have fallen upon you in the N109 Zone.

"You’re sure about that?" he asked, his voice betraying the slight anxiety creeping in around the edges. The clerk glanced up from his work, noticing the shift in Xavier’s tone.

"Yeah," the clerk said, more firmly this time. "I’m sure. That shoe—rare brand—hard to forget. The company folded years ago, but they used to operate out of the N109 Zone. Only place I’ve ever seen them sold."

Xavier swallowed hard, the words sinking deep. If the shoe came from N109, it could be a clue—a dangerous one, but still the only lead he had. He felt the urgency building inside him, a gnawing sense that time was running out, but also the undeniable question of what he might find if he went there.

Could you really be in a place like that? His mind struggled to fill in the gaps, but there were too many unknowns. Were you okay?

"I...appreciate your help," Xavier muttered, his voice thick with tension. He clenched and unclenched his fist, trying to steady his breathing.

"You're not actually thinking of going there, are you?" the store clerk asked, his voice edged with disbelief as he raised an eyebrow. He leaned slightly forward over the counter, studying Xavier with a mixture of concern and amusement. "No offense, but a pretty fella like you doesn’t exactly look like the type who could survive in a place like that. Not really worth the hassle for a pair of shoes don't you think?"

Xavier paused, a faint smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He didn’t turn around immediately, letting the weight of the clerk’s words linger for a moment. Finally, he glanced back over his shoulder, his expression calm, almost casual. "I'll be fine," he said, his voice steady, though the tension in his body remained. "I've dealt with much worse."

The clerk blinked, surprised by Xavier's calm demeanor, but said nothing more.

Xavier turned to face the door once again, his hand resting on the handle as he prepared to step out into the cold streets. "Thanks again," he added, his tone carrying a finality that didn’t invite more questions.

Without waiting for a response, he pushed open the door and walked out, leaving the shop behind. His heart pounded a little harder now, not just from the looming threat of the N109 Zone, but from the resolve building inside him. There was no turning back now.

He had a tangible clue—a real, solid lead to your whereabouts. For the first time in weeks, the haze of uncertainty lifted ever so slightly. But now that he knew you were possibly in one of the most dangerous areas anyone could imagine, time was no longer on his side. Every second that ticked by felt heavier, pulling him deeper into the urgency of the situation. The N109 Zone wasn’t just dangerous; it was a place where people vanished, a place where hope died. He had no time to waste, but rushing in blindly would be suicide. He needed a plan.

Stepping into the cold evening air, Xavier pulled the pamphlet from his jacket pocket, its crinkled edges soft from being handled. His eyes scanned over the contents carefully. Make and model—simple enough, not much help now. A detailed diagram of the shoe—useful for recognition, maybe, but not a lifeline. Then his eyes caught something else—a faint address printed near the top. It was partially worn, barely legible, but there.

His heart skipped a beat. An address? Could this be where the shoe was made? Or where it was sold? Either way, it was another piece of the puzzle, and right now, it was the closest thing to a breadcrumb trail he had. He squinted at the faded letters, trying to make out every detail.

If this address was in the N109 Zone, it could lead him right into the heart of the danger. But it could also lead him to you.

His mind raced. First, he needed to confirm the location. Then he needed a plan—something better than just walking straight into the N109 Zone and hoping for the best.

Pulling out his hunter’s watch, Xavier quickly scanned the address printed on the pamphlet. The small device whirred to life, its holographic screen flickering as it worked to process the faint, worn-out text. A soft ding echoed in the quiet street as it started searching for the location. Xavier watched the screen intently, his heart pounding with a mixture of hope and apprehension.

The map on the watch blinked, the dot moving erratically across an unmarked, shadowy area. It drifted back and forth, as though even the advanced technology in his hands was confused, struggling to pin down an exact location. Xavier frowned, watching the dot jitter across the screen. His stomach tightened with frustration. Was the address too old? Was it leading him nowhere?

Just when he thought the device might give up entirely, the dot paused. The holographic screen flickered once more, and with a soft chime, it glowed green in confirmation. The hunter's watch had finally locked on to a spot. Xavier stared at it, a sinking feeling settling in his gut. The place it had marked was deep within N109 Zone, tucked away in the heart of the most dangerous, uncharted part of the city.

He exhaled slowly, his mind running through a million possibilities. The watch’s confirmation meant something tangible, something real—but what waited for him there? He couldn’t shake the thought that this could be a trap, a place where the trail might lead to nothing, or worse, to more danger than he could anticipate. But it was also the only clue he had to your whereabouts.

Xavier closed his hand around the watch, feeling its faint warmth through his fingers. He knew what he had to do, but the enormity of it settled on his shoulders. This wasn’t just a simple lead anymore—it was a beacon, calling him into the depths of the N109 Zone. And whatever waited for him there, he would face it.

Because finding you was all that mattered.

As Xavier made his way through the still, empty streets back to his apartment, the first hints of dawn began to creep over the horizon, casting a faint, orange glow across the sky. His mind was already racing, formulating a plan. Gear, weapons,—he’d need everything ready before venturing into the N109 Zone.

But just as he turned the corner, his phone rang, the sharp sound cutting through the early morning quiet. Xavier stopped, his brow furrowing as he fished the phone out of his pocket. It was a jarring sound—no one should be calling him at this early hour.

He glanced at the screen, squinting in confusion. The number was unknown, unfamiliar. His immediate thought was Captain Jenna—she was the only one who’d be up this early, possibly reaching out with new intel—but this wasn’t her number.

He hesitated, thumb hovering over the screen. Unknown number. His instincts screamed caution. In his line of work, random calls at odd hours rarely led to anything good. The number could belong to anyone—a lead, a warning, or worse, a trap.

But then again, it could be something important—something connected to you. He couldn't ignore the possibility.

Should he answer? The phone rang again, and with each buzz, the knot of uncertainty in his stomach tightened. Whoever it was, they wanted to reach him badly enough to call at this ungodly hour.

With a deep breath, Xavier made a decision and swiped to answer the call. "Hello?" His voice was guarded, careful.

For a moment, all Xavier could hear was silence, a thick void that made his pulse quicken. Then, suddenly, the sound of crackling static filled his ears, distorting the line. He frowned, his grip tightening on the phone. The static grew louder, chaotic, until it was abruptly interrupted by a voice—scared, desperate, and unmistakably familiar.

"Xavier? Is that you??"

His heart nearly stopped.

You kept running until your legs gave out, your breath ragged and chest burning, but you couldn’t stop. Not yet. An hour ago, you had been trapped, bound in your captor's suffocating bedroom, that thick invisible leash tightening around your neck with each passing day, stealing your hope, your strength. Every second felt like eternity in that room, but somehow, with some luck of a power outage of all things, you’d broken out of your cage. You’d ran—bolted into the cold night without looking back.

And now, you were almost free.

But “freedom” wasn’t what you had imagined. The streets stretched out before you, bleak and lifeless. It felt wrong. There was no joy in the air, no welcoming breeze to assure you of safety—only the gnawing sense that you had escaped one cage just to enter another. You recalled something Sylus, your captor, had mentioned in passing.

"Its always 'night' here", he'd said with a small smile, and now you truly realized he hadn’t been lying.

Darkness swallowed the entire area, a thick, unnatural veil over everything. Even though your eyes had adjusted to the lack of light, the eerie, half-flickering streetlights cast only dim pools of sickly yellow across the cracked pavement. The shadows loomed, stretching too far, hiding too much. You shivered, not just from the cold but from the haunting silence that wrapped around you.

The air itself felt thick, as if it was suffocating under the weight of secrets too dark, too dangerous to be spoken aloud. Each alley you passed felt like it was watching you, whispering silent threats from the shadows. Exhaustion clung to your limbs, and you had finally stopped, collapsing onto a broken bench under one of the few flickering streetlights that still worked. The cold metal dug into your skin, but you barely noticed. You were too busy trying to catch your breath, to steady your thoughts.

Where do you go now? You scanned your surroundings again, looking for anything that could offer direction, but the streets were as desolate as before. The same cracked pavement, the same looming shadows. No signs. No people. Just an eerie quiet.

A fleeting thought entered your mind—maybe there’s a train station nearby? The idea seemed almost laughable. Would it even take you to Linkon? And would you even make it to a station without getting caught?

You shook your head, mentally cursing yourself for the thought. Hitchhiking was another idea that crossed your mind—no way, you scolded yourself, brushing off the notion as quickly as it came. You probably couldn't trust anyone here. Not in a place like this. Here, trusting a stranger was as reckless as running blind into the dark.

But what other choice did you have? You couldn’t stay still for long; resting too much would make you an easy target. With a deep, shuddering breath, you forced yourself to stand again. Your legs trembled beneath you, but you kept moving, hoping—praying—you’d find someone who wasn’t out to harm you. Something that could help guide you out of this nightmare. Each step felt heavier than the last, the weight of fear pressing harder on your chest.

As your bare feet dragged across the cracked concrete, the desperation gnawed at you more fiercely. You were lost—physically and mentally. Each street looked the same, the darkness playing tricks on your eyes. Panic swelled in your throat. How long could you keep going like this? How much longer could you walk before your legs gave out? Before someone found you?

Your breaths came quicker, shallow with fear. You needed a way out, but the deeper you walked into the N109 Zone, the more it felt like the place was swallowing you whole. You were running out of time. Running out of hope.

And then finally, as if the cruel universe had decided to grant you another fleeting moment of mercy, you saw it—a faint glow of lights in the distance. Squinting, you could just make out a corner store, its soft, artificial light spilling onto the cracked sidewalk. A few people were loitering outside, giving the place a rare sense of life. A tired-looking woman clutched her child's hand tightly, and a man stood by, lazily smoking a cigar, his eyes scanning the street in disinterest. A couple of others hovered nearby, exchanging quiet words under the dim streetlight.

You couldn't believe your eyes. A store? Here? In the N109 Zone? It seemed almost surreal, like it had been plucked from another world and dropped into this forgotten wasteland. But it made sense in a grim way. Even in a place like this, people have to eat. Make a living.

With a rush of desperate energy, you hurried toward the store, your bare feet slapping against the cold pavement. The people outside cast looks in your direction, but don't say anything. You stopped just short of the entrance, glancing down at yourself for the first time. You must look insane. A nightgown hung loosely around your body, dirty and torn at the edges. No shoes. No socks. Your hair was tangled and wild from the running. The sight of yourself made you wince in embarrassment, but there was no time to care about that now.

Pushing the door open, you were greeted by a dimly lit but surprisingly ordinary scene. The inside of the corner store looked like any other—aisles of candy, snacks, cheap knick knacks and toys stacked high. It was a stark contrast to the dangerous, shadowy streets just outside. But one sight caught your attention above all: the food.

Your stomach growled loudly, twisting with hunger. You hadn’t eaten since the chicken dinner Sylus had provided before your “outburst.” You hadn't been able to finish it, and now the exhaustion from running had made the hunger almost unbearable. Your mouth watered at the thought of eating, but there was one major problem—you had no gold.

Your heart sank as you stared at the rows of candy bars and instant noodles. How were you going to get anything?

Anxiously, you shuffled toward the front counter, your nerves jangling with every step. When you reached it, you hesitated for a moment, staring at the small bell. With trembling fingers, you tapped it.

A disheveled-looking man, his hair sticking out in uneven tufts, glanced up from behind the counter. He had been glued to his phone, and the interruption clearly annoyed him. His eyes landed on you, and for a brief second, he just stared, taking in your disarrayed appearance before rolling his eyes in annoyance.

"Can I...help you?" he asked, dragging out the words as if the very act of speaking was a burden.

You swallowed hard, trying to find the right words, but your mind raced with too many conflicting emotions—fear, embarrassment, hunger. What could you even say?

"I've been kidnapped," you blurt out, your voice shaky and desperate. You opened your mouth to explain further, to tell him everything—how you had escaped, how you were on the run, how you needed help—but before you could get another word out, the man snorted.

"Yeah, I've heard that one before," he said dismissively, leaning back on his chair with an exaggerated sigh. "Who hasn't been kidnapped at least once around here?"

His casual tone hit you like a slap. The raw urgency in your voice was met with nothing but apathy. Your heart sank. He wasn’t going to take you seriously. You were just another story in a place like this, another desperate face with nowhere to go. You stood there, frozen, trying to comprehend how someone could be so indifferent to your situation.

You swallowed hard, fighting back the frustration welling up inside you. "Please, I'm serious. I just need—"

"Look," the man interrupted, cutting you off again, his eyes barely lifting from his phone. "You want something, buy it. Otherwise, move along. I’m not here for charity cases."

You glanced at the counter, the rows of candy, snacks, and drinks just inches away, knowing you had nothing to pay with. Desperation clawed at your insides. You were exhausted, starving, and running out of options.

"I don't have any gold... do you ha-have a phone?" you asked again, your voice trembling as you blinked back the hot tears threatening to spill. How could someone be so indifferent to the obvious suffering staring him in the face?

"Broken," he said flatly, still not bothering to look up from his phone. His disinterest was like a physical blow. "And… gold? What are you, some Linkcunt citizen?"

The venom in his words hit you like a slap, and for a moment, you were too stunned to respond. Linkcunt citizen? The insult was harsh, dripping with disdain, and it sent a sudden wave of anger rushing through you.

"Yes, I’m from Linkon," you correct, the frustration and fear bubbling over into your voice. "What’s with the attitude? What did I do to you? I'm asking for help!"

He finally looked up, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, but it wasn’t friendly. It was mocking.

"What did you do? Nothing. That’s the problem. Linkon folk come down here thinking they’re better than everyone, tossing around their fancy gold and expecting the world to hand them everything." He shook his head, his expression a mix of amusement and contempt.

"You want help? Then you’d better figure out how things work around here real fast, princess. No one's gonna hand you anything for free."

You felt your fists clench at his words, the anger mixing with a deeper sense of helplessness. You hadn’t asked to be here. You hadn’t asked for any of this. And yet, standing in this grimy corner store in the depths of the N109 Zone, it was clear that no one cared about your suffering. Not here. You weren’t in Linkon anymore.

Taking a deep breath, you forced yourself to calm down, swallowing the anger rising in your throat. Getting into a fight with this clerk wouldn’t help you, not now. But the bitterness of his words lingered, and you realized just how alone you truly were in this place.

Silently, you turned your back to the greasy man behind the counter, his words still echoing in your mind as you began to walk up and down the aisles. Every step felt heavier than the last, the weight of hunger, thirst, and sheer exhaustion pulling at you. Your stomach growled, gnawing at your insides, reminding you just how long it had been since you'd eaten.

But something else gnawed at you too—something that made your skin crawl with discomfort. You hadn't changed your pad for hours, and now the sticky, damp feeling clung uncomfortably between your legs. The sudden realization hit you, a wave of disgust washing over you as you winced.

Swallowing hard, you glanced over toward the feminine hygiene aisle. Rows of necessities lined the shelves—pads, tampons, basic supplies—just out of reach. You stared at them, your stomach twisting in knots. It wasn't just food you needed now. You couldn’t go on like this.

But you had no credit cards. No way to purchase anything. Nothing.

Your eyes flicked back toward the front of the store, where the disinterested clerk sat, still engrossed in his phone. He wasn’t paying attention to you. He didn’t care. Nobody here did.

You felt a knot tighten in your throat as the harsh reality of the situation settled in. You had to steal. There was no other choice. You hated the thought of it—hated how low it made you feel—but survival wasn’t a matter of pride. Not here. Not now.

Your fingers trembled as you looked back at the shelves. You knew what you had to do.

The clerk still wasn’t paying attention, his face lit by the glow of his phone. His indifference might be your only saving grace. You could do this—quickly, quietly, and then you’d be gone.

With shaky hands you reach for a plastic bag that had fallen on the ground. The bag felt like a shield, something to hide the weight of what you were about to do. You didn’t think twice as you moved toward the feminine hygiene aisle, knowing you couldn’t walk any further in your current state. You reached for a pack of pads, your movements slow and deliberate. Your heart pounded in your chest, loud enough that it felt like the entire store could hear it.

Next, you hurried down the snack aisle, grabbing a few protein bars, a small bag of chips, and a bottle of water, all of which disappeared into the bag as your pulse raced in your ears.

You glanced toward the counter, your body tense with anxiety. The clerk still hadn’t looked up, completely absorbed in his phone. The faint, unmistakable sound of pornography drifted from his speakers, making your stomach churn in disgust. You twisted your face, feeling a wave of revulsion wash over you, but you couldn’t afford to stop now.

He was utterly oblivious to your frantic movements, his attention locked on the screen, but that didn't ease the gnawing sensation in your gut. Every step felt like you were tiptoeing across a minefield, a ticking clock counting down to disaster. Even though he wasn’t watching, you couldn’t shake the feeling that someone—or something—was.

With the bag now heavy in your hands, you made your way toward the exit, each step carefully measured, your breath shallow as you fought to keep calm. The distance between you and the door seemed endless, as if every inch stretched into miles. But finally, your trembling hand closed around the cold metal of the handle.

Your heart raced as you crossed the threshold, bracing yourself for the inevitable—a shrill, deafening alarm that would shatter the silence and expose your crime to the world. You waited for it, your breath caught in your throat, ready to bolt at the first sound.

But nothing came.

No alarm. No piercing siren. The only thing you could hear was the frantic beating of your own heart as the door swung shut behind you with a quiet click.

For a moment, you stood there, frozen in place, not daring to move. The cool night air brushed against your skin, grounding you in the eerie quiet. The world outside the store felt impossibly still. It took a few seconds for your brain to register that you had made it out—unseen, unheard.

You swallowed hard, keeping your head down as you hurried past the few patrons lingering near the store. Their eyes followed your every step, and you could feel their gazes crawling over you, judging, curious. Did they happen to care, or did you just look that insane?

The woman with the child pulled her daughter closer as you passed, her eyes narrowing in suspicion. The man smoking his cigar gave you a long, leering stare, as if trying to figure out what your story was. The others whispered quietly among themselves, but you couldn’t make out the words, nor did you want to. You kept walking, willing yourself to be invisible, but the tension in the air made your skin prickle.

Once you were a safe distance away from the store, you ducked down an empty alley, the shadows wrapping around you like a cloak. The world outside was still bleak, the flickering streetlights casting only the faintest glow, but here in the quiet, you finally had a moment to breathe.

You found a relatively clean spot, tucked behind an old dumpster, and set the bag down beside you. Your hands shook as you reached into the bag for the pack of pads. The discomfort and itch between your legs had grown unbearable, and the relief of changing, even in such a grim place, was something you couldn't put off any longer.

Quickly, you adjusted yourself, wincing at the feeling of the old pad peeling away. You worked fast, knowing you couldn’t linger here for long. Once you were done, you felt a small sense of relief—at least one problem had been solved.

Next, you pulled out the snacks. The hunger was still clawing at you, and the sight of the protein bars and chips made your stomach ache even more. Tearing into a protein bar, you ate quickly, barely tasting the food as you devoured it, desperate to fuel your exhausted body. The bottle of water came next, and you drank it down in large, gulping swallows.

For the first time since you had escaped, you felt a flicker of calm. It wasn’t much, and it wouldn’t last, but here in this dark corner, with food in your stomach and a small bit of comfort, you allowed yourself a brief moment to breathe.

But the quiet didn’t last. You knew you couldn’t stay hidden forever. You had to get moving at some point or Sylus would find you. This place was unforgiving, and survival demanded more than just temporary refuge.

Tucking the remaining items back into the bag, you sigh in satisfaction, glancing around to make sure no one had followed you. The streets were still empty. For now, you were alone. You had survived one more step in this nightmare, but you knew it wasn’t over yet.

Some time passes and you can slowly feel yourself falling asleep against the dumpster.

As you crouched in the dim alley, trying to fight off exhaustion and gather your thoughts, the sound of footsteps broke the silence. Slow, steady, and casual, accompanied by a faint, off-key whistling. You stiffened, instinctively pulling the bag closer to your chest.

The footsteps stopped just a few feet away, and then came the voice—low, cautious, but curious.

"Hey, you okay?"

You glanced up warily, your eyes landing on the figure standing at the mouth of the alley. He was tall, maybe in his mid-thirties, with shaggy, unkempt brown hair that fell just above his eyes. His clothes were worn—faded jeans and a jacket that had seen better days—but he didn’t look like the rough types you usually imagined when you thought of the N109 Zone. His posture was relaxed, hands tucked casually into his pockets, but his sharp, dark eyes were fixed on you, a flicker of concern—or maybe something else—dancing behind them.

His face was hard to read. He had a slight stubble covering his jaw, giving him a rugged, almost tired appearance. His lips quirked in what might’ve been a faint smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. There was something unsettling about the way he looked at you—like he was curious, but also sizing you up. Not in an aggressive way, but in a way that made you wonder why he’d stopped to talk to you at all.

"Are you... lost?" he asked, stepping forward slowly, the whistling tune dying in the air. His voice was softer now, almost as if he was trying to be gentle, but his presence made the space around you feel even smaller.

"What happened to your arm?"

You swallowed hard, trying your best to keep your gaze on him. You had honestly completely forgotten about the scar on you arm. As much as you wanted to explain, every instinct screamed to stay wary. This wasn’t a place where strangers helped out of kindness, and you knew better than to trust easily. But as exhausted and desperate as you were, you weren’t sure if you could afford to push away help, even from someone who might have their own agenda.

"I—I need help," you stammered, your voice shaky, barely managing to push the words past your tightening throat. Your body trembled, a mix of nerves and exhaustion leaving you on edge. You hugged the bag tighter to your chest, every muscle in your body tense. "But... don't come any closer just yet."

The man's eyes narrowed slightly, his expression shifting, though he made no move forward. He stayed where he was, his hands still in his pockets, the dim streetlight casting long shadows on his face. For a moment, there was silence, the air thick with tension as he watched you.

"Okay," he said finally, his voice calm and even, though the curiosity in his eyes never wavered. He tilted his head, taking in your ragged appearance with a deeper interest. "No problem. I’m not here to scare you. Just trying to figure out what you're doing out here all alone."

You bit your lip, unsure of how to respond. You needed help, but trust was a dangerous thing in a place like this. Still, you were running out of options. Your mind raced as you tried to decide what to say next.

You hesitated, your mind racing as you weighed the risks. Could you trust him? Telling the truth might make you vulnerable, but lying wouldn’t get you far either. You had to say something—anything—to explain why you were here.

"I was kidnapped," you said, the words tumbling out before you could stop them. Your voice wavered, a tremor of fear running through you as you spoke. "I escaped… I don’t know where I am. I just need to get somewhere safe and rest so I can get home later."

The man’s expression shifted slightly, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. He studied you, eyes narrowing as if trying to assess whether or not you were telling the truth. His silence stretched on for what felt like an eternity, making your heart pound faster in your chest.

"You’re serious?" he finally asked, his tone more subdued now, almost disbelieving but not dismissive. He took a small step back, showing that he wasn’t going to invade your space. "You really got away from someone?"

You nodded, the tension in your body still coiled tight, waiting for his reaction. You couldn't tell if he believed you, but you hoped—desperately—that he wouldn’t press too hard or turn you away.

The man stared at you for a moment longer, his eyes scanning your face, as if trying to read the truth in your expression. Finally, he let out a slow breath, his posture softening just slightly.

"Alright," he said, his voice low but firm. "If you're telling the truth... then you’ve got bigger problems than just being lost."

He glanced around, checking the street behind him as if making sure no one else was nearby, then he looked back at you, his face more serious now. "You can’t stay out here. This place— the N109 Zone—it’s not somewhere you want to be wandering around alone, especially if someone’s looking for you."

You felt a shiver run down your spine. You already knew the N109 Zone was dangerous, but hearing it from him made it feel even more real.

"Look," he continued, his voice softening. "I’m not gonna hurt you. If you need help, I can take you somewhere safer. But you’ve gotta trust me, and you’ve gotta move quick. If they’re after you, it’s only a matter of time before they find you out here."

He waited, his eyes searching yours, as if trying to see if you’d accept his offer—or run.

You hesitated for a long moment, scanning the man’s face for any sign of deceit. His expression was calm, almost unnervingly so, but something about his demeanor made you feel that, for now, you didn’t have much of a choice. If he meant harm, he could’ve acted already. Swallowing hard, you nodded.

“Okay,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. “I’ll come with you.”

He nodded in return, offering nothing more than a grunt of acknowledgment before turning and motioning for you to follow. "My place isn’t far. You can rest there, maybe clean up a bit. It’ll give you a few hours before you have to figure out what’s next."

You fell in step behind him, your bare feet quiet against the cracked pavement. The streets were eerily silent, save for the occasional distant hum of passing cars. You hugged the bag closer to your chest, still tense but too tired to think about running. As you walked through the dim streets, a question lingered in the back of your mind.

"I'm surprised you stopped to help me," you finally said, your voice tentative. "Most people here…they wouldn’t have even looked twice."

He glanced back at you, barely breaking stride, and shrugged. "I’ve seen worse things in this place. Trust me, a girl lost in an alley isn't the strangest thing I’ve come across." His tone was casual, almost detached, as if this was just another day in the chaotic world of the N109 Zone.

His nonchalance unnerved you. Why was he so calm? Your anxiety spiked for a moment, thoughts racing. Maybe you had made the wrong choice. Maybe he had his own agenda, like everyone else in this place. But then again, he hadn’t tried to harm you. If he wanted to, he would've done so. You weighed your options, feeling the tug of paranoia, but exhaustion and desperation had their hold. You pushed the doubt aside. For now, you decided to trust him, even if only for a few hours.

As you walked in silence, the two of you eventually came across something you hadn’t expected to see: an old, grimy phone booth, its glass cracked but still intact, standing at the edge of a corner. A relic from another time, long since forgotten by most.

Your heart skipped a beat. A phone. You might be able to call Xavier.

"Do you have any… uh, quarters?" you asked, your voice tight with desperation. You hadn’t thought about it before, but now it seemed obvious. Linkon City had long left behind the need for such old currency—everything there was digital, clean, modern. But here, in the N109 Zone, where everything felt stuck in time, of course they still used quarters. It made sense in this broken-down world.

He stopped, watching you for a moment before sighing. "Yeah, hang on." He fumbled in his pockets for a few seconds, fishing around with a slight look of annoyance. After a bit of clattering, he pulled out a few quarters, handing them over to you without a word.

Your hands trembled as you took them. This could be your chance—your lifeline. You stepped inside the booth, hoping that the old machine would still work, and stared at the dirty receiver.

You stared at the old rotary dial for a moment, panic rising in your chest. You tried to remember how it worked as you slipped the coins in the slot. It had been so long since you’d read about one of these—everything in Linkon was sleek, touch-based, connected by the web. But here, in this forgotten part of the world, you were holding a piece of the past. The process felt foreign, archaic.

Your mind raced, desperately trying to recall Xavier’s number. What was it? You racked your brain, images of his scribbled phone number from messages, fragments of conversations, all blurred together. The numbers danced in your head as you tried to piece them together.

Your heart pounded louder, matching the beat of the seconds slipping away. You were running out of time. With a trembling hand, you began dialing the numbers, trying to focus on every movement, praying you’d gotten it right.

The dial clicked as it spun back after each number, the mechanical sound unnervingly slow. The receiver crackled in your ear as the phone began to ring.

Please, Xavier... please pick up.

The ringing felt endless, each second a heavier weight pressing on your chest. You squeezed your eyes shut, gripping the receiver tight. The noise around you seemed to fade into the background as you waited, hoping, praying that on the other end of the line, he’d be there—ready to hear you, ready to help.

The phone rang again... and again.

Your breath caught in your throat, a prayer hanging on the edge of each ring.

"Hello?" A timid, cautious male voice came through the receiver, muffled by the crackling static, but it was unmistakable.

Relief crashed over you like a wave, and you nearly collapsed right there in the grimy phone booth, your knees buckling as the sound of Xavier's voice reached your ears. After everything—you finally had a connection to him. Tears welled up in your eyes, your breath shaky as you clutched the receiver tighter.

"Xavier!! Xavier, thank god!" you cried, your voice raw with desperation. "I don't even know where to start..."

But after your outburst, only silence greeted you. The line crackled, sputtering with age, the static drowning out whatever response might have come. Frustration surged through you as you gripped the receiver, shaking it in a vain attempt to clear the line. You banged the phone against the booth, biting back a sob as the interference persisted. This thing must be older than you thought. How could it fail you now?

Finally, the crackling stopped, leaving only a tense, quiet hum on the other end.

"Xavier? Is that you??" you asked, your voice trembling, barely holding back the panic. You couldn’t bear the thought of losing this fragile connection—this one thin lifeline.

The line crackled for a moment before Xavier’s voice came through, steady and calm, but with a layer of unmistakable relief.

"It’s you…," Xavier said, his voice soft but firm, as if he’d been holding onto hope for so long that hearing your voice felt like a lifeline. "I’m so glad you’re alive. Are you okay? Where are you?"

The sound of his voice sent another wave of emotion crashing over you. You sob, your body trembling with a mix of exhaustion and relief. For the first time in what felt like forever, you weren’t alone. He had been looking for you, and now, he was coming.

"Xavier…I was kidnapped," you sobbed, the words finally breaking free, the fear and terror of the last few days pouring out. "I escaped. I’m cold, hurt and scared..."

His response was immediate, his tone both calming and steady, as if he was trying to comfort you even from miles away. "I’m here now. I’ve got you. Just breathe, okay? I’m coming for you. I just need a better idea of where you are."

You took a shaky breath, trying to keep it together, but the tears threatened to spill over. "I don’t know where exactly… all I know is I’m in the N109 Zone. I found a phone booth near a corner store. Everything around here looks abandoned."

There was a brief pause on the other end as Xavier processed the information. "Alright," he said firmly. "Stay there, I'll try and track the location of the phone booth. I’m on my way. Just… hold on a little longer, okay?"

"I—" you hesitated for a moment, glancing back toward the man who had helped you. "I actually found a really nice man. He’s letting me rest at his place. He hasn’t hurt me at all, so don’t worry. He says his place isn’t far from here. I’ll come back to the phone and give you the details after I see it."

Xavier’s voice tightened slightly, the concern clear. "I don’t like the sound of that. Just… be careful. I’m coming as fast as I can. Don’t take any unnecessary risks, alright? If anything feels wrong, leave. Fight like hell if you need to."

"I will," you whispered, gripping the receiver tightly. "Just hurry, please."

"I promise I’m coming," Xavier said, his voice steady but laced with urgency. He paused, just for a second, before continuing. "One more thing though—do you remember who took you? I’ll need a name, in case…in case I don't find you when I arrive. I don’t want to lose you again."

Your heart raced as memories of your captor flashed in your mind. "Yeah! His name is S—"

"Your time is up. Please enter more quarters for an additional 3 minutes," the automated voice cut in sharply, drowning out your words.

Panic surged through you. The call had abruptly ended, the receiver in your hand now silent except for the monotonous prompt asking for more coins. You frantically searched your pockets, but you had no more quarters.

"Your time is up. Please enter more quarters for—"

You screamed, the frustration boiling over as you kicked the phone, the clanging metal reverberating through the phone booth. Your hand gripped the receiver so tightly your knuckles lost circulation, and with a final surge of anger, you thrashed against the booth, the tears you’d been holding back now streaming down your face.

"Xavier!?" you yelled into the dead line, your voice cracking with desperation. He had to hear you. He had to. But all that came through was the cold, indifferent tone of the automated voice, endlessly repeating its demand for more quarters, as if mocking your panic.

You slammed the receiver down, the booth suddenly feeling too small, too suffocating. Every second that ticked by was a second lost, a moment Xavier might not know who had taken you, might not know how to find you.

With a deep, shaky breath, you stepped out of the booth, blinking away the tears.

"Do...you have any more quarters?" you ask, more tears threatening to spill from your face at any moment now.

The man outside the phone booth shifted awkwardly and shook his head, his eyes flickering between you and the dark street. He had watched you from the moment you’d rushed into the booth, but now, as you sobbed, his discomfort was clear. He took a slow step forward, clearing his throat, but didn’t say anything at first, unsure of what to do.

"You, uh... you okay?" he asked finally, his voice soft but uneasy. He scratched the back of his neck, glancing around as if he wasn’t used to being in such an emotional situation.

You wiped at your eyes, trying to calm your breathing, but the tears kept coming. The overwhelming frustration of losing the connection with Xavier left you feeling exposed and helpless. You didn’t know what to say to the man, couldn’t find the words to explain the weight of everything crashing down on you at once.

He hesitated, then sighed, taking another step closer. "Look, uh… if it’s about the call, I’m sure your guy’s coming. Sounds like he cares. You just... you know, gotta hang in there. We’ll get to my place soon, and you can rest."

His words, though clumsy, were an attempt at comfort. But even as he tried to reassure you, his uncertainty showed in the way he avoided your gaze, as if he wasn’t quite sure how to handle someone breaking down in front of him.

You sniffed, nodding slightly, feeling drained from the outburst. "Yeah… yeah, I’ll be fine," you muttered, wiping your face with the sleeve of your nightgown, though you weren’t sure you believed it.

The two of you resumed walking, your steps slow and heavy as you sniffled, trying to hold back the tears that still threatened to spill. The man walked beside you, his hands shoved into his pockets, glancing at you now and then with an awkwardness that was hard to miss. He wasn’t saying much, just occasionally looking around as if he wished there was something more he could do, but he seemed completely out of his depth when it came to comforting anyone, let alone a woman on the verge of breaking down.

"You’ll, uh, feel better once we get there," he mumbled, his voice low and sheepish. "It’s not much, but at least you can get some sleep. Maybe eat something."

You nodded, biting your lip as you fought to compose yourself, trying not to let your emotions overwhelm you again. The air between you felt thick, filled with unspoken words and awkward tension. He kept glancing at you as if he wanted to say something more, but each time, he swallowed the words, guiding you quietly through the darkened streets.

The city around you was eerily quiet, the desolation of the N109 Zone even more pronounced in the silence. The flickering streetlights barely illuminated your path, casting long shadows that stretched across the cracked pavement. You hugged your arms close to your body, your mind still reeling from the failed call, but you focused on just putting one foot in front of the other.

The man cleared his throat, his voice hesitant. "I’m… not really good at this kind of thing, you know," he admitted, his tone awkward, almost apologetic. "But you’ll be safe. I’ll make sure of it."

You nodded again, not trusting yourself to speak. His words were clumsy, but there was a strange sincerity in them. Despite his unease, it seemed like he really was trying to help, even if he didn’t quite know how to do it.

As the silence stretched on, the weight of everything hanging between you, you glanced at him through the dim light. His awkwardness, his uncertainty—it was all so clear. But despite everything, he had helped you. He had taken you in when you had nowhere else to go. Given you the last of his quarters. You swallowed, trying to ground yourself in the moment.

"I didn’t catch your name, by the way," you said softly, your voice still a little shaky.

He blinked, as if surprised you’d asked. His steps slowed for a moment before he gave a small, awkward shrug. "Oh, uh, yeah. I guess I didn’t say." He rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes darting to the ground as he seemed to search for the right words. "It’s Reese," he finally muttered. "Not much of a name, but it’s mine."

You offered a small, tired smile, your voice soft. "Reese… thanks for helping me. I don’t know what I would’ve done if—" You stopped yourself, the weight of your situation pressing on your chest again.

He glanced at you from the corner of his eye and gave a sheepish nod. "Yeah, well… I’m no hero. Just didn’t seem right to leave you out there. Not in a place like this."

As the two of you walked in silence, Reese cleared his throat, glancing over at you with a bit more confidence than before. "So… what’s your name? Figured if we’re gonna be walking together, I should know who I’m helping."

You hesitated, your heart racing slightly. Trust wasn’t something you could afford so easily, not here, not now. Despite his awkward attempts to help, you weren’t ready to give him your real name. Better to be cautious, you reminded yourself. You forced a small smile, trying to keep your voice steady.

"It’s...Mephisto," you said, the lie rolling off your tongue before you could second-guess it. You had vaguely remembered Sylus calling out the name to someone from outside the door, to who you weren't sure. One of his men probably.

Reese nodded, seemingly taking your answer at face value, no suspicion in his expression. "Alright," he said, giving a half-smile. "Nice to meet you Miss Mephisto, despite the strange name."

You nodded back, feeling the weight of the lie settle inside you. It wasn’t much, but it gave you a small layer of protection—just in case. You still didn’t know Reese’s full intentions, and trust here could be a dangerous thing.

"Nice to meet you too, Reese," you replied softly, glancing around the darkened street.

After what felt like an eternity of walking through the dark, desolate streets of the N109 Zone, you and Reese finally reached his place. The house stood at the end of a narrow alley, tucked between two crumbling, abandoned buildings. It wasn’t much to look at—dingy, with peeling paint and windows that seemed to have long lost their clarity. The front door sagged slightly on its hinges, the wood scuffed and weathered, as if it had seen better days a long time ago.

Reese unlocked the door with a bit of effort, pushing it open with a low creak. Inside, the air was stale but warm, a stark contrast to the cold outside. The place was small, cluttered, and dimly lit by a single overhead bulb. The furnishings were old, mismatched, and worn—a threadbare couch sat in the corner, covered in a faded blanket. The walls were bare except for a few crooked picture frames, and the carpet looked like it hadn’t been cleaned in years. Still, despite its grimy appearance, there was a strange sense of comfort to the place, like someone had lived here for a long time and had made it home in their own way.

"You can sit over there if you want," Reese said, motioning to the couch. "It’s not much, but it’s better than the streets."

You nodded, stepping inside cautiously. Your eyes scanned the room, taking in the details—the scuffed coffee table with a few empty bottles on it, the stack of old magazines piled up against one wall. It didn’t scream danger, but you couldn’t shake the wary feeling settling in the pit of your stomach. Something about the whole situation made you uneasy. Maybe it was the dim lighting, the smell of old dust, or just the lingering doubt about trusting someone so easily in a place like this.

Still, exhaustion weighed heavily on your body, and the promise of rest—any rest—was too tempting to ignore. You sat down on the couch, the worn cushions sinking under you, and pulled the bag of pads closer to your chest. Reese seemed harmless enough, but you reminded yourself to stay on guard. You weren’t out of danger yet.

Reese busied himself, tossing a few items around to clear space, but the house remained eerily quiet.

As you settled into the couch, trying to make yourself as comfortable as possible, a sudden noise from the backyard broke the uneasy silence. It was faint, but distinct—a thud, followed by the faint sound of something shuffling or dragging. Your heart leapt, and you sat up a little straighter, your eyes darting toward the back of the house.

“What was that?” you asked, your voice tense as you turned to look at Reese.

He froze for a split second, the calm, awkward demeanor you’d come to expect from him faltering. His eyes widened slightly, and he gave a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Oh, that?" he said, his voice higher than usual. "It’s just… my dog. Yeah, he’s in the shed out back. I forgot to mention him earlier."

You watched him closely, feeling the tension spike in the room. There was something off about the way he said it, the quickness in his tone as if he were scrambling to come up with an explanation.

"Your dog?" you repeated, trying to keep your voice steady, though doubt gnawed at the back of your mind.

"Yeah," he said, nodding a bit too enthusiastically. "He’s old, doesn’t like people much, so I keep him out there. No big deal."

His words didn’t do much to settle your nerves. You stared at him for a moment longer, weighing his response, trying to decide if he was telling the truth. The uneasy feeling from earlier returned, stronger this time, creeping up your spine.

"Right," you muttered, still watching him carefully, but you decided not to push further. Not yet.

"Um... coffee?" Reese blurted out suddenly, his voice still laced with that nervous edge. He offered a forced smile, clearly trying to redirect the tension hanging thick in the air. He rubbed his hands together, glancing toward the small, cluttered kitchen. "I could make us some. Might help, you know, after everything you’ve been through."

You hesitated, still on edge from the strange noise outside and his quick, jittery explanation. Something didn’t feel right, but you weren’t sure if pushing him now would help or only make things worse. You forced a smile of your own, your mind still racing with questions.

"Sure," you said quietly, your voice flat as you tried to calm your nerves. "Coffee sounds good."

Reese nodded, too eagerly, and moved toward the kitchen, fumbling with an old coffee pot. The clattering of cups and the rush of water filled the silence, but your mind was still focused on that noise outside. A dog in the shed? It seemed like a weak excuse, but you didn’t know him well enough to push it.

You leaned back into the couch, the worn fabric sinking beneath you as your eyes drifted toward the back door. You couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off, that maybe Reese wasn’t telling you everything. You forced yourself to take a deep breath, trying to keep calm. You were exhausted, but you couldn't let your guard down.

Reese finished brewing the coffee after a few moments, bringing it over to you in a green, cracked mug. You took it from him with a polite smile, setting it down on the coffee table untouched. The steam curled up from the cup, filling the small room with the faint scent of stale coffee. Reese sat across from you, sipping from his own mug, but you couldn’t help but notice how distracted he seemed.

He kept glancing toward the window, then back at his watch, over and over. Each time, his face tensed a little more, as though he were expecting something—or someone. Your wariness only grew.

What is he looking for?

The air felt thick with unspoken tension, and your mind raced, trying to piece together what was happening. You couldn’t shake the feeling that the noise in the backyard wasn’t as innocent as he’d made it sound.

"So…uh, what’s your dog’s name?" you asked, trying to keep up the conversation and maybe get him to reveal more. Your voice was casual, but inside, your nerves were on high alert.

"Dog? What dog?" Reese said absentmindedly, his eyes still glued to the window. His response was automatic, dismissive, as if he hadn’t even registered the question.

"You...said that noise earlier was your dog? Right?"

A few moments passed in uncomfortable silence, and then you saw it—realization hit him like a brick. His eyes widened as he turned to look at you, panic flickering across his face.

You sat up straighter, your heart starting to race. He’d lied. And now he knew you knew.

"Uh, I mean—" he stammered, his voice shaky, "I meant, uh, Rex. Yeah, his name’s Rex. Sorry, I’m just… distracted." He forced a weak smile, but the panic was still there, clear as day. He wasn’t fooling anyone.

You shifted uncomfortably, the tension in the room thickening with every second that passed after Reese's panicked slip. His eyes kept darting between you and the window, as if something outside demanded his attention. Your pulse quickened as the uneasy feeling deepened. Something wasn’t right, and you knew you had to get out of there.

"I should…go," you said, forcing a smile as you slowly stood up, trying to keep your voice casual. "Y'know... Xavier’s probably found the phone booth by now. I should go back and meet him."

Reese blinked, his expression tightening for a split second. The forced calm he'd been trying to maintain wavered as he set his mug down on the table a little too quickly, the clink of the ceramic against wood echoing in the silence. "Go? Already?" He scratched the back of his neck again, his voice strained. "I mean, it’s cold, and it’s not safe out there… Maybe you should wait a little longer."

You swallowed hard, feeling the anxiety rising in your chest. Every instinct told you to get out, but you had to keep your cool. "Thanks for the coffee and everything, but I don’t want Xavier to worry," you replied, taking a step toward the door. "I’ll be fine. I’ve been through worse, remember?"

Reese stood up as well, his movements stiff, like he was trying to decide whether to stop you. His gaze flickered toward the window again, and his voice dropped. "Yeah, I get it. But, uh… maybe just a few more minutes. You don’t want to be out there alone, do you?"

You glanced toward the door, your heart pounding in your chest. The unease that had been lurking beneath the surface now felt like a solid weight pressing down on you. Something was very wrong, and you needed to leave—now.

"No, I’m leaving. Thank you for everything, but I need to go," you said, your voice steady despite the panic bubbling under the surface. You tried to move past Reese, your eyes focused on the door, your heart pounding with the hope of reaching it before things got worse.

But then Reese stepped in front of you, his whole demeanor changing in an instant. "No," he said flatly, his voice suddenly devoid of the awkwardness and sheepishness he’d shown before. His tone was cold, almost emotionless, as he closed the distance between you with startling speed.

Before you could react, you felt it—the cold press of metal against your neck. Your breath caught in your throat, and your body froze as the unmistakable sensation of a gun pressed hard into your skin.

"You're not going anywhere," he hissed, his voice low and menacing. His earlier nervousness was completely gone, replaced by something dark and dangerous. "Sit back down."

Your heart raced, your mind scrambling for a way out, but all you could feel was the sharp edge of fear coursing through you. You swallowed hard, trying not to move too quickly, knowing that with one wrong step, things could spiral even further out of control.

"Reese… please," you whispered, barely able to keep your voice from shaking. "You don’t have to do this."

His eyes flickered with something—anger, desperation—but his grip on the gun didn’t waver. "Just sit down, and no one has to get hurt."

Your mind raced, searching for a way out, but for now, all you could do was comply and hope that Xavier was still coming for you.

"I promised them a girl..." Reese muttered, his voice trembling slightly, though the gun still pressed firmly against your neck as you looked up at him from the couch. He glanced away from you, his guilt briefly flickering in his eyes. "Then you just... happened to be there. Right place, wrong time, I guess. So...this is how it has to be."

His words hung in the air, cold and final.

"I’m sorry," he added, though there was no comfort in his apology—just a hollow attempt at easing his own conscience.

Your breath hitched as you tried to process his words, the full weight of the situation crushing down on you. He wasn’t just some awkward guy helping you out of kindness. He had been waiting for someone—anyone—to fill a promise. And you had walked right into it.

As you stood there, your heart pounding in your chest, the cold barrel of the gun pressed against your neck, the door creaked open. Another man stepped into the room. He was taller than Reese, with a thick, rough appearance—his face shadowed by the dim light. His eyes swept the room, landing on you, taking in the situation with a detached indifference.

"Is this the girl you promised?" the man asked, his voice low and gruff, as if he’d been through this kind of scene too many times to be surprised by it. His gaze shifted briefly to Reese, then back to you, narrowing with interest.

You felt a chill run down your spine as his question hung in the air.

Reese didn’t move the gun from your neck, but you could feel the tension in his body shift as he glanced over at the man, clearly nervous about his arrival. "Yeah, this is her," Reese replied, his voice tight. "I just… need a few more minutes to get her to cooperate."

The other man stepped closer, his boots heavy on the floor. His eyes raked over you, cold and calculating. "No time for that," he said flatly. "Get her in the basement. You know how this works, Reese."

Your pulse quickened, fear gripping you tighter as you looked from one man to the other, your mind spinning with panic. What were they planning? You needed to find a way out, and fast, before things escalated even further.

"You’re making a mistake," you said, your voice shaking despite your best efforts to stay calm. "Someone’s coming for me. If you don’t let me go, it���s going to get a lot worse for both of you."

As the weight of your words hung in the air, you weren’t even sure who you were referring to in that moment—Sylus, the man who had kidnapped you in the first place, or Xavier, the one coming to save you. Both names were tangled up in your desperation, your mind too frantic to distinguish between them. All you could do was hope that the threat would ring true, that it would be enough to make Reese think twice.

The taller man smirked, clearly unimpressed. "We’ll see about that," he muttered, turning his back toward the door to pull up the carpet, leaving you alone with Reese and the gun still pressed to your neck. You watch as a metal trap door with a handle is revealed to have been hidden under the carpet and you gasp.

Instinct kicked in, and without thinking, you twisted suddenly, using the brief distraction in Reese’s hesitation to try and break free. You shoved his arm away with everything you had, knocking the gun off balance. For a moment, you thought you had a chance, adrenaline flooding your body as you fought with all the strength you could muster.

"Let go of me!" you screamed, thrashing and kicking as hard as you could. Your elbow connected with Reese's side, and he let out a sharp grunt, but his grip tightened. His face twisted in a mixture of frustration and fear, and he fought back, grabbing your arm and wrenching you toward him.

"Stop it!" Reese growled, struggling to maintain control, but you weren’t going down without a fight. You kicked at his legs, but his hold on you only grew stronger.

The door to the basement creaked open, and before you could react, the taller man reappeared, grabbing you by the other arm. His grip was like iron, and between the two of them, they overpowered you. Your heart pounded as you screamed and clawed, your feet scraping against the floor, but the force of their combined strength was too much.

"No! Please—" you gasped, trying to twist free, but they dragged you toward the open door.

The tall man grunted with effort as they forced you toward the dark, looming stairwell. "Get her down there already," he growled, his tone sharp and impatient.

You struggled even harder, but your muscles were weakening, the adrenaline starting to fade as fear took over. They shoved you roughly down the narrow staircase, and you stumbled, catching yourself against the damp wall. The dimness of the basement swallowed you whole, the air cold and musty. You could feel the fear wrapping around you, tighter with each step they forced you to take.

The taller man was close behind, his heavy footsteps echoing in the cold, damp basement. You felt his rough hand grab the bottom of your nightgown, his fingers curling into the fabric. Panic surged through you as his cold hand snaked across your belly, the touch sending a shiver of disgust up your spine.

You screamed, thrashing wildly against his grip, but his strength overpowered you. The man leaned in, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, "Wouldn't hurt to try her out before the boss gets here..." His voice was thick with lust, and his eyes gleamed with a hunger that turned your stomach.

His hand slid lower, his fingers beginning to snake inside your underwear. You could feel his hard on pressed against your backside. Fear and revulsion took over, and you knew you had to do something—anything—to stop him.

Thinking fast, you blurted out the first thing that came to your mind, your voice desperate and shaking. "I'm bleeding! I'm on my period!"

The words seemed to stop him in his tracks. His hand paused, the twisted hunger in his eyes faltering for a moment as confusion flickered across his face.

"You’re what?" he muttered, his brow furrowing. His grip loosened just slightly, enough for you to take a sharp breath, your heart still racing.

"I’m on my period," you repeated, your voice trembling. "It’s—it’s bad. You don’t want to do this right now."

For a brief second, his disgusted expression told you that he was weighing his options. The thought of period blood clearly repulsed him, and his hand slowly pulled away from your underwear, his lips curling in frustration.

"You’re lucky," he growled, wiping his hand on his pants, his face twisted with disdain. "But don’t think that saves you."

His hand shot up before you could react, grabbing a fistful of your hair and dragging you across the rough concrete floor toward the makeshift shower installed in the corner of the basement. Your scalp throbbed with each pull, the pain sharpening with every step, but you bit your lip, refusing to cry out.

He threw you against the cold, damp wall, the chill seeping through the thin fabric of your nightgown. You barely had time to catch your breath before he twisted the rusty shower handle. Water burst from the nozzle, freezing and unforgiving.

“So filthy,” he sneered, standing over you as the icy water soaked your clothes, plastering them to your skin. “Maybe this will help?"

The cold bit into your bones, and you hugged yourself, trembling, struggling to stay upright as the water pounded down. He stood there a moment longer, watching with twisted satisfaction, before finally turning away, leaving you shivering on the cold, wet floor of the basement.

Sobbing on the cold, unforgiving basement floor, you shiver, your body pressed against the damp concrete, each breath heavy with despair. The chill seeps into your skin, a numbing cold that echoes the hollow ache inside you. Your tears fall, silent and unnoticed, merging with the grime beneath you as exhaustion pulls you deeper into its grip. In the silence, a desperate wish slips through your mind for someone to save you—anyone, even him.

Though Sylus had stolen you away, his presence now haunts you like a ghost. In this unbearable solitude, even the memory of him feels like a twisted solace. You long for his shadow, for those red, gleaming eyes that once pierced through the darkness, and his stark white hair, a glimmer against the void.

At least he gave you warm baths.

The thought slips through your mind, shame twisting in your chest. How could you even think of Sylus now, when poor Xavier was likely out there, rushing to save you, unaware of the torment you’re enduring? Guilt coils around you, tightening with every heartbeat, yet you can’t shake the cruel comfort of that memory. Sylus, for all the wrong he had done, had never left you to freeze, never left you to shiver and break alone.

Your vision blurs as the weight of everything crushes you, and you can almost see him—an apparition of salvation in your mind. His image flickers, vivid and sharp, as your consciousness begins to fray at the edges. The world slips away, piece by piece, and the cold wraps tighter around you.

The cold water finally stops.

In this fading moment, you cling to that impossible hope, that he, with his red eyes and cold hands, might come for you—if only to save you from a fate worse than death.

[lonelywretchjervistetch]

The State Birds Initiative: Connecticut (#5)

Hoo boy, it's been a minute! But hey, here we are again, after taking some extra time to figure stuff out. Welcome to the fifth official poll of the State Birds Initiative! Before the poll, though, one thing real quick. My suggestion is that you read the post below before voting in the poll below. That's especially important if you're lacking any context about the birds being presented as the new (or old) State Bird of the Nutmeg State, Connecticut. This is to be fully informed as to why these are being presented, and to make your choices appropriately. Lastly, some of these birds, you will notice, may go against some of the rules listed in the introduction post. All is explained after the jump where the explanations are, I promise you that. And apologies in advance, the spiel before the actual bird selection is...long. But with that...OK! Here's the poll!

Welcome to the Nutmeg State! A small state, mostly known for being between Boston and New York City, this is one of the foundational states of southern New England, while also having a somewhat...divided identity, we'll say. So, I grew up in CT, for part of my childhood, in both the classic upscale suburbs, and in the middle of the goddamn woods, right on the Connecticut River. For the record, the name "Nutmeg State" is based off of salesmen from the state known for peddling nutmegs. However, there's some speculation that the nutmegs sold were actually made of wood, but that's also probably from people who didn't know that nutmegs were supposed to be grated, and instead assumed they had to be cracked like walnuts. They tried, that failed, and they accused Connecticut Yankees for selling fake nutmeg as a result. So, yeah, a confusing legend at the root of the state's nickname.

You'll notice my use of the word "Yankee" there. Well, despite New York's domination of the term, it should arguably be most associated with Connecticut. "Yankee Doodle" is literally the state song; people from CT were previously and historically referred to as Yankees (which was also an epithet applied to northerners in general, to be fair); and it's actually possible the word was first used by the Dutch in reference to Connecticut settlers, according to multiple theories and historical references. But maybe most prominently, Yankee was used as a demonym for people from CT by one of its most favorite residents: Samuel Clemens, AKA Mark Twain.

Twain is, of course, Connecticut's most famous author, having written some of his most famous works while living with his family in Connecticut in his West Hartford house (which every central Connecticut middle school kid has been to at least once, I guaran-goddamn-tee it). Fun fact, though! Did you know...uh...ah, fuck it. Why keep stalling at this point? Look, as much as I love talking about Mark Twain, he was nothing to do with this post. Fact of the matter is...this was a hard one.

Look, I love Connecticut. It was the first state I remember living in, having moved there when I was a kid from the United States Virgin Islands, which I had been really looking forward to for a bunch of reasons. Admittedly (and unsurprisingly), a lot of that was because I was looking forward to seeing the birds! As a kid, I was also obsessed with birds, and I had never seen the birds in the US mainland before. It was an exciting time for me, and I honestly enjoyed growing up in CT, for the most part. I'd be there for almost 6 years of my life, and I have a lot of fond memories of the state. But, uh...ironically enough...finding State Bird nominees for Connecticut has been HARD AS HELL.

We will, of course, talk in GREAT detail about the American Robin (Turdus migratorius), as it's an important bird for more states than just Connecticut, but I'll give you a spoiler now: this is a boring choice for a State Bird. For any state. Don't get me wrong, I love robins! They're an extremely charismatic and iconic bird, and everybody has seen them at least once in their life if they live in the USA. They're also most likely an early bird (pun slightly intended) for people to encounter on a personal standpoint. Again, we'll get to them, but they're a notable entry in this list. And if one of the states kept the American Robin, I would understand. But, uh...is that state Connecticut?

OK, let's look at the state in the same vein as we have others. I'm sure this won't be the last difficult state to examine in the future of this project, so why not do the same here? Starting with habitat, Connecticut is another state placed within the Northeastern Coastal Zone, with a ton of deciduous forests dominated by oak, chestnut, hemlock, and white pine. There was a lot of clearance during early settlement and beyond, but succession has taken over in recent years to grow the forests back. The state's cut in half by the Connecticut Valley, with large floodplains dominated by maple and cottonwood, with the large Connecticut River right in the center of the valley. Finally, the Berkshires in the northwest corner of the state give us some classic New England flair with sugar maple (Acer saccharum), ash, beech, birch, oak, and hemlock trees on higher-altitude slopes, creating a hilly area that turns beautiful colors in fall. Man, I love Connecticut autumns. And the rest of the year, for that matter.

OK, what are Nutmeggers most known for, culturally and historically? It's a diverse state with a lot of mixed culture, partially as a result of its proximity to New York City. A lot of people tend to joke that Connecticut is just New York City, especially people from elsewhere in New England. And having been to NYC a lot when I was a kid, with a mom who worked there part of the week, and an aunt who lived there all of the week...yeah, fair. But Connecticut has a much more detailed culture than that. It's the home of the cotton giiiAAAAAAH, bad place to start that list. Uh, let's see, it's the home of whaliiiiiiing. Jesus. Uh...home of Mark Twain and Harriet Beecher Stowe? OK, that's better. It's a major seat of the Industrial Revolution in the United States, leading to it being a production hub for textiles, clocks, typewriters, machining, sewing machines, steam engines, aircraft, and honestly, women's rights to a certain degree. After all, it's the home of the Radium...Girls. Huh. OK, CT's history has some bumps in it, but what state's history doesn't?

As for modern Nutmeggers, they're industrious, generally well-educated, and honestly quite a bit eccentric. I've gone back to the state a few times in the last couple of years, and I forgot how honestly weird people are there. In a good way, not in the fucked-up MAGA sense of the word. It's a state whose people are unafraid to express themselves, from my experience. Probably a result of the diversity in the state, and the diverse perspectives that result. Its political atmosphere is a bit complicated, but overall pretty liberal. Which...doesn't translate super-well into birds at first blush, but hey, we'll see what we get!

OK, with that, let's jump into the selection of the birds for this list. Real talk, if anybody has a suggestion that I hadn't brought up here, send it my way! I will absolutely add another poll if there are entries I think could bear fruit. But, in the meantime, read on if you're interested in the possible choices for the State Bird of Connecticut!

American Robin (Turdus migratorius)

I think you'd be hard-pressed to find an citizen of the United States of America who hasn't seen a robin. This is, by far, one of our most iconic songbirds, and is certainly one of the most common and widespread. For some of us, they're a sign of spring. For others, they used to be a sign of spring, until global warming prompted some individuals to stick around through the winter, shifting their diet to frugivory a bit more and brightening the snow as well. They're prolific breeders with bright blue-green eggs (which are iconic in their own right), and can have up to three broods in a given season! Extremely successful and very common. And that...is a problem, for our purposes.

See, Connecticut, Michigan, and Wisconsin have the American Robin (Turdus migratorius) for their state bird, and none of them actually have a good reason for that choice. In Wisconsin, it was chosen by schoolkids because it was recognizable. That was also the reason for the Michigan Audubon Society to choose it as state bird. And Connecticut? Absolutely no goddamn idea. It's almost certainly for the same reason, but there is no real recorded reason for the choice of the American Robin as a state bird, as far as I can tell. For literally all of those states, it's a pretty bad choice by virtue of not being a good choice, at the very least. But that said...I mean, it's not the worst possible choice for a State Bird. For one state, anyway.

Robins, for the record, were named after a different robin entirely: the European Robin (Erithacus rubecula). Another red-breasted and beloved songbird, the European Robin was an immediate thought when American settlers saw the American Robin, hence why I keep saying "American". The two are so often confused in pop-culture, even Mary Poppins was guilty of it! That GIF above comes from the film, and in case you haven't realized it yet, that's an American Robin in England. Yeah. Wrong bird to use as a model for your animatronic, Disney. That has bothered me since I was a little kid, I swear to GOD. Erroneous film biogeography is one of my biggest pet peeves...but that's a separate conversation.

Back to the American Robin. Personally, I love robins of all species, and even recently did some genomics work with them (DNA extraction is fun). They're a commonly seen species, and a great entry-level bird for kids to get into birdwatching and nature. As an American icon, I genuinely think these guys should get some recognition...but I'm hard-pressed to say Connecticut needs them as a State Bird. We'll see what people think, but there's not a great case for them to get the title. To keep it...like I said, we'll see. Maybe the others won't be deemed as good a fit for the state. For now, let's move on from a popular backyard bird to a MUCH less popular one.

Blue-winged Warbler (Vermivora cyanoptera)

Here's the eBird pick for Connecticut, and for good reason! The vast majority of the Blue-winged Warbler's (Vermivora cyanoptera) breeding population is in...Wisconsin. Wait, what? Hold on...yeah, actually, Wisconsin, New York, Missouri, Ohio, Pennsylvania, and West Virginia all have higher shares of the population that Connecticut, with 5% overall. That's still a lot better than the American Robin's share in CT (0.2%), but still...seems like that eBird article is SEVERELY outdated, or I'm using the database wrong somehow. Either way...huh. Well, let's make an argument for the Blue-winged Warbler, anyway.

Blue-winged Warblers are a species of some conservation concern, making them automatically of interest. They're also extremely interesting to geneticists and ornithologists because of their relationship to other members of Vermivora, especially the Golden-wined Warbler (Vermivora chrysoptera) and extinct Bachman's Warbler (Vermivora bachmanii), with having documented hybrid offspring with the former that's of interest for various reasons. But outside of that, they of course breed in Connecticut, and represent an interesting bird to look for and find, with a recognizable song and appearance. It's also prized by birdwatchers, and would be a good bird for any aspiring or experienced birdwatchers. It also inhabits shrubland, which is of some conservation interest to CT government and environmental officials. But other than that...not too much else.

Connecticut Warbler (Oporornis agilis)

No. Look, I'm just gonna say this now: no. The Connecticut Warbler (Oporornis agilis) not only doesn't breed in the state (and possibly has never bred in the state), but it's pretty much not found there. Like, at all. This is not an easy warbler to get anywhere in its range in the US, but Connecticut isn't included in that distribution. "But lonelywretch," you scream at your computer screen, "why is it called the Connecticut goddamn Warbler if it isn't even from the state?" First of all, not to police your emotions, but stop screaming; way overboard for this situation. Second of all, it's called the Connecticut Warbler because its describer, ornithologist Alexander Wilson, first saw it in a fly-by during migration while in Connecticut. And...yeah, that's it. They do fly through the state very occasionally during migration, but it's definitely not a reliable bird to count on for local birders there. Honestly...bad bird for the state.

Side note here: there's a lot of talk about renaming birds that are named after people, and I agree with that in almost every case. But here's a hot take to elaborate on in another series: location-based names need to be re-examined. Not all of them are bad by any means, but the Connecticut Warbler is a great example of a bird whose name makes NO FUCKING SENSE. Rename this bird, I BEG of you. If anybody has suggestions for a renaming of this bird, throw them in notes for something! Keep in mind, Gray-headed Warbler is taken (by Myiothlypis griseiceps), so come up with somethin' else. Warranted inclusion in the list for its name, but we're gonna move on.

Osprey (Pandion halieetus)

It's at this point in the list where we get into some interesting candidates...and where I had the most trouble. But I'm fairly satisfied with what I've come up with, so let's move forward! This entry's a somewhat controversial pick for a few reasons, but an interesting one for a bunch of reasons. Now, I don't know about you, but I love Osprey (Pandion halieetus) a whole bunch. An iconic raptor, as well as a very unique one, they're a pescivorous bird found throughout the entire continent. And in Europe. And Asia. And Africa, Australia, and South America. Yeah, they're a cosmopolitan species, found in every continent except for Antarctica. That automatically should make them a bit dodgy of a choice for a State Bird, since they can be found in every state (yes, even occasionally Hawaii). So, why Connecticut?

First off, Connecticut has an intimate connection with the shore and rivers, especially the Connecticut River. Seemingly a loose reason, but the Osprey, AKA the river hawk or sea hawk (we'll get to that later) is an iconic riparian raptor, and a common sight in Connecticut. Having grown up on a river in the state, we used to see Osprey all the time, and it was awesome every time. But their commonness in the state is an important story in and of itself. And, if you know anything about Osprey at all, you know where this is headed. And Connecticut is a great example of this story.

The Osprey is one of the most iconic victims of the DDT crisis that hit the country, as well as a symbol of the environmental success story that resulted from its banning. I won't go into the full story if you haven't heard it, but the short of it is that the pesticide DDT was inadvertently ingested by fish-eating raptors, especially the Bald Eagle (Halieetus leucocephalus) and the Osprey, causing the eggs they laid to have weakened, soft shells. This caused a massive decrease in these and other species, nearly driving both into extinction. However, once environmental movements prompted by Rachel Carson and her book Silent Spring advocated for its eventual banning, the populations recovered. And in Connecticut, they've recovered A LOT.

In 1940, somewhere near 1,000 nests were recorded for Osprey between New York City and Boston. By 1970, the number in Connecticut was down...to 8. Jesus Christ, that's a hell of a crash! One of the worst in the country, in fact. However, today in Connecticut, there are 688 active nests in the state. Which, yeah, doesn't seem like the ultimate success compared to previous, but what's interesting is the rate of increase. Because in 2014, according to the Connecticut State Audubon, there were only 210. In ten years, the number of breeding ospreys known was more than tripled. That's incredible. This has quickly made the Osprey a symbol of conservation in the state, because of a massive amount of monitoring increase. There are states with more of a population, but Connecticut has a pretty good argument for having the Osprey. But that said...other states could also claim this species. Florida and Maryland definitely have claims on it for population size alone, not to mention, well...the most iconic state of all when it comes to having ospreys as a symbol. But we'll get to that one WAY later. just keep that in mind before you vote for Connecticut to have the Osprey.

Sharp-shinned Hawk (Accipiter striatus)

The Sharp-shinned Hawk (Accipiter striatus OR Astur striatus as of recent taxonomic proposals), on the other hand, is another bird of interest. The smallest hawk in the United States of America, this already seems a fitting choice for one of the smallest states in the country. It's listed as endangered in the state, immediately making it of interesting conservation focus. The reason for this status is likely because of window-strikes, which are common for the species in Connecticut, meaning that there's some public outreach needed to protect it. Protecting the forests they nest in (which are in danger) is one thing, but putting up protective window decals to help the species is another. Definitely a cause for focus.

However, there is one...minor detail that makes this a harder fight for public opinion, as well as a potentially ironic one. This is the first species we've discussed whose diet is basically exclusively birds. If you're in the Northeastern United States, and you've seen a bird get attacked and taken at your birdfeeders, it's almost certainly this guy. Which is cool, and important for the species' survival, but the average person being asked to protect a bird that kills other birds, especially birds like the American Robin, is...a palpable irony. Granted, it genuinely needs protecting, and has monitoring programs in the state, and it is a genuinely interesting raptor! But, this is a slightly harder fight to win because of that noncharismatic factor. But hey, it's a cool bird in genuine trouble in the state, it's a scrappy bird for a small state, and it's an interesting species to highlight!

American Black Duck (Anas rubripes)

This is another difficult bird to fight for, but one that needs attention, for God's sake. The American Black Duck (Anas rubripes) is a rapidly disappearing duck species, and not for the reason you think. Let's get to Connecticut representation first. It was the first bird to be used for the Connecticut Migratory Duck Stamp in 1993, the first one issued for the state. It's one of the few states in which it breeds (although it's not the primary state of focus, detracting from its candidacy). And, it's a controlled bird by Fish and Game, meaning hunting of the Black Duck is extremely limited. There is, surprisingly, a point to that statement, but I won't be elaborating here. We'll see how the vote goes, and I'll address it in the Results post.

So, why is this a potential issue? Well, Maine and New York arguably should get this bird instead, as they have a higher population. And the breeding population of this bird is incredibly important to promote, because it's disappearing. Why is it disappearing? Well, some of you may have looked at that picture and asked yourselves: "Wait...isn't that just a female Mallard?" And the answer is, no! But a lot of people think that. A lot of birds think that. Mallards think that. Which means that hybrids between Mallards and Black Ducks are incredibly high. SO high, in fact, the species is being bred and hybridized out of existence! They're so similar to Mallards on a genetic level at this point, that they'll be subsumed if their individual populations aren't preserved. So, yeah, these guys deserve some focus. Do I think they're a great Connecticut symbol? Well, to be fair, the state is regularly assumed to be either greater New York City or greater Massachusetts by outsiders. And it's not; it has its own identity that deserves to be preserved for what it is. So, yeah, maybe a good fit for Connecticut after all.

Also, it's the state in New England with the highest proportion of Black Americans (yes, even more than Massachusetts), so...I dunno, that's also something? Probably not, but as a black dude that grew up in CT, I felt the need to bring that up.

Snowy Egret (Egretta thula)

OK, sing it with me now!

Yankee Doodle went to town, a-riding on a pony; Stuck a feather in his hat, and called it "macaroni"! Yankee Doodle, give it up! Yankee Doodle Dandy, Mind the music and the step, and with the girls be handy!

Ooh, that last line aged a little rough, but Yankee Doodle! The Connecticut state anthem! Yes, really. Most Americans in the Northeast know this song, but it's got a unique resonance for Nutmeggers, seeing as it was allegedly based on the son of a Connecticut mayor! The state chose it as their song in 1978, and it's been a beloved symbol ever since. But, for the uninitiated (and probably to most school kids like I was), there is one weird word in there that needs a little explanation: macaroni.

Now, this does not, of course, reference the easy cheesy favorite of every child (and college student). No, this is a reference to an old 18th century term for a form of fashion back in the day. It's what the 2000s called "extra", or bourgeious (pronounced "bougie", of course). Basically, it's somebody who dressed WAY over the top in high-designed clothes and accessories to the point of looking...well, extra. Another applicable 2000s term would be "metrosexual", I guess. The macaroni became a satirical character in British culture, and would later become another character known as the "dandy". It's sort of a class-related satire, to be honest. In any case, the macaroni was known for over-the-top fashion, including...wigs.

So, what does literally any of this have to do with the Snowy Egret (Egretta thula)? More than you'd expect, actually. First off, the egret has a pompodour-like crest of feathers that makes it look quite like a stereotypical macaroni, in my opinion. Secondly, it does breed in Connecticut, albeit extremely rarely, sparely, and barely. Its population in the state used to be a lot greater...until people came around and starting hunting it down. Why, you ask?

Let's just go ahead and call that macaroni now, while we're at it. To be clear here, quite a lot of birds were used in millinery back in the day, but the Snowy Egret (and the Great Egret (Ardea alba), for that matter) are special. Those long white feathery plumes were heavily prized as hat decorations, enough so that the species nearly went extinct from hunting them for the hat trade. As a result of that, people began to turn their eye towards conservation of the species, and the protection of birds in general. Two women, Harriet Hemenway and Minna B. Hall, got a group of women together to protect the birds. They rallied the troops, and their organization became fairly popular. Eventually when they sought to name it, they did so after one of the most famous ornithologists in American history at the time: John James Audubon. And from there...well, you can guess.

The Audubon Society is one of the premiere bird conservation organizations in the world, and especially in the United States, and is well-known to the public sector. And it was born right here in...Massachusetts. Oh. Wait, have I jumped the gun on this one? Maybe a little, yeah. But, in my defense, the macaroni is linked to Connecticut through its state anthem, and the Snowy Egret is linked to the macaroni, as mentioned. But, OK, maybe this is a better proposal for Massachusetts, not Connecticut. But, uh...there may be another contender. Kind of.

Tufted Titmouse (Baeolophus bicolor)

OK, here me out on this one. Look at this picture of a classic macaroni character (on the right, for the record). Does that hairdo not kinda look like the crest of the Tufted Titmouse (Baeolophus bicolor)? Like, just a little bit, at least? I dunno, I can definitely see it. But OK, outside of that, is there another reason for the Tufted Titmouse to be the State Bird of Connecticut? Well, they're extremely common, they've got some charisma to them, and they're definitely found breeding in Connecticut. But...I don't know. I think they're plenty charismatic, but I'm not sure that makes them a great contender.

Still...they should be represented somewhere, right? I mean, the species breeds entirely in the USA, even though it can be found in Canada as well. Plus, other than being very recognizable, they're also an easy bird to find and support with backyard birdfeeding. And, if you want a fun fact about them, they're prone to kleptotrichy. That means, they pluck the fur from mammals to use as insulation in their nests! Yeah! They actually pick the winter coat off of dogs, and use it for their nests! Adorable. But yeah, does this really count for a good State Bird of Connecticut? I doubt it, but I'll let you vote! And I swear to God, it better not be just because of the name that it gets votes.

There you have it. Some complex and controversial choices. I miss any that you think are a valid choice for the state? Do let me know, and I may just issue another poll if this one isn't good enough. We shall see. But, for now, I think it's time to move onto the next state. And lemme tell you, I'm real excited about that one, since...well, I live there! And I have some ideas, lemme tell you. And some people will...disagree with me. For sure. Anyway, see you next time in Boston, kid!

See you next time, and happy birding!

[chestcongestion]

The Electrical Entomologist: Ha//zbin Ho/tel

Here we go, a Sta/tic/mo/th fic with Fetish! Vo/x and a sick, cranky Va/len/tino... I had quite a bit of fun with this one and I hope you enjoy it!

Word Count: 4,654

Content Warnings: Actual Sex, Masturbation, Vo/x being a creepy pervert

Vox was a very attentive, controlling, detail-oriented man.

When he wasn’t preoccupied with his work, Vox would sit in his surveillance room and stare slack-jawed at the citizens of Pentagram City, analyzing their every move and adding it to a database inside of his mind. 

“Okay, shipment of new VoxTech cameras is coming in through the receiving bay,” Vox mumbled to himself, scanning the massive wall of screens with his all-seeing eyes, “Papermint is heading upstairs with my dry cleaning-” 

“I-Ihh’PTsShheww!” 

Vox’s heart nearly stopped, as his focus zeroed in on one of the hidden cameras he had in Valentino’s studio- one that was tucked away on a bookshelf in his private dressing room.

Valentino seemed almost bewildered and puzzled by the sneeze that just erupted from him, but brushed it off just as quickly, as though it was nothing. 

Vox knew better, after years of watching Valentino in patient silence, he’d learned his other half’s patterns and had them memorized to perfection. 

The way Val seemed to hang onto the tail end of that sneeze, that lingering itch that didn’t want to vanish after a sharp two-syllable sneeze, it was all too familiar. It was the ‘fluke, out-of-nowhere’ warning sneeze Valentino always let out when he caught a cold, almost as if the infection was growing roots, getting comfortable for the long ride ahead. 

Vox felt a slow trickle of warm drool leak from his mouth until it formed a puddle on the surface of his desk. 

Later that day, while the Vees were out at a fancy restaurant having dinner, Vox couldn’t help but laser focus on Valentino’s mannerisms as he puffed on a cigarette and took a few sips from his glass of ice water. 

‘No cocktail… another tally for the board, he always seems to wean himself off of his vices, like his body knows he’s getting sick before he does’ 

Vox tried his hardest not to stare, but Valentino’s adam’s apple bobbed up and down twice, then again a third time before the moth took a cautious sip of his water. 

‘He’s swallowing, his throat is probably so dry and scratchy… I wonder if he’s going to-’ 

As if on cue, Valentino shifted in his seat on the other side of the booth, scrolling through his phone with one hand while another found its resting place at the base of his neck, gently caressing his throat. 

Vox’s mouth began to water as he drummed his fingers against the table, briefly looking away and pretending to check his watch. 

“Where the fuck is the waitress with our food?! It’s been forty minutes,” Valentino complained, bouncing his left leg underneath the table and taking another long drag from his cigarette, letting out a billowing plume of heart-shaped smoke. 

Vox crossed the fingers on his left hand, going back to staring at Valentino’s neck with a sense of carnal desire. 

Two seconds later, Val ashed what was left of his cigarette, his eyes twitching as he muffled a cough behind clenched teeth.

“Fuck me- Khff! khff!- I need to get a new box of cigarettes, they rolled these too loose, they’ve been making me cough all day,” Valentino grumbled, taking a slow sip of his water. 

Vox simply nodded, his thoughts racing as he watched Val try another experimental swallow. 

‘He has no idea… it’s almost adorable, it feels so intimate, that I know exactly what’s happening inside of his throat, inside of his body, I can almost picture it’ 

“Vox… Vox!” 

“Hm?! Wha?” Vox snapped out of his thought spiral, turning to his agitated lover with a kind smile, “Sorry, what were you saying?” 

“Our food’s here, stop staring into space and eat,” Valentino replied, taking a cautious bite of his boneless ribeye, his left eye twitching after he swallowed. 

Vox looked down at his goliath twenty-two ounce porterhouse and silently began to tuck in, devouring half of the mammoth steak in six massive bites, he hadn’t eaten all day, so the influx of calories was welcome- the distraction, however, was not. 

“Fuck’s sake, Vox, eat slower, you’re acting like an animal!” Velvette hissed from her seat to Vox’s left, taking a bite of her gyro and washing it down with a sip from her frozen cocktail. 

“Sorry,” Vox replied, taking in forkfuls of his massive steak a bit slower, pretending to savor each bite while sneaking glances at Valentino, who had seemingly given up after finishing half of his own steak, “What’s wrong?” 

“It doesn’t taste right,” Valentino muttered, a frustrated squeaking sound leaving him as he twitched his antennae and stared at his phone. 

“If you want, I can figure out which of the chefs made your order and leak any embarrassing footage I can find of him in my database on the news tonight,” Vox offered, shooting Val a doting smile as he polished off his porterhouse and licked his lips. 

“No,” Valentino muttered, folding his arms, “It’s fine… I’m just not hungry.” 

Vox frowned, as attractive as watching his lover fall ill in real time was, it was disheartening to see him so miserable. 

After dinner, far later into the night, Vox was sitting in his and Valentino’s shared bed, scrolling through work emails on his phone while spying on Val as he showered, using the camera he hid in the corner of the bathroom as an extra eye. 

“H-Hih’DdTshhEW! Hih’PSshhhew!” 

“Bless you,” Vox whispered to himself, pinching his thighs tight to avoid the throbbing sensation he felt between his legs, those two sneezes sounded wet. 

Valentino turned off the water in the shower, carefully stepping out into the steam-filled bathroom and toweling himself off. 

“I-ihh’Pshhuh!” Valentino sneezed again, scrubbing at his nostrils with the back of his hand, “What the fuck?!” 

‘He’s so oblivious… I wish I could tell him, but it’d spoil all the fun’ 

“Come on, Princess, we’ve both got packed schedules tomorrow, the train to Pound Town will only be at the station for ten more minutes,” Vox called out teasingly, smirking as he heard Val hurriedly applying his lotion and moisturizer. 

Two minutes later, Valentino rushed out of the bathroom, throwing himself onto their bed and crawling until his plush rear was resting on Vox’s crotch. 

“I’ve been looking forward to this all day,” Valentino whispered, tracing hearts onto Vox’s pectorals with his long fingers, “I could feel you staring at me like a piece of meat, Papi, you want it so badly, don’t you?” 

“Not as badly as you do, slut,” Vox mumbled, gently sliding down his pajama pants and boxers to expose himself, “Do you want Daddy inside of you?” 

“Oh y-ye-ehh… Ihh… IH’DdTsShhew!... Ih’PSschew!...” Val responded, rubbing the heel of his palm against his nostrils with a damp sniffle, “SnFF! Sorry…” 

Vox’s heart began to race, feeling his mouth water again. 

“Are you hard right now?” Val asked, raising an eyebrow as he wiggled his hips, feeling the stiff presence inside of his rectum, “Oh my god, you freak, did me sneezing make you hard?” 

“Yes,” Vox groaned, leaning back against the pillows, “Don’t play dumb, you know what I’m into, asshole.” 

“Well then, you said we only have seven minutes… let’s get a move on, baby,” Valentino whispered, the slight huskiness to his voice vibrating through Vox’s audio sensors and making him flush a deep blue as he began to roll his hips. 

Vox was so lost in his own thoughts about Valentino’s cold that he had completely tuned out the moth’s aroused moaning as he was being penetrated, until the exact moment Valentino orgasmed. 

“Mmm… ohmygod- FuU-ck!!

Val’s voice cracked and broke at the tail end of his pleasure-endrenched moan as he hopped off of Vox’s still-throbbing cock and rolled out of bed to clean himself up, “That was incredible, Vox, you’re getting so good at doing it fast,” he whispered, kissing Vox’s neck, his voice still slightly raspy. 

“Th-thank you,” Vox muttered, drooling as he stared at Valentino’s adam’s apple, paralyzed by his persistent boner. 

“Poor baby, I felt you finish inside me, do you need to go agAin?” Valentino whispered, his voice breaking at the end of his sentence, “Hrmm-hrmm!- ‘Scuse me… don’t worry Voxxie, I’ll be right back to suck you off when I’m done cleaning up.” 

“Y-you don’t have to,” Vox stammered, feeling more electricity rushing to his crotch after Val cleared his throat, mildly afraid that he would pass out from the overworking of his system. 

“Nonsense, Papi, you made time in both of our busy schedules to take care of me, it’s my turn to take care of you… KHFF! Khff!,” Valentino tilted his head up, caressing his slender neck with one hand, “Plus, maybe a quick massage from your joystick and a load of your cum will do something about this stupid- Khhff!- fucking tickle in my throat.” 

Vox’s eyes crossed, “Mm-mmhmm… Ö̵̭-̶̫͖̪͑͠o̴̘̪͊̾͜-̸̘͈̀̃o̸̜̲͌͊͝ͅk̵̘̱̿̍á̵̻-̶̠̓̌a̶̙̚ÿ̸̡͈́̇,” he replied, his boner throbbing almost painfully as Valentino wandered into the bathroom, occasionally letting out a few dry, ticklish coughs as he cleaned himself up. 

‘Am I too into this? Maybe I just haven’t been able to indulge like this in a while? We usually do kink play with Val’s fetishes, since he’s got more of them… maybe it’s just been a while since he’s been sick?’ 

Vox’s mind raced as he fought the urge to graze his twitching penis with his fingertips, still practically paralyzed by arousal. 

‘He isn’t even really sick yet, how am I going to function later?’ 

Vox couldn’t answer his own question before Valentino returned- freshly washed- to their bed, crawling across the bedspread until his head was at level with Vox’s crotch, wrapping his long tongue around Vox’s pulsating and desperate cock before going to town. 

In about two minutes, Vox finally had his massive release, Valentino had about a half-liter of cum flooding his throat and the inside of his mouth, and a pulse of electricity radiated out to the rest of the tower’s wiring, causing the power to briefly flicker on and off. 

“Would you two perverts cut it out?! I’m blow-drying my hair!” Velvette hollered from a few rooms over, “Go to sleep!” 

“Sorry Velvette!” Vox called back before turning his attention to his lover, “Sorry to you about the uhm… wide load.” 

Valentino swallowed in two heavy gulps, licking his lips as a chill radiated up his spine, making him shiver, “Ay, mierda, wide load is an understatement,” he replied, “You were really pent up there, hm?” 

“Y-yes,” Vox replied, pulling up his boxers and pajama pants and sliding underneath the comforter, “Come on, let’s go to sleep.” 

Valentino smiled, tracing a heart over Vox’s chest with a slender finger before clapping to turn out the lights and joining him under the covers. 

“G’night Val,” Vox yawned. 

“G’night Papii-ih.. I-Ih’ptSschiew!... snff! ‘Scuse mbe,” Valentino replied, drifting off to sleep, blissfully unaware that Vox would lie awake staring at his snoring form and thinking about that last sneeze for at least three more hours. 

The next morning, Vox woke up at sunrise, quietly sliding out of bed and arching his back to stretch, turning back toward the bed to sneak a peek at his lover. A grin flashed across Vox’s face when he saw the shiny irritated skin on Valentino’s ‘nose’ and the puffy bags sitting under his eyes. 

Valentino was a sight to behold as he snored noisily on his side of the bed: he looked pale, he looked exhausted, he looked truly sickly, he looked awful, and in his awfulness, the moth looked more beautiful and captivating than ever. 

Vox gently caressed Valentino’s cheek with his left hand, trying not to drool as he heard the rumble of congestion in the moth’s sinuses. 

“I love you,” Vox whispered, turning on his heel and leaving the bedroom to get dressed and get started with his incredibly busy day. 

A few hours later, Vox was in his surveillance room after a grueling series of meetings with the 666 News production team about the graphics budget for the next quarter. As a treat, Vox zeroed in on the cameras in the porn studio, kicking his legs under his desk while he watched. 

In the studio, the team was working on a film featuring a threesome- two women, one man- and Valentino was pouting from his chair, looking completely unimpressed. 

“M mphh… H-hahh… Oh my god, yes! Yes!” a random amateur porn actress moaned from her position splayed across a desk on set, digging her fingernails into the plywood and crossing her eyes. 

“Y-yeah, you like that d-don’t you?” the actor penetrating her stammered, anxiously struggling to keep his eyes on her, Valentino’s piercing, judgemental gaze looming over him like a vengeful spirit. The actor wrenched his eyelids shut, silently dreading the words he could feel coming next. 

“Cut!” Valentino shouted, his hoarse voice struggling, forcing him to quietly clear his throat, “Hrghht-hrmm- Okay, what the fuck is going on? Why are you looking at her like you’re trying not to make a first date awkward?” 

“I- I don’t know it’s just, it’s hard to look at her and say the lines and… and,” 

“Say ‘and’ one more time, I’ll rip off your dick and make you eat it,” Valentino hissed, standing up and grabbing the actor by his neck, holding him up in the air above the rest of the cast and crew, “I want this to be a lesson to the rest of you- snff!- lyi’g on your resumé id the real world mbight get you fired. But down’d here, this is what lyi’g od your resumé gets you.” 

Vox darted his eyes away from the screen as Valentino crushed the amateur actor’s neck with a single squeeze, tossing the motionless corpse against the wall and ignoring the puddle of arterial blood that was forming on the tile floor. 

“Alright, sub in, let’s start agai… iih..” 

Vox turned, staring at Valentino from multiple camera angles, drool beginning to drip into his lap. 

“iIH’DdDTschhIEW! Ih’DdTschhuhh! IH’DdDShhew! Hi-IHH’TssShiiEW!” 

Vox quietly unbuttoned and unzipped his slacks. 

“Fuck’s sake… Snff! Kitty, I ndeed a tissue,” Valentino muttered, pulling his elbow away from his face only to avert his eyes at the stringy trail of mess coating his sleeve, “Snff-snff! Ughh…” 

The cast and crew on set all struggled to avert their gaze as Valentino plucked a few tissues from the box that was offered to him by his RoboFizz assistant, letting loose a gurgling blow and collapsing back into his chair. 

“Thag’k you, Kitty… Snff!” Valentino sighed, wiping his streaming nostrils with his crumpled-up tissue and staring listlessly at his crew, “Alright- Snff!- let’s try that agai’d.” 

The actress hopped onto the desk she’d been bent over, rolled onto her back, and the scene started over from the beginning. 

“Oh… I almost forgot you were here, Steven,” the actress gasped as she shimmied off her underwear until they hung around her left ankle, “Veronica and I were just about to have ‘girl time’... if you want, you can watch.”  

“That sounds hot,” the actor replied, only to wince upon realizing that he had gone off-script, “Oh fuck-” 

“Cut!” Valentino shouted, getting out of his chair and rolling up his copy of the script before smacking the replacement actor in the back of the head repeatedly, “Why do I even’d bother with you fucki’g idiots whed you ndever fail to disappoint mbe?!” 

“I’m sorry, I can try again, I forgot the intro to the scene I-” 

“Hiih’Ihh’pSshiew! Hi-Ih’psSHIEW!” Valentino turned away to cover his sneeze loosely with his left arm, “That’s it, I’ve seen enough- snff!- we’re fidished shooti’g today! Out!” 

The cast and crew hurriedly rushed to clean up the set and gather their things, while Valentino stormed out of the studio, tossing equipment to the ground aggressively on his way out. 

“Imbeciles! Amateurs!- Snff!- It’s impossible to get adythi’g done- Snff-snff!- Dammit!” Valentino said, hissing as his antennae vibrated above his head, digging his claws into the wall as he approached the elevator. 

‘He always does this when he gets all cranky… he’s coming down to my surveillance room… he’s coming to see me’ 

Vox twirled a random cable around his finger, kicking his feet as he watched Valentino’s aggression and rage die down due to his waning energy, the massive overlord winding back a fist in the elevator to punch at the walls, only to lean back against the handrails, holding a hand up to his mouth to cover a hoarse cough. 

“Fucking idiots- snff- I would’ve been able to act that out with a fucking blindfold on,” Val grumbled, swiping the back of his hand under his nostrils, “I need to throw something…” 

Vox struggled to contain his joy when Valentino stormed through the automatic sliding door entrance to his surveillance deck, his heeled boots clicking against the polished steel. 

“Val, what a pleasant surprise! How did the shoot go?” Vox asked, clasping his hands together and standing near a few of the smaller screens as Valentino swayed slightly on his feet. 

“The fucking clowns I picked for this film can’t act to save their lives- snff- I know porn is all about half assing it, but if you can’t even do a half-assed job at acting you’re a waste of space- snff!- Ugh! Mby nose is fucking running!” Valentino said, gnashing his teeth as he scrubbed desperately at his face. 

“That’s awful, I think I’ll sort through my most attractive and least competent employees for another round of surprise layoffs, find you some more talent,” Vox offered, quietly offering Valentino a handful of tissues. 

“It’s just ridiculous, these assholes had the nerve to look nervous when I told them to get their shit together! I wanted to shove my hand up their asses and move them through the shoot myself like the useless brain-dead flesh puppets they are!” Valentino shouted, balling his fists, “Fuck’s sake, I… I…” 

Vox quietly licked his teeth as he watched Valentino begin to wilt, staggering on his feet and holding a hand to his left temple, massaging the skin with his fingers. 

“Hi-Ih’PsShhuhh! I-ih’psschiew!” Val sneezed, letting loose a pitifully wet sniffle, “Uch… snff-snff!” 

‘Right on cue, there we go,’ Vox thought, quietly grabbing Valentino’s wrists and guiding him over to his chair, “Bless you! You look exhausted, here, take my chair,” he offered, watching Val practically collapse into his seat. 

“Voxxy,” Valentino said, shivering slightly as he buried himself a bit deeper into his coat. 

“Mhm?” Vox replied, pretending to be distracted by the screens, redirecting his attention to Valentino and feeling something bloom in his stomach when he saw the exhaustion tugging at Val’s eyes and the slight flush that had spread across his face, “You seem to have calmed down, that’s good.” 

“I’b tired,” Valentino complained, blowing his ‘nose’ with aggressive gusto, frowning and folding his arms when he still felt hopelessly congested, “I thig’k I’mb sick.” 

‘Took you long enough to figure that out, sweetheart,’ Vox thought, internally rolling his eyes, but choosing to channel his raw desperation into doting, “I think so too,” he said, stroking Valentino’s cheek with one hand and taking his temperature using the infrared sensors in his eyes, “100.5 degrees.” 

“I’b freezi’g,” Valentino grumbled, shivering slightly as his makeshift coat failed to ward off the febrile chills that radiated through him, “I-ihh’PtSshew! Ih’Ptshhiew!” 

“You poor thing, this sounds like it’s shaping up to be a nasty cold,” Vox crooned, still caressing Valentino’s face, unfazed by his leaky sinuses and scorn-filled expression, “Let’s get you to bed.” 

Val reached out toward Vox with his arms, a pleading look in his shimmering red eyes as he let out a pitiful sniffle, “Carry me?” he asked, batting his eyelashes. 

Vox gnawed on the inside of his cheek, scooping Valentino up into his arms and carrying him bridal-style out of his surveillance room, his spine tingling when Val leaned over his shoulder to cough. 

“Sorry- snff!- mby throat is so scratchyy- YiIhh’PSshew! Ih’pshuuh!” Valentino said, wiping haphazardly at his face with a tissue. 

“Bless you,” Vox said, carrying Valentino upstairs to their penthouse, all the way to their shared bedroom at the far end of the hall. Planting Val down on the floor, Vox slowly pulled back the blanket and sheets while Valentino changed out of his clothes and into an oversized Squirterz T-shirt. 

Weak on his feet, Valentino quietly slid into bed and got comfortable under the covers, swiping the back of his hand across his face in an attempt to ward off a building itch. 

“D’you need anything? Whatever you want, it’s yours, I promise,” Vox vowed as he stood at the foot of his and Valentino’s shared bed. 

“I’b okay… I-ihh’pshhuh! Ih’pSsschiew!... I’mb just gonna take a ndap,” Valentino replied, taking off his glasses and cuddling up against the pillows on his side of the bed, breathing noisily through his mouth due to his clogged sinuses. 

Vox felt a spark of arousal radiating up and down his spine, and a familiar stiffness in his pants, “Uhm- hey Val? Before you sleep, could I ask a huge favor?” he asked, fidgeting with the fabric on his lapel. 

“What is it? Snff-snff! Uchh…” 

“You think you’d be up to getting… ‘intimate’? Just once, I just, I’ve been pent up for ages and I’m desperate for it,” 

Valentino scoffed, clearing his sinuses with a wet and heavy blow, “No way… snff! Not right now, I’d probably puke if you tried to fuck me… and my throat hurts too much to suck your dick,” he whined, folding his arms. 

Val’s cranky complaining only sent more energy to Vox’s throbbing and desperate cock, forcing the CEO to hold both hands over his fly to avoid the embarrassment of his beloved seeing his massive boner. 

“I-I’ll suck yours! I just need you, any part of you right now, you don’t have to lift a finger, I promise, I’ll even clean up afterwards!” Vox begged. 

Valentino huffed, letting loose a few scratchy-sounding coughs, “Fine…if you promise I don’t have to do anything,” he said, rolling his eyes and crawling back over the covers so he could open his legs, shivering a bit as his exposed lower half quickly became chilled. 

Vox licked his lips, hurriedly diving forward and wrapping his mouth around Valentino’s massive cock, gliding up and down along the shaft as saliva pooled in his mouth from the arousal at Val’s symptomatic noisiness. 

“i-Iih’psSchew! IH’PtSshhew! Ih’ptshheww!” Valentino sneezed, dabbing at his nostrils with a tissue, “Hurry up! Mby legs are cold!” 

Vox moaned, his cock twitching as he continued to slurp back saliva as he sucked, trying to keep drool from leaking out of his mouth and pooling at the base of Valentino’s shaft. 

“Khhf! Khff-khff!” Valentino drew a sharp breath, holding a fist up to his mouth as his cheeks flushed, the tickle in his throat blooming out of control, “KHFF- koff- koff! KHFFF!” 

Vox’s eyes crossed, more drool gathering in his mouth from the waterfall of saliva that was developing under his vibrant blue tongue, “Mmnh… Mmghh,” he moaned, his mouth still full. 

“Voxxy hurry up! I’m tired!” Valentino snapped, his cheeks burning as his low-grade fever made him irritable. Wheezing slightly, the moth weakly kicked out one of his legs as his sensitive skin stung from the stimulation of Vox’s tongue, his eyes threatening to roll back in his skull. 

Vox moaned desperately, releasing into his underwear with a full-body shudder right as Valentino whimpered, releasing a jet stream of cum into Vox’s awaiting mouth, some of the excess leaking out of the corners and dribbling down his flat face. 

“Thank you, Val, thank you, that was-” Vox gulped, realizing how much cum was dribbling out of his mouth when he attempted to speak with it half-full, “-that was amazing… you alright?” 

Valentino whined, curling up on himself as sweat trickled down his flushed face and goosebumps spread across his chilled, hypersensitive skin, “I’m so tired… and everything feels so hot… my skin burns,” he groaned, hugging his knees as tears brimmed in his eyes, “I-ihh’ppSshew! Ih’Pt-CHEW!” 

Vox contained his arousal now that he’d had his fun, settling back into the role of caretaker for his ailing lover and pressing his palm against Valentino’s cheek, “Your fever has you so sensitive and antsy, doesn’t it?” he asked, kissing his lover’s neck. 

Valentino let out a hopelessly wet sniffle, dragging the back of his wrist across his face, “Mmhm,” he replied, shivering, “I’ll let you fuck mbe when I’m feeling better, Papi, but right now I’m not in the mood.” 

Vox cooed affectionately as he stroked Valentino’s head in between his antennae, “Of course, I couldn’t contain myself, I’m so sorry… I promise I’ll be patient now,” he said with a smile, “Anything you need before you take your nap?” 

“Another shirt? I got all sweaty and now it’s stuck to my back and it’s making me cold… Hh’ptchhew! I-ihh’pshhew!” Valentino requested, peeling off his sweat-drenched T-shirt and shivering helplessly among the jostled covers, coughing into a clenched fist, “And a glass of water… ‘m thirsty.” 

“Of course,” Vox replied, kissing Valentino’s cheek, “I’ll be right back.” 

Ten minutes later and Vox returned with an oversized VoxTech branded T-shirt alongside a large glass of ice water. Quickly, Vox pulled the shirt over Valentino’s head and adjusted it until it rested comfortably on his frame, before tucking Val back under the covers and setting the glass of water on his nightstand. 

“There we go, all set to take your nap?” Vox asked, stroking Valentino’s cheek with the back of his hand, his stomach fluttering when his lover’s fever-warmed skin trembled under his touch and he whimpered hoarsely. 

“Mmhm… will you stay with mbe?” Valentino asked, rubbing his eyes and yawning as he took off his glasses and set them down next to his glass of water. 

“I can’t sleep with you, it’ll throw off my recharge cycle and I have some work to get done, but I’ll work remotely so I can stay in the room while you sleep, sound fair?” Vox offered, smiling. 

Valentino huffed, but relented, “Mkay… sounds fair… snff! Snff!” he replied, curling up and pulling the blankets up to his shoulders as his eyelids began to droop and he dozed off in earnest. 

Vox watched Valentino’s chest rise and fall for a few minutes, pondering on whether or not he should pull up some of the camera footage from the past few hours as viewing material or if he should pull out his laptop and actually get some work done while his boyfriend slept.

“Khff-Khff!.... KOFF!” 

Vox straightened his posture and quickly took a seat on the window bench in his and Valentino’s shared bedroom, staring desperately as Valentino let out cough after cough in his sleep, his dry throat getting irritated in his slumber. 

“kHFF-khff-khff!” 

Vox sighed, unzipping his pants and sticking his hand into his boxers. Work could wait… who knows when his beloved boyfriend would ever be this sick again? Or when he’d have an opportunity to quell some of his unruly arousal without having to inconvenience a sick person by pestering them about wetting his wick.  

“khFF- Khff- KOFF!” 

Vox lapped up a bit of drool that threatened to leak out of his mouth as he began to rub his sore, overexerted penis, static electricity clinging to his fingertips as metal met metal over and over and over again. 

‘I’ll just…just go until he finishes coughing…then I’ll get some work done… yeah’ 

“kHFF-KHFF!! Koff- khff-khff!” 

Vox chewed on his tongue to silence an aroused moan, briefly checking the clock and noticing the crackling and sparks that surrounded his twitchy fingers as they ran along his shaft. 

For the sake of Vox’s dignity, his work, and the fire-prone wooden furniture in the room, hopefully something managed to soothe either Valentino’s ticklish throat or the VoxTech CEO’s relentless libido. 

Preferably both. 

[kaddyssammlung]

Dark Signs

interpreted as someone talking to their addiction as if it was a lover.

TW: addiction and also SH, ED and alcohol

An addiction takes up so much space in your life. It's it like having a relationship with someone. It comforts you when you need it, you argue with it, some days you love it and on other days you hate it.

"Where I was raised, there was no street lights Just pitch black and passing headlights"

According to Gabor Maté “addiction is always rooted in childhood trauma and that the addiction is an attempt to deal with the effects of childhood trauma; which it temporarily does but it creates even more problems in the long term” (source)

The reason why I bring this is up is because “where I was raised there was no street lights” could just mean the beginning of his addiction.

I can say from my own experience that what Gabor Maté explains is valid for my own life. Growing up in “darkness” led to addiction at an early age for me.

“And where we met, there must have been dark signs Omens in your skies “

There should have been “dark signs” but in the beginning I was damn curious as to how far I could take things before someone starts noticing them.

One of the first things I did was steal a little alcohol from my parents when I was 12. The damn feeling when you drink something. It's nice at first, that warm feeling in your belly and you start feeling a little light-headed but in a good way. Of course this does not last.

Another thing that I remember was when I first self-harmed. It was in a very visible spot on my left forearm. I wanted to see if someone notices it and says something. No one did. I'm unsure if “meeting your unhealthy coping mechanisms” is the same for everyone. To me pushing boundaries and testing the waters and seeing how far I can take things was really imported. I assume this has something to do with BPD though.

So...for me when we met, meaning me and my begging addiction, there were no dark signs.

“Most days you reach for safety”

Addictions give you the illusion of safety. According to Gabor Maté your need for attachment was not met in childhood so your addiction “feels like a warm hug”.

“remain calm, forget that you know me and when we met I could see dark signs alarm bells in your eyes”

You can read this as if a shift had taken place. The addiction is showing its ugly face. It's no longer “fun” to destroy yourself and also hurt everyone around you with what you are doing.

Yes, there were dark sings and now please leave me, dear addiction because I don't want you to control me any longer.

I sure have felt like that. Waking up hungover is exhausting. Drinking a lot has consequences. My stomach was in shambles all the time just to name one example.

The scars from self-harm also stay and they kept becoming more and more. An eating disorder is also horrible. You have to eat but constantly obsessing over eating, not eating, over-eating, it drove me mad.

“And I miss the man I was the moment we left off”

The moments before addiction was in your life and you had an actual life and did not do everything just to please your addiction.

I ran out of things that I could drink towards the end. When I smell certain things, even today, such as vodka for example, then I still feel like I have to throw up.

“I might break and bend to my basic need to be loved and close to somebody”

An addiction can be so nice to you. I still hear anorexia talking sometimes “don't you hate your period?! Just let me back in again and you will not have it any longer. Let me be your lover again”

No! I like having energy to do things that I love, so f*ck off!

“And I hate who I have become every time I wake up”

That rush of panic in the morning. “What did I do yesterday? Did somebody notice what I did? Do I still have something to drink left? Did I write weird messages? Where are those bruises coming from? Why, why, why, why, why ,why did I not have the strength to not give into my cravings? Will this ever stop?”

I hate who I have become, so please leave! Leave me alone!

“and if you saw the marks on my dashboard the new scars that I didn't ask for”

It took you over and you don't want it anymore but it has totally control over you.

“Would you call asking for answers?”

This does not really fit when I think about as if you are talking to your addiction. Maybe hmm...your addiction is not interested in how you are feeling. It wants you dead. That's the hard truth. It won't stop, ever. So no it will not call and ask for answers even if you...

“tear my arms off”

It won't care. So? "F*ck off dear addiciton...you don't serve me any longer. I hate you!"

That relationship that I had with my addictions lasted twenty years. There was not much room for anything else such as hobbies or having an actual relationship with another human being. The humans that I did attract struggled with this issue also and were really abusive and fed into the addiction.

So...

after my short little rant or whatever this was.

What helped? The first steps out?

Learning how to calm down. Stop the racing thoughts that were saying things like “just one more drink, just one last time....come on.....buy something”.

I did that with meditation. Watching my breath, connecting to my breath. It's in the stillness where you can reconnect with yourself.

[missallanea]

@yinbug : ❝ Okay, listen up. ❞ Marinette, as serious as she's ever been in her life, takes Kagami's face into her hands, the gentle pressure squishing the other girl's cheeks, blue eyes boring into brown. ❝ You're going to go out there and you're going to win. You know how I know you're going to win? ❞

She tilts her head towards the piste where Kagami's opponent awaits the start of their match, but Marinette doesn't take her eyes off her.

❝ Because you're already a winner to me! You literally can't lose. So, just do your best and have fun, don't worry about the rest. ❞ And then she smiles, bright as the sun, and leans in to place a kiss square on Kagami's still-squished lips. When she pulls back, her cheeks are almost as bright as the red of the other girl's uniform, but her smile is unwavering. ❝ For luck. ❞

When she finally withdraws, she dips down to retrieve Kagami's foil and offer it out to her.

❝ Go kick some butt! ❞

It was... difficult, to have any sort of a 'game face' when said face was being lightly squished between two ( well-intentioned ) hands. Kagami wants to object that she really didn't need any of this... go team ra ra stuff, but the truth was...

Had anyone ever actually cheered her on before?

It was different when her school was being represented. To fight for her school, or her country, or even her family name. The people cheering her on were cheering for those things, but never Kagami Tsurugi herself. Now, not only was she being rooted for, she was... already enough. You literally can't lose. How badly had she wanted to hear those words? That her best would be her best, win or lose.

She wants to tell Marinette how much her words mean, but that line of thinking was immediately cut off by the kiss. Not the usual, cheeky French greeting she'd had to grow accustomed to, not her cheek but her lips.

"I—" It takes a moment for Kagami to find herself again, fingers carefully closing around the grip of her foil, trying to focus on its weight in her hand and not the deafening blood rushing through her ears and her heart beating so heavily against her ribcage.

How was she supposed to focus on a match now?

"...I won't lose. Not with your luck on my side."

semi-unprompted !!

[fwoopersongs]

赋得古原草送别 - Composed from: Bidding Farewell on the Ancient Grass Plains

by 白居易  (Bai Juyi, 772 - 846)

离离原上草 一岁一枯荣  lí lí yuán shàng cǎo yī suì yī kū róng  Flickering grasses upon the plain, a year, a cycle of withering and verdant glory.

野火烧不尽 春风吹又生 yě huǒ shāo bù jìn chūn fēng chuī yòu shēng Ravaging wildfire does not burn it all; a spring breeze blows and again, they grow.

远芳侵古道 晴翠接荒城  yuǎn fāng qīn gǔ dào qíng cuì jiē huāng chéng  Distant fragrance encroaches ancient roads; sun dappled green takes the desolate city.

又送王孙去 萋萋满别情 yòu sòng wáng sūn qù qī qī mǎn bié qíng Again, seeing off a dear friend on their way, the lush field is full of these parting feelings.

………………………………………………………………………………………….

NOTES

To @liberty-or-death​, thanks for the rec which brought this poem back on my radar. I’m so glad we do this - I always learn so much! 

Check out her meta and thoughts on this work in the mdzs context.

This is a fun poem in that if you look at only the first four lines, you get one genre of poetry - praise for nature, but if you take it as a whole, you get another type - a farewell poem. In fact, I had no idea that it had a second half. It’s so popular that if anyone asked pre-cnovel era YJ what it means, she would have been able to answer too - but only the second and third lines…

A variation of 野火烧不尽 春风吹又生 is a common idiom which is also used a lot (truly a LOT) in various novels and cmedia, mostly in the context of ruthless or pragmatic characters going ‘斩草不除根 春风吹又生 (if you cut grass but don’t get rid of their roots, then when the spring wind blows they’ll grow again). This phrase is a convergence of this poem and a quote from 左传 zuǒ zhuán, The Commentary of Zuo, which recounts the major political, military, and social events of the Spring and Autumn period, and was written more than a millennium before Bai Juyi was born. In the section for Duke Yin, Year 6, it goes:

君子曰，善不可失，恶不可长，其陈桓公之谓乎，长恶不悛，从自及也，虽欲救之，其将能乎 The lord said, goodness must not be lost, evil must not be nurtured in its growth, this must apply to Duke Huan of Chen. Having nurtured the growth of evil without rectification and about to reap his just deserts - even desiring to salvage this situation, how can it be done? 

商书曰，恶之易也，如火之燎于原，不可乡迩，其犹可扑灭，周任有言曰，为国家者，见恶如农夫之务去草焉，芟夷蕴崇之，绝其本根，勿使能殖，则善者信矣. In the Book of Shang it says, the ease of evil’s flourishing is akin to fire spreading on the plains; it cannot be approached, can it then be extinguished? Quoting Zhou Ren, ‘a person responsible for country and family, at the sight of evil, must behave as the farmer whose priority is to rid the land of weeds, does: cutting them down, gathering them and eliminating them from their very roots so that they may not grow again. Thus allowing goodness to develop.’

And yes, I didn’t go off on a tangent on Zuo Zhuan for nothing. There is a clear resemblance  between the metaphor used here and the imagery in Bai Juyi’s poem, and that is probably how they ended up linked together in association with characters locked in conflict. 

Title

Here’s something new in the title! The words 赋得 fù dé actually indicate the category for this poem by its origin - via prompt, and can be read as roughly equivalent to ‘composed from’. The prompt itself is the following sentence, 古原草送别 gǔ yuán cǎo sòngbié (ancient plain’s grass, bidding farewell). For this type of poem, how carefully the format is maintained whilst sticking closely to the topic and fulfilling the prompt, is a critical test of the poet’s skill. 

Such prompts may come from lines of existing poetry, songs, essays or themes. The earliest example of such that we have today is 《赋得翠石应令诗》 written by 萧雉 Xiao Zhi of Liang Dynasty during the Northern and Southern Dynasties period. Though the later 应制 yìng zhì (by Emperor’s order) type of poetry are also titled with these two words to indicate their type, it is only one reason of many! The origin of such a prompt may vary from being administered for tests of ability, to exams, to friendly games or even just to say ‘I was inspired by this!’.

Background

Pre-dive notes: I suspect this is another one where I’ll end up eyeballs deep in a stack of books sans punctuation and in traditional chinese - and if I’m deeply unlucky, only handwritten. Why am I so excited??????? LMAO. Been dragging my feet on everything up till this point.

The story that comes with this poem isn’t one that can be found in some personal recount or diary entry from the poet. One half comes from 《幽闲鼓吹》, a collection of anecdotes about the upper echelons of the Tang Dynasty, emperors and generals and famous literary figures of the middle and late Tang period, covering Emperor Xuanzong, Emperor Xianzong (元和 Yuanhe) and Emperor Wuzong (会昌 Huichang) of Tang. The other half comes from 《唐摭言》which is a collection of short stories from the Tang Dynasty (618-907) compiled by Wang Dingbao (870-940), mainly about the state examination system. Emphasis on these two collections being anecdotes to be read for amusement, not verified events. But I guess we can take this with the same serving of salt as we might for a ‘know your meme’ entry!

From 《幽闲鼓吹》 白尚书应举初至京，以诗谒顾著作。顾睹姓名熟视白公曰，米价方贵，居亦弗易。乃披卷首篇曰， ‘咸阳原上草，一岁一枯荣，野火烧不尽，春风吹又生‘ 即嗟赏曰，道得个语，居即易矣，因为之延誉，声名大振。

Minister [1] Bai, newly arrived at the Capital to sit for the imperial examinations, brought poems on his visit to a man by the surname of Gu to show them to him. Gu saw his name and observed him intently, saying, “Grain is expensive, living here won’t be easy [2].” He then opened to the first page and read, ‘The grass of Xianyang Plains, a year, a cycle of withering and verdant glory; wildfire does not raze it all, spring winds blow and again they grow’ and sighed in admiration at once, “living here will be easy (for you).” And because word of this praise got out, his (Bai Juyi’s) name became very very well known.

[1] The highest post he ever held was Minister for the Ministry of Justice [2] This was a play on the words of his name, taken literally it can be read 白 bái (for free) 居 jū (live, as in to live in a house) 易 yì (easy). Oh, get thee to a punnery! xD

From 《唐摭言》 唐白居易初举未振，以歌诗谒顾况。况谑曰。居易。长安百物贵，居大不易。及读至赋得原上草送友曰。野火烧不尽，春风吹又生。叹曰。有句如此，居大不难。老夫前言戏之耳。

Tang Dynasty’s Bai Juyi had just passed the imperial exams, but had not made his name yet. He visited Gu Kuang with song and poetry. Mockingly, Kuang said, “‘To lodge easily’? [1] In Chang’an, everything is expensive. It’s not easy to live in a big place.” It was only after reading, ‘Written for bidding farewell to a friend on the plains: wildfire does not raze it all, spring winds blow and again they grow’, that he sighed, “With wordsmithing like this, living in a big place won’t be difficult at all. Consider all I said before a joke.”

[1] Another play on Bai Juyi’s name.

There are slight differences even between these two accounts. Not to mention the question of whether this gentleman Gu Kuang was even actually in the capital at this time. From my brief skim of his Wiki page, it seems he was having trouble at the tail end of his career, and lived out his retirement in seclusion. Records are clear that Bai Juyi passed the imperial exams in 802 along with friend Yuan Zhen, whilst Gu Kuang’s whereabouts were not possible to track down (at least for me) and he passed away in either 806 if baidu is to be believed, or after 820 according to wiki.

Two things that are immediately obvious as I read these passages:

The first, line one reads 咸阳原上草 xiányáng yuán shàng cǎo (the grass upon Xianyang Plain), whereas the version I got from gushiwen and also the ‘popular’ ~modern~ version goes, 离离原上草 lí lí yuán shàng cǎo (dense and lively, the grass upon the plain). 

The second, that the title is written: 赋得原上草送友 (Composed from: Seeing off a friend upon grass plains) vs 赋得古原草送别 (Composed from: Bidding farewell upon the ancient grass plains)

Consulting another source first published in Southern Song, Chapter 30 of 《苕溪渔隐丛话》, its first half completed in 1148 (this copy is owned by Harvard, and the edition was published in 1740 or 1741… if I’m reading the description correctly), backs up the 咸阳原上草 version.

Which then brings us to the question, when did these lines get changed? 

I have no clue, so I asked google xD. Most answers point to Sun Zhu’s (1722–1778) 《唐诗三百首》 Three Hundred Tang Poems. But it's hard for me to verify at this point because many of the collections which hold this poem were reprinted in the 20th century. I sampled two texts randomly in ctext, and both had the 离离/古原 version… even Bai Juyi’s own anthology 《白氏长庆集》, so named because its first print was in the Changgeng Era, second in Emperor Muzong of Tang’s reign. The version in the image below was from 《白氏长庆集》 in an anthology of classics published in 1922, and it has exactly that same 古原草送别 title and 离离 beginning.

I feel like if the original indeed began with 咸阳原上草, and was titled 赋得原上草送友, it would make sense in a later edit that changes 咸阳 (location) into 离离 (adjective) to then clarify what information is lost - that this farewell happening on ‘ancient plains’ - in another place like the title. In any case, I do believe there is a good reason for the change, no matter my personal preference… Let's get to that in the next section.

Poem

First, note that based on the prompt, the things available to be played with are:

A grass plain (as background)

Emphasis on grass

Seeing off someone

And off we go!

Diving right into exploring the more interesting words or expressions in this poem, I’d like to draw our attention to 离离 (of course), 王孙 and 萋萋.

Though not a word you see often, on sight, 离离 feels like it speaks of parting, because read alone, the word 离 is to leave, to part. But the next natural step is to look up past usages. By past, I mean pre-Bai Juyi’s lifetime and ideally from texts and poets he would have read with care.

Pre-Qin, we have two winners from 诗经 the Book of Odes, Airs of Wang, Drooping Millet. In this poem, 彼黍离离 (the millet either droop or sway). From Minor Odes, Clear Dew, 其实离离 (the fruit of trees hand down). Some person from Han - some websites attribute the poem to Cao Cao, some to Empress Zhen - says,  蒲生我池中，其叶何离离 (bullrushes grow in my pond, how dense their leaves). 

That’s about it for relevant poetry.

And then 易经 《䷝离》 The Book of Changes tells me how to interpret trigrams:

离，丽也；日月丽乎天，百谷草木丽乎土，重明以丽乎正，乃化成天下。柔丽乎中正，故亨；是以畜牝牛吉也。 ‘离’ is ‘to rely on’. The sun and moon rely on the heavens, the myriad grassess and trees rely on the earth; light upon light relies on the right path, illuminating all under heaven. The gentle in their positions, middle and fair are hence fortunate, so female cows are fortunate…?

Okay LOL that last one got a bit away from me, but basically, the trigram called 离  (or the trad version of it anyway) is associated with fire, spring and radiance. And who knows if these associations do or don’t spill over into word selection in everyday life?

So 离 is parting and 离离 can be in turns, drooping, swaying, verdant, radiant and full of life. 

We can have 王孙 and 萋萋 up together because having them both in a sentence brings 楚辞 The Songs of Chu, 招隐士 Summons for a Recluse’s line, 王孙游兮不归，春草生兮萋萋 (the noble man remains there and does not return, the grasses of spring are growing luxuriantly). From this poem, we can infer that 王孙 is referring to the recluse (On the topic of the ‘image’ of recluses in literature, I leave this link: ARTICLE REVIEWS: HOUSE OF HERMITS). Such recluses in the time that poem was written could also be the descendants of noble houses. But the word itself also has meaning - it is literally, grandson(s) of kings or princes, and was also used to collectively refer to young noblemen, eventually just young men in general. Maybe similar to how gentlemen is used? Idk.

And 招隐士 is quite an influential poem. Those three things, 王孙, 春草 and 萋萋 were used often in later works to evoke specific feelings of melancholy despite the beauty in the surroundings, because someone is far from home.

(Some unconfirmed rumours in the Old Book of Tang suggest that Bai Juyi may have been descended from the Mi imperial house of the State of Chu, and the Bai family who left Chu for Qin due to prosecution by the King of Chu. But that is neither here nor there. If true, it may have been part of the inspiration for interpreting the poem’s prompt in this way. Just an interesting titbit of information!)

Now that we have the new, uncommon words out of the way, I wanted to try recreating the experience of reading this piece because it’s such a feast for the senses. And I hope this works, because if not it’s going to look quite ridiculous indeed.

离离 /            原上草        //   一岁  /       一枯荣 bright / grass upon the plains // one year / once wither & flourish  Flickering grasses upon the plain, a year, a cycle of withering and verdant glory.

野火   /      烧不尽   //       春风     /        吹又生 wildfire / burns not end // spring breeze / blows to life again Ravaging wildfire does not burn it all; a spring breeze blows and again, they grow.

远      /      芳     /    侵   /      古道     //         晴翠        /  接  /     荒城  distant / fragrance / assails / ancient road // sunlit crisp green / joins / desolate city Distant fragrance encroaches ancient roads; sun dappled green joins the desolate city.

又     /     送   /      王孙   /  去  //           萋萋      / 满 /      别情 again / sending / noble men / away // verdant greenery / full / parting feelings Again, seeing off a dear friend on their way, the lush field is full of these parting feelings.

There are lots of contrasts that bring these words to life. 离离 is associated with verdant, luxuriant growth and blades of grasses or millet. The unquenchable life in that green against the red of the fire, the grass on the plains that even the fire cannot entirely destroy, because deeply hidden ‘neath the ground, its roots are safe. One breath of the wind and it's growing again! Triumphant in its victory, it goes on to overtake the ‘ancient road’ and the ruins of a city. The word used to describe its action at the road is literally 侵 invade, the word for its action with the city 接 can be read as join, but can also be to receive or take over.

And so I think you can see where this is building up to the last line where the grass, abundant, full of life and absolutely everywhere as far as the eye can see, is like his overflowing emotions in the moment of parting.

I really appreciate the crossing over of what is real and what is imagined, anchoring with the image of ‘grass on the plains’ and bringing us through time, through fire and across space - over the winding road and up to the abandoned city. Is the grass really there? Maybe. Did all of this really happen? Who knows. But these feelings after going through all that are certainly real!

Another thing I love is the cinematic acceleration effect for that year with the grass, and then the panning where you follow someone's gaze from the road to the city led on by the greeeeeeeeen. The pacing is so atmospheric as well! 一岁一枯荣 is slow, solemn and glorious. 野火烧不尽 is an intense battle for dominance and 春风吹又生 a breath of fresh air.

(Source)

(Source)

As I was reading the poem for the first time though, there were some things I wondered idly about, which were then answered as I looked into its background and asked around some.

Grass has a 1 year lifecycle???? Apparently some species, yes. Where I live, it’s just green year round unless someone doesn’t water them during a dry spell. In other places with actual seasons, they can stay green for a while under snow or get frozen while green, which is amazing to me, even if they do eventually yellow. If summers are scorching, they may brown (I think that’s when they die?). Anyway, it’s cool and I can’t believe I never thought about this before.

Are wildfires a Thing on grassland? If the sun is hot enough or if conditions are right for dry lightning it can happen, but I don’t know if spontaneous combustion is a thing on this particular field, but I somehow doubt that.

Which ancient field is this happening on? Xianyang Plains, which is a real place! It is now known as Wuling (五陵) Plain, where the mausoleums of 28 Han and Tang dynasty emperors stand.

Where is the old road and the ruins? Are these actual places or just there for the vibes. Xianyang (咸阳) was the capital of the Qin empire. It was sacked and burnt to the ground, supposedly by Xiang Yu, a rebel leader against the Qin in 206 BC. The founding emperor of Han Dynasty later built his capital just across the river from the ruins of Xianyang. In fact, the ruins are still there!

The photo below is of a Qin Dynasty handmade armor factory found in 2019 at the location of the old Xianyang City. Analysis of the materials found there was a match for armor in Qin Shihuang’s Mausoleum.

(Source)

So the thing about Han Dynasty and Tang Dynasty, is this… 

Qin Dynasty spanned 221 BCE to 206 BCE; its capital was Xianyang. Han Dynasty spanned 206 BCE to 220 CE; its first capital was Chang’an. Tang Dynasty spanned 618 CE to 907 CE; its first capital was Chang’an.

Xianyang was there first, it was ravaged by fire. Then the Han Chang’an was built on the opposite bank. Then Tang Chang’an was built Southeast of the ruined Han Chang’an (it’d been through a lot of wars by that time LOL). So are they the same thing? No. But if the ruins of Xianyang are still here for us today, they certainly would have been there back in Bai Juyi’s time. And they would also have been considered ancient ruins, wouldn’t they?

Here’s how the area looks like on google maps.

Back to sleuthing for reasons behind word choices. 

A thing that caught my ear was the keyword 古道! There are so many poems that use that image-impression, but also also, most of ALL: this classic song. Secondary to that though, there’s 小桥流水人家 古道西风瘦马 (a little bridge, running water and homes; on the ancient road in the west wind, a lean horse) of Yuan Dynasty - and after Bai Juyi’s time, and Li Bai’s (701 to 762) 咸阳古道音尘绝 (on the ancient road to Xianyang, ended is the music and the dust), which he’ll certainly have come across.

I got a bit distracted reading farewell poems and was shook to discover that Wang Wei’s (701 to 7062) even more famous farewell poem, iconic line: 西出阳关无故人, is actually, set at almost the same place. 

渭城朝雨浥轻尘 | Weicheng’s [1] morning drizzle moistens the dusty road. 客舍青青柳色新 | By the traveller’s inn, the willow’s green is fresh 劝君更尽一杯酒 | Friend, do drink up one more cup of wine; 西出阳关无故人 | West beyond Yang Pass, there’ll be acquaintances none. (You’ll have no one)

[1] 渭城 wèi chéng, previous, older name for the county that later became Xianyang County during the Qin Dynasty.

Knowing all this, when a poem uses Xianyang, fire, ancient path and desolate city as imagery, one can’t help the mind being drawn to that fire which burnt a palace, a city to the ground, the lives lost. And then wandering still further... who are you bidding farewell to?

So! While 离离 for the first two words brings beautiful imagery, contrasting against the ravaging fire and parallels to 萋萋, 咸阳 provides associations with location, history and builds on impressions to tie the whole poem together. 

Let me know which you prefer!

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Translation Recs

Something a little different this time, for those who are still with me. 

Because this is such a famous poem, I thought it would be fun to look up other translations! Here’s a list of recs for ones I liked best.

In no particular order:

I enjoyed the brief writeup on Bai Juyi’s background and commentary on the poem’s relevance in vacantmountain’s: TRANSLATION THURSDAY: 赋得古原草送别 BIDDING FAREWELL ON THE PLAIN, BY 白居易 BAI JUYI

Despite what OP says about their own translations seeming rigid sometimes due to their style (and intention for translations), I didn’t find it so. And in fact, I really appreciate how this translation leans closely in to the original words, while still reading smoothly:  152 白居易 賦得古原草送別 translation: Farewells on Grassland, by Bai Juyi

It’s a little further down the page - you may have to search for ‘grass’. I found the concept of utilizing space in this way an interesting one. Perhaps you may too! Daryl Lim Wei Jie brings us: Grass

[danielforshort]

Northern VA Native Plant Garden

Wow oh my goodness life turned upside down and inside out and overall not great! But in an effort to practice things that would help my mental health I started fussing around in my garden. The new house I'm in has a front yard and a backyard. I've decided to devote most of my attention to the backyard. I spend a lot of time scrolling through Facebook Marketplace and my various FB groups looking for free gardening materials. I'm not really planning on staying in the house past the year (though I'd like to be done moving honestly) so i don't want to invest too much money in the garden. But time and energy are fine to spend; I'm enjoying playing in the dirt so I get an immediate return of "childlike joy at playing in dirt" and a possible future return of "oh I grew stuff!"

My goal is to have an ornamental side of the garden and a raised garden bed for things I plan on eating. Currently i have a ton of yellow bell pepper seedlings (I started them a bit late in the season but it's been unseasonably warm these past few falls and mild winters) and 14 tomato plants! I do not like tomatoes but I do like to grow things and they're so easy.

I'm planning on making my raised bed out of some bricks/pavers/garden stones someone gave me. It doesn't need to be huge or pretty or super stable, just a bit of a container for me to drop some plants in. Someone was also giving away plant soil which was great.

With all the weeds I've pulled up I'm hoping to fake/badly compost them. I'm too impatient to wait the months and months I need for them to properly break down. I've stuck them all in a black garbage bin to hope the 100 degree days will kill off their seeds so I can crumble them up in the bottom of my raised garden bed.

For the ornamental side of things I'm focusing on native Virginia plants! There's a great FB group dedicate to native VA plants and people are always giving away or swapping plants! A very generous woman gave me a ton of plants that I'll detail about later in this post!

First I'd like to document the weeds I pulled! I had so much fun weeding actually. It's a repetitive task I enjoy and I like to identify plants even if they are weeds. I used Google Lens for IDing most of them and it actually seemed fairly good at that. Without further ado a list of the different weeds I saw in my garden during 2+ hours of work :D

Note: None of these photos were taken by me! I was too focused on weeding to take good photos of anything.

Weeds

Erigeron Canadensis (Horseweed)

This one was fun to pull! It came up easily and hadn't flowered or gone to seed at all! I think Alexis Nicole has talked about this one before? I wish it had been growing in a part of my garden that didn't need to be weeded right that moment so I could have eaten some. Apparently "dried leaves can be used as a seasoning with a flavor similar to tarragon" (source: eat the weeds) I'm sure I'll find it again maybe in my front yard and I'll try to save some.

Oxalis Acetosella (Wood Sorrel)

God this one HURT to pull, emotionally speaking! I love wood sorrel so much and its one of those plants I can ID easily. Some of my brave friends will eat it when I offer it but most pass. Unfortunately it was right in the area I needed pulled up for my raised bed. I am hoping I can encourage it to grow in my ornamental side! Alexis Nicole has definitely talked about this one before. It had shallow roots and was easy to pull :)

Matricaria Chamomilla (German Chamomile)

Another one I did not want to pull up but had to! It had pretty shallow roots that came up easily. I actually collected all the ones I weeded and popped them in some water. I hope to replay in my ornamental side of things. Fingers crossed they've survived this shock. I have a couple packs of really old seeds so I've started some chamomile from seed. I don't know that it'll work. I think I have some growing in my front yard so I might try to transplant that.

Lactuca Serriola (Prickly Lettuce)

This plant was my second least favourite to weed. Its roots are strong and run deep. The prickles bit me through my gloves. It was satisfying when I got a good grip and pulled it all up but more often than not I heard the roots snap leaving good chunks under ground. It sucked. A lot of them were super big and tall. I know its edible but didn't save any to forage. I'm sure it will be back.

Solanum Carolinense (Carolina Horsenettle)

This plant is my mortal enemy. It bites you. Its stubborn. Its totally toxic. I hate it. This was the most predominant weed in the garden. It was tall and if I tried to reach around to grab a different weed it would scratch me.

Verbascum Thapsus (Common Mullein)

Lord this plant was a stubborn one. The roots were strong and deep but it was so satisfying when I got it out. I actually couldn't remember this one's name when I sat down to write this so I used the Virginia Tech website (link here) to ID it! It's a great website that lets you select features of a plant and offers ones that fit those criteria.

I had a lot of fun weeding and IDing these plants! I'll have another post up about the native VA plants I'm cultivating. I hope whoever reads this enjoys the post. If its just me I hope I find this useful as I start a garden art journal where I can draw and take notes on all these plants.

[maluinks]

I only know taylor swift as someone who sucks ass at writing lyrics, what are the banger lyrics im missing??

lmao i totally get that. I think it will always be a bit of a personal preference thing, just like some ppl love some writing styles which others cant stand, same with lyrics.

I personally love the lyric writing that tells a good story i can see in my head, and the song creates an atmosphere which you can touch and even smell. I think Taylor's strength is in her storytelling, which shines through especially in folklore and evermore. I personally love "seven" ("Please picture me/In the weeds/Before I learned civility/I used to scream ferociously"), august ("To live for the hope of it all/Cancel plans just in case you'd call"), peace ("Would it be enough if I could never give you peace?"), "illicit affairs" ("Leave the perfume on the shelf/That you picked out just for him/So you leave no trace behind/Like you don't even exist"), "champagne problems" ("Sometimes you just don't know the answer/'Til someone's on their knees and asks you"), "cowboy like me" ("Perched in the dark/Telling all the rich folks anything they wanna hear/Like it could be love/I could be the way forward/Only if they pay for it"), "'tis the damn season" ("We could call it even/You could call me babe for the weekend/'Tis the damn season, write this down/I'm stayin' at my parents' house/And the road not taken looks real good now"), "ivy" ("Oh, goddamn/My pain fits in the palm of your freezing hand/Taking mine, but it's been promised to another/Oh, I can't/Stop you putting roots in my dreamland/My house of stone, your ivy grows/And now I'm covered in you").

Now every album she releases has its misses and its hits. I don't love "Lover" that much bc it's a bit too happy poppy for me, though the song "Lover" itself tells a very palpable feeling. Other songs I like are "All Too Well" ("And you call me up again just to break me like a promise/So casually cruel in the name of being honest"), "Dear John" ("Long were the nights when/My days once revolved around you/Counting my footsteps/Praying the floor won't fall through again"), "Back to December" ("It turns out freedom ain't nothin' but missin' you/Wishin' I'd realized what I had when you were mine"), "The Story of Us" ("I'd tell you I miss you, but I don't know how/I never heard silence quite this loud"), "Clean" ("Ten months sober, I must admit/Just because you're clean don't mean you don't miss it"), "Begin Again" ("And you throw your head back laughing like a little kid/I think it's strange that you think I'm funny 'cause he never did"), "Don't Blame Me" ("Don't blame me, love made me crazy/If it doesn't, you ain't doin' it right/Lord, save me, my drug is my baby/I'll be usin' for the rest of my life"), "Delicate" ("We can't make any promises/Now can we, babe?/But you can make me a drink").

Now many people have been dissing the latest album's cringey lyrics for a while, and while I hate them too (god the vigilante one is such a skip its unreal), i actually like some songs with cringey lyrics. "Anti-hero" really grew on me bc it's Taylor self-analising and talking about how she is her own worst critic, which is something we all experience, and I think she made it in a fun self-deprecating way in the song that still delivers the message. other songs in the album which i love and dont have those kinds of cringe lines are "you're on your own, kid" ("'Cause there were pages turned with the bridges burned/Everything you lose is a step you take"), "Lavander Haze" ("The only kind of girl they see (only kind of girl they see)/Is a one-night or a wife"), "High Infidelity" ("Do you really want to know where I was April 29th?/Do I really have to chart the constellations in his eyes?"), "Would've, Could've, Should've" ("If I was some paint, did it splatter/On a promising grown man?/And if I was a child, did it matter/If you got to wash your hands?") (tbh I love all the lyrics in this song it's my fave atm).

Sorry for the long post! I really feel like Taylor's best lyrics are hidden away in her albums many times, but I do get how she gets called a good lyricist, because she is good at telling stories in them. I believe many people look at her stuff from a biased perspective most of the time bc of the way the media has portrayed her in part, and also bc she got a lot of hate from misogynists when she was young and it stayed around as mindless hate/disregard. She isnt the greatest ever but she's earned her reputation as a lyricist imo.

[avelera]

funny CLWM thing that somehow hadn't occurred to me yet: the town is now all scandalized that "Morfea" might be a catholic... if they only knew that Hob was born a catholic! That the church of England didn't even exist when he was born! lol, the layers of "everyone in town would flip their shit if they only knew what's actually up with the 'Gadlings' " in this fic are so fun!

Hmm, well, keep in mind, Hob definitely converted to Anglicanism and was probably one of the very first men to do so? Given I picture him as a grubby little social climber through Henry VIII's reign--said with all affection, you get that money, Hob, as a peasant, no one has earned it more, I'm so proud of him for weaseling his way into their ranks BUT I'm sure it took a lot of persistent effort-- my point is, I see 1500s Hob as someone who leapt at the chance to suck up to the nobility and Henry VIII by being all aboard the "screw the Pope" train immediately, there were a lot of political reasons to break with the Catholic church too that as someone angling his way into the upper classes, Hob would have had at front of mind.

Also just... keep in mind 1389 Hob would be less "Catholic" by our standard and more "Latin Christian" ie, of a group that was everyone who wasn't some flavor of Eastern/Orthodox Christian or some minor heretic sect so... yeah Hob was just mainstream IMO, if the town could accept that he's immortal, it would be less like he was some "*gasp* Catholic!" and more that he was whatever the dominant religion was in England, whenever it happened to be that, so: eminently proper about it.

The thing about Morfea-as-a-Catholic being seen as some sort of scandal is less that anyone would freak out that she was ever Catholic, but rather they'd assume she converted to Anglicanism to marry Hob in their local church and then they'd be wondering if she only pretended to convert to Anglicanism to marry Hob and if her failure to show up at Church is because she's secretly still a practicing Catholic in her heart.

Note: the (correct) assumption that Hob is Anglican would be assumed by him going to church in town before Dream showed up, something he would have made an effort to do to confirm that he was a good upstanding Englishman once he moved into this town to open his bookshop, 1789 and recently-1789 Hob would be very conscientious still about being seen doing things "as they are done" when it comes to fitting in to society, IMO.

So it's less that everyone knows she was once Catholic (she's Italian, it would be assumed that she was at one point) now as that they suspect she was trying to conceal the fact, which is much more of a scandal. Keep in mind, it would have been within living memory in this town when Catholics were barred from certain careers and weren't allowed to worship openly in England (source) for example if they were soldiers (only allowed in 1811) but at this point, Catholic men could not vote or have a seat in Parliament (not until 1829).

Thing is, Hob as I write him is very nearly an atheist and not a man of principle. He's a man of hedonism, comfort, and convenience. Hob as we see him in 1789 would have absolutely no qualms about being openly and loudly Anglican despite being "born" a "Catholic" if it's what he needed to get ahead in life and be comfortable. And keep in mind, the Black Plague era when he was born was a point of very low regard for the "Catholic" Church in Europe, as only the selfish or very lucky priests would have survived (since priests are supposed to administer last rites to the dying) for what would have been Hob's childhood, so he probably never had a "good" priest growing up to make him a fan of the religion beyond what was required by obligation.

Also, Protestantism traces its roots back to the corruption that set into the Church as a result of the Black Plague so like again, Hob I think would be one of those Englishmen who was entirely in favor of breaking ties with the Pope and would have had absolutely zero qualms about brown-nosing the nobility to be seen as at the forefront of accepting the new state religion if it meant angling for advancement. Actually, it's kind of implied, I believe, that he was one of the New Men who benefited from the dissolution and redistribution of the wealth from England's monasteries? If so, if he has any lingering traces of being a Catholic, he's a very bad Catholic.

Anyway, the Regency is an era of expanding rights for Catholics in England though they still face societal limitations like a lack of suffrage, even for the men. I imagine the expectation was that Morfea would convert to her husbands religion. At the very least, the memory of their wedding being in the town means she was married under Anglican rites, and it would have to be to make it binding. Thing is, Morfea showing up the next Sunday for Church would probably put the whole rumor to rest. They're not going to burn her as a witch or anything. It's more that she seemed to avoid going to church at exactly the wrong time, when it was probably most necessary for Hob and Dream to confirm that they were as normal as possible. Theoretically they could probably right this quickly by having Dream (ha!) get very involved in doing good works through the Church as an open practicing Anglican (Hahahahaa!) but therein lies the greater question: why bother?

[purrincess-chat]

Some people say that Adrienette breakup is the only way we can get Ladrien.

Listen, I am a Ladrien bitch, but I don't actually think we NEED Ladrien to get together. I think that ship has sailed. (Literally)

Look, is playing with the different sides fun? Yes. Would it have been fun to see each side have its time to shine? Absolutely. My issue with breakups and get back togethers at this point is the way they've set Adrinette up throughout s5. Well, since s1 really, but s5 especially.

We have been waiting literal, actual YEARS for these two to do something. The requited love in s5 was years in the making. If they wanted to play with the Ladrien romantic potential, they should have done it within that time. Doing it now is just like ehh, okay? At this point, it would be doing it just to say they did it, and I am a Ladrien stan. Am I annoyed with the lost potential of that side? 100% yes. But I just don't see it being viable romantically after s5 without some kind of reveal happening. Believe me, I want Ladrien hugs and kisses more than anyone, but Adrinette fought way too damn hard in s5 just to be together. Doing away with them is just kind of like okay? Then what was the point?

And miss me with the argument that shows do it all the time because for me, if a couple breaks up and gets back together all the time, that's not healthy. That does not demonstrate to me that the couple has healthy coping mechanisms, and if they get together again, what guarantee do I have that it will stick? I don't root for those couples. A majority of my favorite fictional couples are couples who get together and work to stay together. Leslie/Ben from Parks and Rec (and yes, I know they technically broke up for a short time but it was a very specific and believable circumstance. I'm talking about the several seasons they were together without breaking up after that), Jake/Amy from Brooklyn 99, Sakura/Syaoran from Cardcaptor Sakura. All of those couples have gotten together and had plenty of story after getting together where they grew in meaningful ways, and their relationship wasn't boring or a detriment to that. It made their romance more satisfying to see them go through things together (or even separately) and stay together. That's real love.

There are plenty of meaningful ways they can grow as characters while being in a relationship. We saw that throughout s5 with how hard they worked to figure their relationship out and make it work, and that's why I'm rooting for them. They worked for that shit, and I think they deserve it. They deserve to just be happy and in love. They can still continue to grow separately as characters and within the bonds of their relationship. Them being together doesn't automatically mean their development has stopped and won't continue. They don't need to breakup to continue to be interesting. To me, continuing the will-they-wont-they with more breakups and get back togethers would be boring. We've had plenty of wondering if/when/how they will get together. They are together now. I am personally now more interested in how they continue to grow together. How the other sides are different now that they are together. How the dynamics will shift and progress them further leading to an eventual reveal. That's what interests me about future seasons.

Idk, I find it really, really weird that we were begging for something to happen with the love square for years. We begged for them to get together, and now that they are finally together people are begging for them to break up. And for why? A lot of people never even tried to enjoy it. It's weird to me, nonny, and I think it's just a testament of the toxicity of parts of this fandom. I love, love, love Ladrien. I don't think they need an episode to be together romantically at this point. They should have done it a long time ago. I personally want to see them interact with a new dynamic at this point. We can still get Ladrien, it just won't be like what it was, and that's fine. It's fine for all of the sides to adopt new dynamics now that one side is dating. I would actually hope that would happen.

Cause let's be real, Ladybug still having mad heart eyes for her bf but having to pretend he's just another normal citizen who she definitely isn't going to makeout with later? Adrien still sweating bc m'lady pls I'm begging let me go so I can transform and help you?

At this point, some people should just stick to fanfic. 🤷‍♀️

[brainyxbat]

Chapter 9: Hiriluk's Cherry Blossoms, and the Will that gets Carried On!

(episode 86)

"Hey!" A frustrated Chopper had locked Luffy in another room with a caged door. "What're you doing?! Why am I in here?!"

"It's because you're pestering me!"

"Like I said, just join us!"

"This is exactly what I mean by pestering me!"

"It's fun to be a pirate!"

"I've had enough! Just rest in there for a while!"

"Hmm?"

"Your injuries actually aren't that light either." Chopper backed off, then walked away with a huff. "Geez, what's his problem?" Just then, he realized: the key was gone! "Huh?" To his horror, the door opened, with a chuckling Luffy holding the key. "Why?!" The chase commenced again.

"Wait!"

"What is this guy?! When did he steal the key?!"

"Wait! Wait, wait, wait, wait! Wait!"

Chopper skidded to a stop, letting Luffy crash through the wall, as he sensed something was off. "This smell is..."

"Huh?"

He glared with fury. "Wapol!"

-

"When he found out that Hiriluk had only 10 days to live, Chopper got quite upset." Kureha hung her head low. "Well, that was only natural. But he took action in his own way."

Chopper frantically ran through the woods. "I'm gonna die. I will make cherry blossoms bloom in this country!" He crashed into a tree, startling himself out of his thoughts. "This is a symbol of the belief that nothing is impossible!" He thought back to one particular moment.

"A lot guards have been absent recently, What's going on?" Hiriluk and Chopper eavesdropped from behind a wall.

"Well, they're out picking mushrooms at the request of the Twenty MDs."

"Mushrooms?"

"They said there's some mushroom that can cure anything."

"Mushrooms?" Hiriluk pulled him down by one of his antlers. "Ah!"

"Hmm?" Dalton turned behind his back, but didn't see him.

"Idiot! They'll see us!" Hiriluk scolded.

"Doctor, about what they said..." At the home, Chopper scoured through the books, creating a mess; he flipped through a particularly thick one, before finding a certain page. He slammed it shut, and ventured outside with determination, holding it under one arm. "I will never shoot you!" He remembered that encounter, then another. "Don't ever come back here!" He stayed quiet through his trek.

While he was gone, Hiriluk returned to the home, staring silently at the mess. 'I did a terrible thing to you.' He went straight to work. 'At least see my cherry blossoms. They'll be my last big work.' Chopper didn't turn back at the explosion, and along the way, he bowed to a Hiking Bear. "Well... here we go again!" Another explosion.

He stopped at a hill, and to his surprise, there was a herd of reindeer.

His herd.

A weakening Hiriluk panted on the ground. "Dammit! I don't have much time left!"

Changing into a form more closely resembling them, Chopper walked through the herd, paying no mind to the leader leering at him. Inevitably, he headbutted him away a few feet. He charged in again, but a motivated Chopper fought back. 'Nothing is impossible for the man who raised a flag with a skull! That's what I told you, right?!' He was launched away again. 'I will fight! Just like pirates do!' Chopper finally ran, ultimately losing them.

At a cliff, he looked around with a telescope, before stopping at a tree. There was a red mushroom growing by its roots. "I found it! The Amiudake Mushroom. That's the one! But..." He glanced back. "How do I get across?" The ravine was much too wide, and deep for him. However, the herd found him again, and the leader was glaring with a vengeance. What to do?

Hiriluk coughed on the floor, with a broken vial in front of him. "Dammit!" He panted. "I'm close... so close!" He turned to the door when the knob turned, before it opened. As he stayed in bed with a gun pointed, a certain someone staggered in, beaten and battered.

"Doctor... I'm sorry... I lost one of your precious books."

Hiriluk stared in shock; Chopper was bleeding badly, his left eye was bruised and swollen, his left leg appeared broken, and his left antler was missing. "What... happened to you?"

"Mushroom..." He weakly held up a red mushroom. "Medicine."

Hiriluk jumped out of bed. "That's an Amiudake Mushroom!" His gun dropped to the floor. "You... got it for me?"

"Please live. Please live, Doctor. I wanna be a doctor. Please teach me how to be a doctor." Hiriluk dropped to his knees. "I'll fight too... just like pirates do!" He was lost for words. "Do you think a reindeer can become one too?"

A sobbing Hiriluk suddenly held him close. "You can! You can! You can! You can be a great doctor."

"Doct- I can't breathe."

He cried in Chopper's shoulder. "Because you have such a kind heart." Chopper smiled through the embrace, and started crying with him. "You idiot!"

-

"Chess! Kuromarimo!" Wapol called. "Is the doctor hunt going well?!"

"Yes, sir," Chess replied, "Most of the doctors have already been exiled."

"Most?"

Dalton listened on with anger. "There are two that we haven't captured yet. That's Dr. Kureha, and the quack, Hiriluk."

"What'd you say?!" Wapol seethed with fury, before an epiphany came. "Oh, yeah! I've come up with a good idea!"

"Hmm?" They both looked up.

"Send an official notice to the citizens. The Twenty MDs have all... fallen ill," Wapol ordered, as Dalton glared silently.

-

"Does the Amiudake Mushroom soup... taste good?" Chopper asked.

"Ahhh!" He screamed. "Darn, this tastes terrible!"

"What?!"

"This isn't something that any living thing can eat!"

"Oh no," Chopper's head hung in shame.

"Don't be so down," Hiriluk grinned in assurance, "Good medicine doesn't taste good. This means it's working. Thank you, Chopper." He chuckled, as the reindeer smiled widely. "Huh?!"

"Hmm?" Chopper noticed him staring in shock at something behind him. "Huh?" He turned to look; the spherical vial's contents were bubbling, and turning pink. "What's that?"

"I did it."

"What?"

"I finally did it." He stood, and walked to the table. "This is it! This reaction, I've waited for it for 30 years." He turned back around. "I did it, Chopper! My research succeeded! I wasn't wrong! I wasn't! I wasn't!" He burst outside, and screamed with joy. "I can now make cherry blossoms bloom on this winter island!" Chopper watched, and smiled widely, before he was sent to bed. "Listen. I'm going out, but you stay put, and rest here."

"Okay."

"See you later!"

Chopper watched him disappear behind the door. 'Doctor was happy. I cured a human disease!' He giggled with ecstasy, but then looked up when Hiriluk came back in. "Hmm?"

"You'll be able to become a great doctor. I'll guarantee it." With that, he left again. "Do you know... that the entire country is a madhouse right now?" He asked Kureha.

"Yeah, I know. About the Twenty MDs falling ill, right? Ridiculous! So what brought you here today?"

"Actually, I have a favor to ask-"

"Ahh, I refuse," She cut him off.

"I haven't asked anything yet!"

He handed over a small bag tied at the top, containing pink powder. "What's this dust?"

"That's my 30 years. That's the medical science that I've finally completed! It's an all-purpose medicine that can cure this country's sickness of the heart."

"You've lived 30 fruitless years," She snarked, "Good work. So, why are you showing it to me?"

"There isn't enough dust. I don't have much time left, either; I want you to make cherry blossoms bloom in my place.

"Ridiculous! Why do I have to-"

"And one more thing!" He got in her face. "Please teach medical science to Chopper. He wants to become a doctor."

"That's enough! Why would I-"

He was on his knees at that point. "He's a reindeer, and a monster, but he'll certainly become a good doctor!" He bowed in pleading. "He's a nice guy with a kind heart. He risked his life to make medicine for me! Please! Help him become a doctor!"

"What nerve you have!" She glared. "You want me to take care of your stupid research, and strange pet?! You should know that I'm not someone who'll sympathize with a man just because he's not long for this world! Get out of here!" She kicked him out, then his bag, and shut the door.

"Yeah... I know. We've known each other for a long time." He laughed weakly. "I'm counting on you."

"It's not like you, Hiriluk," Kureha remarked, "Throwing in the towel already."

"I don't have that much time left."

After a moment, her eyes widened in realization. "That idiot! He wouldn't!"

-

"What do you mean?!"

"The Twenty MDs fell ill!"

"Who'll treat this country's sick people?!"

"At least give us access to medicine!"

"Talking to us won't do anything!" The guards turned down concerned citizens. "Even doctors get sick!"

"Out of my way!"

"Ahh! Hiriluk?!"

He was running in, carrying two lit-up bombs. "Out of my way! Out of my way!" He chucked the bombs at the guards, just in time or them to explode.

They coughed from the thick smoke. "That bastard is crazy!"

Suddenly, he had a gun pointed in his face. "Take the ropeway out," Hiriluk ordered, "Take me to the castle."

-

Chopper was surprised at the door bursting open. Kureha. "Where's Hiriluk?!" The panicked reindeer began running all over the room in fear. "You don't have to run away! I know about you!" To her chagrin, he didn't stop. "I'm asking you where the quack went!"

Chopper hid feebly behind the table. "D-Doctor got better, so he went to the town."

"Got better? He doesn't get better." She walked up to him, hands on her hips. "He can't be cured with the current medical science."

"That's not true! Look at this!" He held up half of the mushroom. "He's fine now, because he ate this!"

Kureha gawked in horror. "That's... an Amiudake Mushroom!"

"This is an all-purpose medicine! So he's fine now! Doctor said that he felt full of energy too!" She glared. "I will learn to be a doctor from Doctor." Suddenly, a punch from Kureha sent him flying into the wall. "What was that for?" He demanded angrily, then was thrusted up, and thrown into a cupboard.

"You stupid reindeer! That mushroom is..." She choked up, and tears started falling. "That mushroom is... extremely poisonous! Once you eat it, you'll be dead within half a day!"

"What?" Chopper looked back, now terrified.

Kureha collapsed down to sit on the floor. "That's why that idiot..."

"That can't be true. I looked it up in a book... though I lost that book. It's a mushroom that can defeat diseases!" 'That's why I raised this skull towards all the diseases!' "That's right! There was a skull right next to the Amiudake Mushroom picture!" He remembered, as Kureha was silent with despair. "Doctor also said he got better! There's no way he'll die! You're a liar!"

-

"Paddle faster! Hurry up!" Hiriluk commanded. "Seconds count!"

-

"He was happy about your thoughts," Kureha recalled, "The skull in the book indicates poison."

"That's a lie!" Chopper glared.

"That's not a lie! Remember it!" She snapped. "There's no medicine that can work for all the diseases in this world. That's why doctors exist!"

"That's not true!"

"Listen. You can't save people just by being kind! If you want to save them, then learn medical knowledge and skills! Without skill, you can't save anyone!" Chopper started sobbing right then and there. "You idiot." She calmly picked up her sunglasses from the floor.

-

"Wapol-sama! Hiriluk is heading to this castle!"

"So he got tricked!" Wapol laughed. "What an idiot!"

'Is he serious?' Dalton thought. 'Why? What for?'

-

"He'll no longer come back to this house." Kureha grabbed a bottle of plum sake. "Looks like he decided the castle is his graveyard."

-

"Take me to the patients!" Hiriluk ordered. "I came to save the Twenty MDs!" But to his confusion, his would-be patients stood around in front of him, in perfect health. "What?"

Wapol laughed evilly, as he sat on Robson in the middle of the horde. "You idiot! You still don't get it?! It was a trap! As you can see, the Twenty MDs are just fine! You came here to die, Dr. Hiriluk."

'Why did he come here?' Dalton thought.

"Guards, ready..." They all pointed their guns at him. All the while, Chopper was making a mad dash for the castle.

"So that was all..." Hiriluk fell to his knees in relief, "Good. So none of them are sick? I was convinced... that this was a national crisis." Tears fell into the snow. "So it was just a trick."

"Humph!" Wapol scoffed. "If it really was a national crisis, I wouldn't want someone like you! Pay no attention. Execute him!"

"Don't bother," He held his hand out. "You guys can't kill me."

"Huh?"

"Hey..." He looked up at Wapol, feeling weaker and weaker, "When do you think a person dies? When a bullet from a pistol pierces his heart? No... when he's attacked by an incurable disease? No... when he eats a deadly, poisonous mushroom soup? No!" A determined Chopper walked up the ropeway, as Kureha stayed in the house. "A man dies when people forget him." Dalton felt choked up, as Hiriluk casually poured a concoction into a vial. "Even if I disappear, my dream will come true. The citizens' sickness of the heart will be cured as well. Why're you crying, Dalton-kun?"

"I wonder," He paid no mind to his tears streaming down his face, "If it's the same for a country."

Hiriluk smiled. "Yeah, if there's someone to pass it on to."

"Hey, hey, Dalton! What're you crying for?" Wapol demanded, but went unanswered.

"Soon, a monster will come here," He continued, "He's my son. Don't hurt him." He became quiet, as blood leaked from his mouth. 'Don't worry, Chopper. Your mushroom can't kill me.' "I had... such a good title!"

"Goodbye, quack," Kureha downed more sake in despair.

He confidently drank up the vial. "Thank you, Chopper! " Right after... he exploded! His hat flew down, and landed in front of Chopper on the snow. He stared at it in horror; he was too late. He couldn't save him.

As the shell-shocked Dalton and the guards looked on, Wapol laughed heartlessly. "He blew himself up! What an idiot!"

Hearing him, Chopper started seething with anger. He then grew into his large form, with a roar of fury, and trampled up to the castle.

"Ahh!"

"What's that?!"

"It's a monster!"

"Shoot him! Shoot him!"

"Ahhh!" He roared dangerously.

"Wait!" Dalton blocked his way without harming him, turning into his bull form, and pinned him to the ground. "Leave... leave here! When you can't even defeat me... you can't possibly defeat them!" Tears of regret continued falling. "For laughing at Hiriluk's death, I apologize!" Chopper eased up at that. "Without enough power, you'll just die in vain. Don't sacrifice yourselves any longer for this country. Please..."

"Huh?" Wapol watched, as Chopper walked down the ropeway. "You let him get away, Dalton."

"Shut up! You still don't get it? The only man who tried to save this sick country has just died. When everyone gave up and despaired, a kind doctor who tried to save this country died!"

"So what if someone like that dies?" Wapol dismissed heartlessly.

"I saw the path that this country should take. It should die out. As long as we stay here, it won't be rebuilt, because, even if medical care progresses, even if the research on medicine continues," Dalton glared in the king's direction, "There's no medicine that can cure fools!"

"I let you have your say," Wapol growled, "You made me really angry!"

-

"Please!" A sobbing Chopper begged outside of Kureha's house. "Please teach me to be a doctor!" He was waving Hiriluk's flag, with his top hat hung on a stick close by. "I'll become the all-purpose medicine! I'll become a doctor who can cure anything! I'll cure even a country! Because... because... there's no disease in this world that can't be cured!"

Kureha watched for several seconds, as he cried wordlessly. "Call me... Doctorine."

-

At the castle, Dalton was thrown in the dungeon. "I won't... die. I will carry on his will."

-

Venus blinked tears out of her eye. "That's so sad."

"So for the 6 years since then, Tony-kun has been studying under you," Nami almost whispered.

"Yeah. I taught him everything I know."

"Doctorine! Doctorine!"

"Ahh!" Luffy glared from a window up above. "That bastard!"

Wapol. "I've finally returned!"

"That annoying mouth!" Luffy raged.

"Now, we're restoring the Drum Kingdom!"

Chopper burst into the room, resembling a normal reindeer. "Doctorine! There's a problem! Wapol is back!"

Kureha smiled calmly. "Is that so."

[confessions-official]

heyyyy, I am actually sorry for dumping like four of these novels onto you ppl who run official-confessions, I dont have anyone to ramble about all this too and its nice to just anonymously dump it and have a couple ppl acknowledge it lol. I also feel kinda lame for just how much I love plants now like it feels a lil cringe but also im having fun.

BUT its happy almost a month anniversary since I bought my first plant and uhhhhhhhhhhhh I am now known as the person who loves plants at school. the friend said recently "oh yeah you love your plants dont you", which feels like such an acknowledgment of my new passion lol, I've painted plants for class and the teacher asked about mine, I spoke with that other person about that neglected monstera again that they honestly should just take home fr, My dad drove me to a bigger and far better plant center that was genuinely the first time I actually enjoyed myself when leaving the house in like 6 years, my dad and his girlfriend spent the weekend digging up plants at her place to bring home just for me to pot up and care for. I am so much happier. I make an effort every now and then to get out and look for plants I can take home, my dad and I actually have something to bond over now, his thumb is kinda green and he's also bought some new plants for inside! I get genuinely excited about plants,,,, I got to watch my monstera and pothos's leaves unfurl during the week ive had them AND both have new leaves on the way, Ive been taking photos so I can look back at those leaves when they were babys, ALL of the spider plants are fucking thriving, all of my philo cuttings are rooting as are the string or pearls cuttings (tho the main plant is very dead whoops). I feel like I've learned so much and gained a lot of experience in just a month, even tho its really not been long enough at all these lil guys have just taken over my life and I couldnt be more pleased, I have so many plans for them, when the philo cuttings root enough to be potted some of them are going in the living room and my dad said he'd help care for them, i just put some spider plants in there and it looks so nice... dads also going to install another shelf in my room just for plants and !!!! I have ideas for what ones Im going to get next month, if i can find them. It genuinely has been so rewarding watching these plants grow, like that monstera has an entire new leaf!!! that wasnt there a week ago!!! how cool is that!!! and those roots on the philo cuttings!!! who am i.

 

[squish--squash]

Thanks for answering my ask......If you don't mind me asking (again), what are your top 10 (or top 7) favorite media (can be books/ manga/ anime/movies/tv series)? Why do you love them? Sorry if you've answered this question before......Thanks....

lol hello again, ty for asking me this! I promise I'll give you more than 7 answers this time lol

Tian Guan Ci Fu/tgcf (book series, donghua) - I stumbled upon this randomly back in 2021 through its brand new donghua and I've loved it ever since. I adore the characters and the plot is both extremely complex and absolutely wild. it's roughly 750,000 words but I was able to read it in a week despite having school because I was so invested in it!

Moriarty the Patriot/mtp (manga, anime)- I think this is funny bc I tried watching bbc sherlock once and did NOT like it, so I just thought I wasn't into the sherlock holmes stuff. WRONG! I just had to discover this. I call this the "best sherlock holmes adaptation" for a reason (check my current pinned post, you'll find many reasons why I love mtp; I don't want to sound like a broken record so I don't plan to repeat them). I can't wait for when (or if) the manga comes out of its break/hiatus

Good Omens (book, show) - both the book and the miniseries/show are so near and dear to my heart. I always have a soft spot for watching supernatural entities fall in love (with each other and) the world around them. also, it's funny as hell

Promare (movie) - goooood I love Promare it's so neat; love the colors and the shapes and the plot is fun despite its simplicity. I could rewatch this movie every day for a month straight and not get tired of it

Arc of a Scythe trilogy (book series) - this is not something I've talked about a love, but this is one of my favorite book series! found it back around the same time I did tgcf; it's fucking insane I loooove the worldbuilding and the main cast, and by the second book every other page was like a plot twist gutting me in the best way possible; it's made me ponder about life and death on more than one occasion too

Matched trilogy (book series) - I started reading this in either 5th/6th grade but didn't really get it so I kinda forgot about it until around 2021-2022 (what? I actually had time to READ that year!) and managed to reread it and it was like a third eye opened. I really enjoyed the mystery unfolding in the trilogy! it's pretty cool imo, even tho I think (?) it was meant for teenagers to read

Not So Shoujo Love Story (webcomic) - this webcomic is so fucking funny AND it's wlw! I've been a fan for years it's so good

Bee and Puppycat/Bee and Puppycat: Lazy in Space (show) - a comfort show of mine (one of many); I'm in love with the atmosphere of the show and how awkwardly real the dialogue tends to be (plus I've been slowly rewatching it with my gf with is always a plus <3); I love both the og and its "reboot" equally, and would recommend people watch both

Snow White with the Red Hair (anime) - I haven't read the manga for this one, but I've seen the anime and it's another comfort show of mine. It's so sweet and cozy and the entire cast is lovable; even the "bad guy" in the first season is someone you grow to root for by the end of the second season. it's great!

Supernatural (show) - even tho I haven't finished the show and idk when/if I ever will, I still consider it a favorite media of mine. not bc I think it's great (it's good in most places, lacking in other), but bc I pretty much grew up with it. I have a core memory of watching the first handful of episodes when I was younger with my dad on the couch with the first time and being hooked on this strange show about supernatural creatures (I was that kid that enjoyed the supernatural! I read ghost story books, I binged every Goosebumps book I could get my hands on in fourth grade, I had a creepypasta phase, etc); even now in 2024 I've been sitting down with my dad to rewatch it with him before I go back to my college dorm and start back up classes. it's less so one of my favorite medias because I think it's good but because I associate it with my family <3

[inkwell-intrigues]

I think you had already said it but I got lost. Why did you rewrite the whole story for Chalice? He became like your favorite character and that's why the change of prominence? Will it stop being a story focused on brothers? I say because from writer to writer it is really difficult to keep several protagonists at the same time with the same importance, but if there are 3, one ends up overshadowing the rest no matter how hard you try, there are cases where there may be a little exception but for very little. My real question is... Was it a completely necessary change to rewrite everything? Maybe add parts of the importance of Chalice later or intertwine them with a detail that you wrote in previous chapters...

I am sorry for any inconvenience of grammatical type or coherence and cohesion. English is not my main language, much less one that I master.

No worries! So- I'm not rewriting the whole story for specifically Chalice, while she is a protagonist, she will get less "screen time" than the brothers, who are and will remain the main focus.

My reason for a rewrite is simply that I feel that the current version of TSTS is not 100% the story I meant to tell.

I got a little lost along the way, going, I believe, far too in depth into the backstory of Ginette (Don't worry- Gin isn't going away, but I focused on her too much, I think), the plot's pacing began to slow down after chapter 13 and onward, and I just lost track of the story I wanted to tell.

As for Chalice: For me, TSTS is about a family that has been torn apart and how families can survive terrible things, and grow to include more people! Chalice is a vital part of that family, and in the current draft I kind of overlooked Chalice. Now, I don't technically need to have her play a bigger role, but I want to. I want Chalice to play a bigger part because I believe she has an important story to tell - one that I strongly resonate with. (But here's a fun fact- she isn't actually my favorite character at all! That honor goes to Mugman! xD But, I advocate for Chalice because I believe so strongly in the story that I want her to tell.)

Additionally, Chalice has a HUGE role to play in the finale, but I didn't develop her well enough in the initial draft for her role in the finale to feel satisfying. (But you are right- 3 protagonists is EXHAUSTING, but I made a few changes that I think will balance it well!)

Now to clarify, I'm not going to rewrite everything. Chapters 7-12 are what I'm calling my "golden standard", so those and some others (Chp. 15, 20, etc.) will not undergo massive changes. What I want is to reshape TSTS's current writing into something that better matches the dream story that has haunted my brain for the past 5 years or so. Of course the dream has changed and been shaped by the DLC, by the Cuphead Show, and by you guys- all my wonderful readers! - but I still hold onto parts of that original story. Parts I almost lost in trying to finish a story while very burnt out. I want to be able to honor those nearly lost parts of the story.

Was it a completely necessary change to rewrite everything?

Depends on who you ask. And once again, I'm not rewriting everything!

But, was the rewrite necessary? For me it was.

This story means a lot to me and has a lot of roots in my own childhood and experiences. It's my baby in some ways, one that will have its 6 year anniversary this summer. I want it to be as perfect as I can get it, not just for me, but for all the people it represents and all of the readers that my words have somehow managed to touch.

Thank you for your question, and I hope my word vomit of an answer makes sense! Also, don't worry - your English is very easy for me to read!

Thank you so much for your support and I hope you have an amazing day!

- Ink

[eudikot]

you're a researcher!! that's so cool! if you don't mind me asking, what do you do?

Thank you for the ask, I love talking about my research!! Currently, I'm working on studying barley and its interaction with Pseudomonas fluorescens using a clear hydrogel media instead of soil. I got interested in this project because I think that the ability to grow plants in hydrogel instead of soil to study their roots is such a cool thing, and since I'm majoring in both plant and microbial biotechnology adding the bacterial aspect helps bring everything I'm working on all together (and is something I can make a paper out of). Then to add biotechnology into the equation, we added GFP (green fluorescent protein) into the bacteria, which causes them to glow green when hit with UV light and viewed under a filter. This makes it easier to see the bacteria on the roots.

Because this projects excites me so much and has some cool pictures, I have to share some. The first picture are roots without any bacteria and the second one has the bacteria. Feel free to take a second and see if you can identify any differences between the two images.

The first noticeable thing I see is within the hydrogel itself. The non-bacterial control has a much darker background, likely because there are no bacteria to fluoresce in it. However, you may notice that the roots still have a glow to them. That's actually because plants have autofluorescence based on the proteins/chemicals they produce which was visible through the filter. Now, the things that stand out to me on the bacterial roots compared to the regular ones are that they almost have a rougher appearance, likely due to the bacteria colonies growing on it. And then there is the bright spots of bacteria that are not present on the bacteria-free roots. Seeing such a stark difference so easily (since I have been looking at images of these for a while now and know what I'm looking for) honestly blew me away when this actually seemed to work.

Also, just to talk about autofluorescence again, the chlorophyll in the leaves make the plants so bright in this system. I mean look at that leaf!! I never though I'd see such a pretty plant (the last one looks slightly different from the rest because it was taken with my phone instead of the microscope camera, but catches the entire autofluorescence really well).

And to wrap this whole spiel up, let me give a little background on where I started with doing research. I actually started out by doing data analysis on differential gene expression, or the differences in expression under different conditions. A lot of analysis uses an "out of 100%" model if you will, and because of this if one gene changes expression a lot but everything else stays the same, it'll look like all those genes have lower expression compared to the one that changed even if they might not. You can see how that might be a bit of a problem. I was testing a new R package that would compare gene expression in a different way to bypass this problem and more clearly see what is actually happening to different genes.

Because I was just helping a bit on this project I never saw its conclusions before moving onto other things. I took a side off of that project to get a grant and do a systematic review on how other researchers are describing their gene expression clustering, since in R you need to define the clustering method (how different groups are compared to one another) and the number of clusters you want. Because these are human entered and can change the outcome of the data you're analyzing, it's important that what you do can be replicated, but a lot of researchers were very vague in even what packages they used to cluster. I'm still finishing up that work so hopefully I'll be able to publish a paper on it soon.

Then I've also had fun helping some of our grad students with barley biomass measurements and, my absolute favorite, soil microbe DNA extraction. That student is using differences in the soil microbiome to see if it has an impact on the growth of the barley, and is actually what inspired me to student plant-microbe interactions!