#but it's a bit of a pain to have to have to change the rods out so often!

[futuristic-science]

Looking back when I first started to learn about welding and engineering, it's pretty funny-- I started off originally arc welding, since that's the first type of welding I was taught.

...And I was really bad at it.

I'm a fairly jumpy person, so every time the arc would spark, I would jump, and that would either extinguish the arc or stick it to the metal.

Or I would tap it too lightly and it wouldn't spark

I'm glad I learned arc welding first, now, but I have to say MIG will forever be much easier!

[peachesvault]

Swallows the tears

Friend!Bakugou x Reader

𖦹*ੈ‧ 𓇼 ₊˚𓆝 The conversations under the spray have changed. | Pt 1

A/n: Felt a bit angsty hehe but i won't do him dirty on his bday so ill make another part if people want a non angsty one. Wrote this one before the other so it might be a bit whack Not proofread pls tell if smths glaring

Katsuki bakugou was a lot of things. He grew up being the strongest, the loudest, the boldest, everywhere he went. He stared danger in the eye, and no matter what was thrown at him, he always managed to overcome it by gritting his teeth and powering through the pain with nothing but sheer willpower. The one thing he was not, was weak.

Yet here he was. Completely broken down in your arms under the scalding hot spray of the shower as you both laid there bruised and bloody, just two unfortunate kids who had nobody except each other and the weight of the world on their backs.

Maybe weak wasn’t the right word.

It was routine by this point, after a particularly hard battle you and him would sit under the spray, letting it swallow up both your tears. Completely raw and vulnerable, it was the darkest moments as you both shared your weight of pressure, expectations, grief. It wasn't easy, but you both made an effort to be there for the other. The showers knew the deepest secrets between the two of you, the insecurities, the ugly parts nobody in the class knew either of you had.

But this time it was so fucking hard. You wanted to be a good friend but there was nothing that could be said. You were both hurting so deep, anything else would just rip deeper into the wound that you both shared like birthmarks. So similar yet so different.

"It's going to be okay" he murmured bleeding out. To convince you or himself it wasn't clear.

You couldn't bring yourself to respond. You tried to grab his hand but only your finger twitched from the weight. You hummed.

The water showered down harshly, stinging like knives into the open wounds that littered both your bodies, imprinting itself like a burning iron rod. Painful. Searing. Agonizing and claiming.

Yet neither of you screamed.

People with much more willpower would have.

Neither of you had any fight left. It was easier to take it, the suffering was the same either way. There was no difference in trying to stem the damage.

"Maybe being a hero isn't worth it" He whispered.

You couldn't even bring yourself to be surprised at the Bakugou Katsuki saying that. Because you agreed.

You remember the day you genuinely became friends. The day he asked you to call him Katsuki. You had thought it was a joke. Asked him why. 'Your drive' had been his response.

Now neither of you had any drive. You laughed dryly

"It isn't"

Red eyes blinked at you.

"What did you say?"

.

"It isn't worth it"

Maybe this was the worst part. The boiling water rolling down your body turned ice cold when you saw his questioning eyes. Despite the needles stabbing your throat, you forced yourself to speak up.

You had to be wrong.

"Being a hero isn't worth it."

You got no response.

"Katsuki" you whispered broken.

He just stared at you, soaked to the bone. Yet it didn't hide the tear that rolled down his face.

In that moment, you knew he realized nothing would ever be the same again. You sucked in a pained breath as you repositioned to wrap your arms weakly around him.

“Katsuki, its okay”

“I promise”

You continued murmuring subconsciously but he wasn’t reacting to anything you said, he just stared blankly at your lips.

You pressed your palm to his cheek. He always hated that look of pity in your eyes, but he would give anything to hear it again.

Your blood mixed with his like a bonding ritual before washing down the drain. Just two unfortunate kids.

Do not plagiarise/copy/post on other platforms. All work is @peachesvault original works. || Masterlist

Taglist: @idontwannatalkrn1 @bratzblondie (Ik u didnt ask buttt)

[byllsbytch]

Halloween Party 🎃 (18+)

Nicholas Alexander Chavez

Genre : Smut

Summary: Dressed up as pirates you and Nicolas head out to a party, it turns out to be a great time and toward the end of the night things start to get heated.

A/N: Due to popular demand - the Halloween party plot was most voted upon so here ya go!

Warnings: p in v (tbh i dont know whats a warning)

I sat on the floor in front of the mirror. Makeup all around me. It was chaos, organised chaos though. I reached over to a fresh pack of eyelashes and placed them on to finish the look. Fuck I was smoking and I wasn’t even done. I leant over behind me to my curling iron and turned it on waiting for it to heat up. While waiting I scrolled through my phone and a message from Nick popped up on my screen.

“You’re gonna love my costume, I’ll be over soon.”

I smiled at his message before putting my phone down and reaching for the curling iron. We planned to go to the party together as pirates. I wrapped my hair around the rod and held it for a few seconds repeating the steps until I’d curled all of my hair.

Once I was finished I grabbed a bandana and wrapped it around my head. Finally I got changed into fishnets, boots, a skirt, white button up shirt and vest. I walked to the living room and loaded up my cooler bag with drinks and a pack of lollies I bought to get into the spirit.

“You’re looking good.” Mum called from the couch.

I smiled knowing damn straight I did.

“Thank you Mum.”

“Nicholas is still tagging along yeah?”

“Yeah he is, why wouldn’t he be?”

“Well, he’s cutting it a bit fine isn’t he?”

I looked at the clock.

“Yeah, but we’re in no rush.”

She shrugged her shoulders.

“OK then.”

Almost on cue a knock appeared at the door and I answered to be met with Captain Jack Sparrow.

“You look so good!” I shrieked. “Stop it!”

He looked at the ground a large grin on his face.

After the praise he looked back up and his eyes were stuck on me, his face going redder.

“Woah! You look gorgeous, who knew a pirate could be so HAWT!”

He took a step inside and followed me to my room.

“Can I please put eyeliner on you?”

In character he bowed, “Of course m’lady”

I pushed him onto the bed, straddling him with my eyeliner in hand.

“Ok baby, so you have to keep your eyes open and look up.”

He hummed in agreement.

I brought the pencil to his waterline while he brought his hands to my hips slowly rubbing his thumbs in a circular motion.

His eye twitched like crazy. “Eh! Uh, Uh!” He groaned.

“Shh Nick! Stop being a baby, relax your eye.”

“Oh my god! It’s not relaxing! I don’t know if you can tell… Jesus how do you do this?”

He gripped tighter onto my hips as I started on his other eye, digging his nails into me. I folded backwards yowling in pain.

“Fuck! Ouch!”

Nicholas quickly jumped up from underneath me with instant regret.

“Oh my god babe I’m so sorry.”

“What is going on here!” Mum screamed.

Me and Nick both flung our heads into her direction.

“Oh,” She said quietly. “Nice eyeliner Nicholas.” Before turning back around and heading out the door.

We both look at eachother in silence then began to lose it, laughing hysterically.

“We better go.” I tried to say in between laughs.

I got up and reached my hand out to him, he grabbed my hand and wiped his tears with the other hand.

I grabbed the bag full of drinks and headed out the door, it wasn’t long until our friends swung by and picked us up.

-

Arriving at the party the music was already loud and bumping, the house was decorated nicely. Lights and projections illuminated the exterior of the home.

Me and Nick walked in hand in hand and began to mingle with all the other party goers. The house was packed with people and we were all cramped like sardines.

Once the liquid confidence kicked in, I joined Nick to the dance floor. Nick was being funny and bopped his head, pouting his lips. I giggled at his silly-ness and swayed my hips to the music, keeping my eyes on his. The music was upbeat and Nicholas grabbed my hand spinning me. We danced together and sang all the songs at the top of our lungs. It was so much fun.

We became sweaty messes and Nicholas took my hand as not to loose me dragging me outside to the cooler air.

“Oh this is much better.” I groaned fanning my face with a paper plate I picked up from the buffet table. Nick stood behind me and lifted my hair off my neck.

“Thanks babe, how’d you know?” I laughed.

“You’re gonna have to do the same to me in a minute, this wig is so fucking hot.”

I turned around, him letting go of my hair, placing a hand on his chest.

“That wig IS so fucking hot.”

He rolled his eyes with a chuckle and I lifted the heap of hair off his neck, fanning him now with the plate.

“Fuck this sweat and all this makeup, I cannot wait for a shower.”

Nick grinned looking me up and down. “Me too.”

“I’m gonna get us a drink. Objections?”

I shook my head. “None whatsoever.”

He took off back into the crowd and loud music.

I scanned around me and seen people jumping in the pool, other drinking and then a girl laying in the bush, spew all around her. Yikes.

I walked over to the food table and grabbed some munchies placing them on a plate for me and Nick to share. I then walked back to where I was before so Nick would loose me.

After a while he came back with drinks.

“They’re doing beer pong in there if you want to play.”

I gestured the plate toward him and he grabbed a mozzarella stick.

“Sure, can we finish our drinks out here and then go in?”

“Yeah of course darling.” He wrapped his free arm around me rubbing my shoulder.

Nicholas spun his head toward the girl in the bush and made a disgusted face. “Eh. Nobody see this?”

“I don’t think anyone cares to be honest.”

“She’s sleeping good alright.”

I sipped my drink and once I got to the last mouthful I downed it.

Me and Nicholas walked back into the muggy house and felt the heat instantly his us. The smell of sweat and booze lingered. I noticed that the house was all foggy whether that was a result of a smoke machine or the many vapers in the house I couldn’t tell at first. Judging by the fruity smell it was the vapes.

I stood behind Nicholas as he played his turn at beer pong, cheering him on. He managed to get 3 cups before missing on his fourth attempt. The chick opposing him absolutely crushed his team, dunking 7 cups in a row.

Later on in the night I had a girl spill her drink on me and I was so fucking ready to fight her. I grabbed all of my hair and started to tie it up, to which Nicholas grabbed me and pulled me away.

“It’s not worth it!” He yelled over the music.

I looked at him and instantly calmed down.

“Just wait here I’ll get you some paper towel.”

“I’ll meet you in the bathroom.” I yelled back so he could hear me.

I’d seen the line to the bathroom and threw my head back in annoyance. I leant on the wall with my arms folded waiting for the queue to die down.

Nicholas found me and looked around before shaking his head.

“Come.” He said holding onto my hand and taking me upstairs.

“Nicholas, we shouldn’t be up here.”

“Pft, it’s fine, no one will know.”

He lead me into one of the bedrooms which had a bathroom connected to it.

I hoisted myself up onto the bench which Nicholas soaked the paper towel handing me one, I scrubbed at my t shirt while he wiped the drink off my chest. He stopped what he was doing and looked me in the eyes with a hunger.

I lifted my head up noticing his sudden halt. He’d placed his hand on the spot of my chest he was cleaning previously and then moved his hand up toward my neck, his hand pushed back until my head touched the mirror behind.

I spread my legs making room for Nick to get in between them. He came closer and tucked the hair out of my face all the while I wrapped my legs around his waist.

He kept his hand behind my ear, continuing to look at me with desire. We stayed in this passionate encounter for a couple second before Nicholas had brought his soft lips to mine. He tasted of spirits, making me drunker by the second. I’d had fully given into him.

I wrapped my fingers into his hair, slipping my tongue into his mouth as he sucked on it. Our tongues went to war for dominance, with Nick’s ultimately winning.

“Best get this dirty top off, I don’t think that stain is coming out my love.” He managed to hush out in between our kiss. Immediately I obliged taking off my vest while Nicholas undid the buttons of the white shirt. He stood back to watch himself slip the shirt of my shoulders, admiring me.

“You’re just too perfect my beautiful.” He closed the gap between us, holding my face in his hands. I felt him poking me. “Ouh!” I moaned excitedly moving my hands down to his pants and rubbing his bulge. I yanked at the top of his pants and he groaned lowly as a way to give permission. I began to have a go at his belt. Trying to rush and get his buckle undone quick only made it harder for me so I had to break the kiss and focus on getting the belt undone. Nicholas was panting and looking down at what my hands were doing.

“Mhmm, that’s it baby, you got it, good job” He encouraged me, making me instantly look at him for his validation. He nodded, causing a big smile to approach my face. He wasted no time sliding his pants down. He forced his way between my legs and I brought my feet up to the edge of the counter giving him full access.

His fat cock sprung free and I began to stoke him, teasing him. He threw his head back thrusting into my hand. He lifted my skirt over my thighs and pulled my panties to the side, exposing my wet pussy. He spat on his hand for extra lubrication and slipped his fingers between my wet folds, inserting two fingers. I stopped all movement, especially stroking Nick and gasped, reaching my hand out to grasp anything. He slowly pumped his fingers in and out of me before he teased my entrance with his tip. I flung my knuckle to my mouth and bit it, a weak attempt to silence my pleasurable screams, not that anyone would have heard it through the load music that echoed through the walls.

Nicholas kept his eye on me to watch my reactions, he was pretty good to take notice on what to do, if I didn’t like something or if he should keep going. Judging by the look on my face his had the green light to go faster.

I leant my head back and let the pleasure take over me, Nicks dick repeatedly hit all the right spots. I wrapped my hands around his neck for support and Nick leant in to continue the passionate make out. He slid his tongue to the back of my throat and licked my teeth.

He took it upon himself to lift me. With the back of my knees being supported by his forearms his repeatedly lifted me and dropped me back down onto his member. I buried my head into his neck and dug my nails deep into his back, making scratches that left welts.

“Uh-huh right there.” My words started to become gibberish, as I felt myself coming close to orgasm.

“Nick, uh, right there, right there, right there.” My pitch became higher and my words faster. He continued thrusting into me.

“I’m gonna cum!” I screamed twitching in his arms, my eyes rolled back into ecstasy and I continued to ride out my high. Nicholas placed me back onto the counter before giving his final few pumps, trying to chase his high. At this point I was overstimulated and really sensitive.

“Nicky Baby! It hurts!”

“I’m right ther-“ Before he could finish his sentence he released his load and folded in half, collapsing on top of me.

We both panted loudly and Nick looked back up at my face smiling with a light chuckle.

I placed my hand on his abs and shook my head with a smile.

“Are you ok?” He asked inbetween pants.

Unable to say anything I just nodded with my eyes half closed in satisfied relaxation.

“You were so fucking good baby.” He said planting a kiss on my forehead.

Nick handed me his shirt, “Just put this on, I’ll hold onto your dirty shirt.”

“And you’re just going to walk around half naked?”

He stared at his pecs in the mirror, “Well yeah, I don’t plan on staying for long, I think we have a date with the shower.”

I laughed and shook my head standing up, my legs were wobbly and I couldn’t walk properly for the life of me.

“Yeah I think we should go now, lets not worry about hanging around.”

Nicholas raised his eyebrow at me standing awkwardly

“Shit, I’m sorry babe.”

“It’s fine, as long as you make it up by round 2 in the shower and cuddles and candy in bed.”

He nodded, “Agreed.”

Nicholas was distracted by his reflection again.

“Sorry I gotta say fuck captain jack sparrow looks good shirtless” He winked and clicked his tongue then walked to the door.

“You bet your ass!” I said, following him out the door and slapping him on the ass.

[thereweredragonshere]

Dragon with a metal as fuck (literally) prosthetic wing!!

More Prosper content :D I feel an indescribable amount of love for this dragon. And the cool ass wing designs I can give her.

Even though the entire concept of this prosthetic functioning is quite literally impossible, I still put some actual thought into the design’s fictional functionality (hey that was alliteration).

The wing is piloted with a rod that is connected to her remaining organic wing that synchronises the movements (think Toothless’ automatic tailfin). The fingers of the wing are connected together at the top and don’t all independently move, it’s based on a rig that is controlled by the very outer finger. If that one is half folded in the other 5 fingers will correspond with that, if it is fully extended the other five will correspond with that etc etc. The fact that her wings have to by synchronised is by no means easy to operate. She cannot do most basic manoeuvres in the air, even turning to the left/right whilst in flight is extremely dependant on her secondary hip wings and her tail fins. It is nowhere near having a real, attached to her body wing, but it still gives her the ability to fly again. And long distance flying is still a pain in the ass because the massive scars all along the right side of her body get irritated after a while.

A lot of the thought behind the design came from how odd it felt that httyd 3 just… got rid of Toothless’ disability? Like yeah he was still missing a tail fin but it might as well just have grown back. He has a new, fully functional, doesn’t need to be taken off, apparently doesn’t even need maintenance, fire proof and extremely durable prosthetic that just allowed him to function as if he wasn’t disabled? In the Viking age as well?? Even in the modern day we don’t have prosthetics that can fully restore permanent, none skin irritating, doesn’t need to be fixed up ‘replacement’ limbs. Yes there are some very high quality prosthetic limbs that can restore a lot of functionality and give a very good quality of life, but it is not a new limb. It’s a prosthetic. It doesn’t change the fact that there is a missing body part. It doesn’t completely replace every single functionality of a real limb? The film just entirely disregarded that fact that Toothless had a disability. Just slap a technologically impossible bit of gear work on his tail and BOOM he’s fixed. No that’s not how that works you fucking idiot 😭 His skin would get irritated, the fin would eventually need to be repaired because again IT WAS THE MEDIEVAL ERA. I know Hiccup was smart but girl he was not smart enough to invent an indestructible replacement body part. We can’t do that in 2024, let alone 1000 or whenever the fuck httyd is set.

Anyway going off that rant, whilst Prosper does regain the ability to fly, it is very limited, not for long periods of time and kind of painful. Because that’s what happens when you get a whole ass limb torn from your body. It tends to hurt and not be ‘fixable.’

[xuchiya]

the last bell before midnight || deleted scene || ot8

| genre: TV Show AU. Zombie AU. Thriller-Comedy. angst | mentions: . fake blood. seonghwa.

part 1 || part 2 || part 3 || epilogue

Dawn had only just begun to break over the school’s rooftop, painting the sky in bleeding shades of crimson and gold. The air was sharp and cold, yet the promise of survival had kept your heart pounding with hope. You’d made it out. With scratches, small wounds or ripped jackets or pants but in all of these fiasco that unfold within the past hours inside the school grounds, you were able to get out all together.

 Seonghwa leaned heavily against you, arm around your shoulder as you all walk, sweat beading on his forehead. His body was hot—burning, almost—like a fever that wouldn’t let up. Beads of sweat rolled down his temple. His hands trembled. Veins along his neck pulsed an unnatural black-blue, and his eyes flickered—human one second, void-like the next. The transformation was slow—despite taking the two antidotes but it had been past 5 minutes when he was bitten, but the signs were there; veins darkening, his pupils twitching unnaturally, breath catching.

“Almost there,” you whispered to him. “Just a bit more…”

But the world was cruel. And fate was never kind; a guttural screech echoed from the stairwell.

Then another. Then a monstrous, unholy roar.

All of you were frozen, you were all halfway towards the front gate of the school. The only exit that is given to you after choosing Seonghwa over mercy or containment. Seonghwa looked around confused as he breathed heavily, “W-What–?” Mingi and Yunho, hearing a commotion from afar, turn around and then their eyes widen in shock.

Grasp, Jongho and Yeosang in their hands, “Go go! — Hyung, in coming!” Wooyoung and San scream as they all took the lead of running ahead of the group. Before you could even register the sound, a heavy weight crashed into you from behind, slamming you onto the cold concrete. Your breath was knocked from your lungs, pain blooming across your back. The zombie above you snarled, its mouth gaping, teeth snapping inches from your throat.

“(Y/N)!” Hongjoong shouted. Yeosang halted in his tracks, rushed in, dragging the zombie off you, only to be knocked over by another. Yunho came next, swinging a broken metal rod, but it wasn’t enough. He was outnumbered. He, too, was overrun.

You kicked, screamed, thrashed. Your heartbeat in your ears, louder than your screams.You writhed, heart pounding, as teeth snapped inches from your face.

He hurled himself into the swarm like a weapon forged from pure will. He wasn’t just fighting—he was burning, veins glowing like molten iron beneath torn skin, eyes wild yet focused. He tore the zombie off of you with a roar, throwing it aside like it weighed nothing. His hands, though shaking, moved with frightening precision.

He grabbed Yeosang and shoved the zombie off of him. He grabbed Yunho’s arm and slammed the other zombie into the wall.

Not until the zombies attack him and bite on his shoulders. Your eyes widen, Yunho and Yeosang grabbing your arm as they pull you up, “Hwa!” “Hyung!” 

And somehow, he stood.

You scrambled to your feet, staring at him in disbelief, “H-Hwa.” 

He didn’t look at you. Couldn’t. His body was twitching. His jaw clenched. A tremor ran down his spine.“I’m almost gone,” he said through gritted teeth.“It’s getting harder to think…”

“No. No, you’re not—” You shook your head violently, reaching out. “You’re still you, Seonghwa. Please—”

He flinched backward, like your touch would break him, your mouth gape open in pain, “You need to go. All of you,” he said, voice trembling. “I’ll hold them off. But once I change... I can’t promise—”

“Then don’t change!” you cried, fighting against the two male holding you back. Behind you, Yunho and Yeosang maintain their grip on you. “Noona, we have to go.”

Tears spilled down your cheeks. You didn’t want to leave him. After choosing him, you didn’t want to waste the efforts of getting him out alive. Not like this. You squirm under Yunho’s grip, “No … Not without Seonghwa!”

Seonghwa looked up at you at last, and it was still him behind those eyes. Gentle. Brave. Tired, “I’m glad I got to save you,” he said softly. “Even if this is the end.”

Your head shakes as Yeosang glances at Yunho, indicating to do the last straw. He glanced at you— seeing that you were determined not to leave Seonghwa behind but if they were to stay — it would be a game over and all of them would be bitten and turned. Then Yeosnag took a small look at Seonghwa. 

His movement was subtle but it was enough for Yeosang to understand. With a sharp exhale, “Sorry noona…” No any warning, Yeosang threw you over his shoulders as he and Yunho started sprinting towards the gates. Your eyes widened, banging your fist on his back, fought, screamed, cried. “Let go of me Yeosang—… Seonghwa-yah!” 

A final screech sounded, closer than ever. Shadows swarmed the stairwell. The horde was coming. Seonghwa glanced at you one last time, a smile on his lips, the painful one, “It's okay ...” 

He turned, facing them with a newfound strength, like a knight making his final stand as the shrill, metallic ring tore through the silence and the hurd tackles Seonghwa. 

[itsabouttimex2]

Ok, ok, HEAR ME OUT-

How about lmk Monkeifam and Bullfam with a Y/N who isn't afraid to throw hands —

Like i mean in a response to trauma or manipulation, becouse i fell it isn't explore enough in this situation -

Sure, your loved that you belived was a friend trapped /kidnapped/gaslight you is heartbreaking and of course you are gonna be sad and more incline to behave butttt-

There is always the other way of absolute rage that comes in once you realized you have been trapped/kidnapped /gaslight ecc- like i don't care anymore, i wanna throw hands, those people are death to me.(even thought this isn't the smarter choice considering the strenght of some of the people here) like them breaking Y/N down so they can comfort them to manipulate them, but then unsurprisingly the get the biggest smack/punch of their life . Just- wow the audacity.

Throwing Hands

Bullfam & Monkiefam

“…is this some sort of pathetic attempt at ‘rebellion’, Y/N? I am not impressed.”

Your hands straight bounce. Like punching a bag of wet cement, the Demon Bull King’s skin just shifts around under your fists, never breaking or bruising. You only shatter yourself against it, leaving you worn and looking foolish.

He might not even punish you, given that it’s likely that you break a wrist on impact.

“Now, look what you’ve done to yourself, foolish child. Did you truly think your mortal flesh could stand a demon king’s might? Well, now you know better.”

You lost your temper and struck him. Immediately, you learn better than to do that ever again, and he considers it lesson enough.

Surprisingly merciful, all things considered. (Partially because he finds it somewhat funny.)

I once said in my yandere alphabet that: “Red Son doesn’t want to waste his time doing something like caning or whipping you”. And though I think that viewpoint is usually true…

This changes that. It’s maybe the only situation where he would actively engage in any form of normalized torture “corporal punishment”.

Being physically attacked switches Red from ‘mildly reasonable, if a bit hair-trigger’ to ‘vicious and cruel’. Through brute force alone does he wrestle you into submission, binding your arms behind your back with a pair of metal cuffs.

He tosses you onto the nearest bed and couch before burning the lower half of your clothing off. He then takes up a thin metal rod to utilize in “disciplining” you, sharply lashing it down against your now unprotected skin. He’ll leave puffy, bleeding welts from the top of your rear to the bottom of your thighs, ensuring that you won’t even be able to think about walking for at least a week.

Problem is that not only does it not solve the problem of you being scared and angry, it also just… makes him feel bad afterwards. It breaks him, seeing you weep brokenly over his bed. Blood sluggishly trickles from the skin he’s lashed open, and you scream your lungs out into the sheets as you try to adjust to the pain.

And then he “has to” (wants to, in truth) settle in for some awkward form of aftercare, offering lotion and bandages. When you don’t accept, he forces you to drink a cup of honeyed tea loaded with sedatives because you won’t stop shrieking.

Antiseptic while you’re asleep, a few stitches here and there, then the lotion and bandages he tried earlier. And then a few cautious back rubs, trying to calm your fitful slumber.

“Gods, Y/N… what have I done to you? I… I was just… I was… no, I… I’m sorry.”

An outright dodge. Princess Iron Fan has no time for your nonsense. For trying, she’ll lock you into whatever room has been set aside for you, barring the door with powerful magic.

One shallowly-filled bowl of food every two days, adding just a little bit more to it each day. One ceramic cup of room temperature water every four hours. A change of clothes every three days. Instead of brute force, Iron Fan teaches you through deprivation.

After a month of this, she might see fit you allow you back out of your room, letting you mingle with the family you have been forced to adopt.

After writing her a letter of apology, of course. Two pages. Pray you have the mind to keep your pencil steady.

So very many tears to deal with, probably on both ends. MK knows that he’s doing isn’t all that great, sure… but it’s because he loves you!

Can’t you love him back, please? Ok, he’s been manipulating you! Maybe he’s been driving some friends away! Maybe he’s sent a few clones to tail you around the city! But, please, please- you can’t stop loving him! He just can’t risk having you hurt!

“Please, Y/N! You don’t understand! I’m just trying to keep you safe! You can hit me again, hit me as many times as you want! Just- please, Y/N… I need you. Please…”

His last resort is stuffing you in Shuilian Cave, given that you can’t escape with his or Sun Wukong’s help. Maybe a few ropes to keep you in place. He’ll cry with each knot tied, begging you not to hate him.

Sun Wukong tanks your punch and gives your head a little pat, frowning at the display. “Sorry, bud. Trust me, I know I’m not exactly the good guy here. Go ahead and let it out. I… kinda deserve it, huh?”

The Great Sage knows you have every reason to be upset. Really, you do. All there’s only so much waylaying of emotions to be done, unfortunately. You were going to crack eventually.

He stands firmly in place, one hand rubbing your back while you break your fists against his body, watching you scream and cry. The man is just… unsurprised? He’s starting to realize that he messes up a lot of things.. So just letting you whale on him seems fair, gently trying to shush your angry tears while your skin grinds to bloody pulp against his shredded abdomen.

“How about I make us some tea,” he offers afterwards, surveying your destroyed hands. “And I’ll patch you up. Then… I think you’ve earned yourself an early bedtime for the rest of the week, bud.”

“Oh, kiddo. Do you know what “screwing up” is? After this, they’re gonna put your picture in the dictionary as an example.”

Macaque does not tolerate having hands laid on him. Not by friends, not by enemies. And certainly not by his little student, who is supposed to be wide-eyed and placid, in awe of his every move and strike.

You are supposed to be sweet and respectful. You are supposed to be kind and loving.

And he’s sure that with a little bit of “training”, he’ll get you back to that disposition.

He’ll snap his fingers with an angry snarl, shadows springing all around you like cold wires. You are gagged with a cold ebon muzzle, both your hands locked inside a cuff of swirling black and purple. You want to act like an animal? Macaque will chain you to the wall by your new muzzle and treat you like an animal.

Maybe a few days spent so on a chain so short you can’t lay down will teach you better than to raise a hand against “the only person who even loves you, Y/N!” ever again.

[ostensiblynone]

Liam Interview - Uncut Magazine | April 2000

[Part 1 March 2000]

Rumours of Liam Gallagher's transformation into a drug'n'drink free rock'n'roll saint have been greatly exaggerated. He's just as foul mouthed and furious as ever, as Carol Clerk found out when she met him for Part 2 of Uncut's Oasis special.

The location is London's flashy Landmark Hotel, a place where palm trees loom over drinkers in the lobby and there's a better class of toiletry in your bathroom. We meet in a private suite, not long before Christmas. Liam Gallagher enters, perfectly, in a flurry of swearing about "fucking caffeine" and "fucking cocaine." He's not the tallest man in the world, but his presence is colossal. He orders tea from room service, sits on the opposite side of a small table and stretches his legs.

The things you notice first are the things that become transfixing, the tinted glasses, of course; the tuft of mischievous, Rod Stewart sprigs at the top of a head of newly washed hair; the drawstrings dangling down his pants; the parka done up to its fur trimmed neck.

During the next hour, Liam is everything you want him to be, and a few things you never expected. By turns, he's impatient, angry, indignant, uncompromising, confessional and confrontational. He's driven, passionate to bursting point about everything that Oasis were, are and will be.

He's also suprising intense, hanging on to every word of every question as though he can barely wait to leap into his answers.

Exhibiting none of his brother's diplomacy, Liam smiles rarely and is quite oblivious to everything except the thoughts that must be uttered. That they are rising directly from his emotions says everything about qualities like honesty and honour.

Which is why Liam Gallagher, important beyond Oasis, is the only proper rock star in this country.

He is the living, breathing, ranting, raving spirit of rock 'n' roll.

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

How has your life changed since your son Lennon was born? I'm probably still in shock, you know what I mean, cos he's just a baby at the moment. I suppose he has changed my life, but not as in cleaned it - changed it, you know what I mean? He's just made me aware that I can't be what I used to be.

Have you seen any changes in yourself as a person? Little bits, little bits yeah. Well, I packed in the booze for a start.

Do you think you might have become a nicer person? Yeah, I am a bit nicer, yeah. I'm nice round him. I've always been a nice person, you know. I have bad days, but I've always been a pleasant kind of guy.

Is anything bigger than having a baby? No. It's gotta be the best thing. That's what we're here for, innit?

Were you at the birth? Yeah, oh aye. We were still recording, and I got in a car and came home. And like, it was a month early, the baby, and I got a call saying I gotta go to the hospital and I was like, 'Fucking hell'.. . and she was there, having these pains and that stuff. And then he [the doctor] goes, 'Right, get your gear on.' I was like, 'Oh, what gear?"'

The hospital clothes! Were you shocked at how quickly everything was happening? "Yeah, I was pretty shocked. I was shitting it, actually. But it was good. I was there at the birth.

What did you feel like when you looked at Lennon for the first time? "I don't know. I can't explain it. Just buzzing. And I were a bit worried and all, make sure he was all right. But no, it was great.

How is your mum enjoying her first grandchild? She doesn't like me anymore. She don't come down to visit me. And I'll tell you how it's changed me, how it has changed, yeah, is that before he was born, I was the most important person in my world. You know, I did what I wanted. I'm not the most important person in my world any more. He is.

You have to put yourself second. Yeah, yeah, oh definitely. And it's like with me mam, I mean, she goes, 'Oh, I'm coming down next week,' and, I'm, 'Well, you know, I'm not gonna be here,'and she's going, 'I don't want to see you. I want to see him.'

Have you written "Little Lennon" yet? I've wrote one about him. 'Born On A Different Cloud' it's called, but I've not finished it, though.

Are we going to hear it one day? Yeah. When it's finished, yeah. It's good, man. On the piano and that.

Do you write on the piano? I have been doing. But see, I can't really play it that well. I can do little bits, you know what I mean? I can get a tune out of it, but then I can't get a change. I leave that up to Noel. I get the gist of it and then I get the change in my head and I know how it's meant to go. It's just the way I write. I'll need help with it."

Noel polishes it up for you. Yeah. Like with 'Little James'. With writing and that, I'm just doing it for myself at the moment. My main role is singing, and if I get a little song, every now and again, that's fine. And if Noel likes it, that's fine. And if he don't like it, I'm big enough to go, 'Right, cool. it's shit.'

Getting back to Lennon, there's been a lot of interest in his name. Did you see Paul McCartney on The Big Breakfast saying that he hopes his son has a boy and names him Lennon so he can be called Lennon McCartney? I heard about it. Yeah, I thought it was amusing....but the funny thing about that is, I just got a phone call off Yoko Ono last night. She rang me.

What did she say? She wants to meet me next week. She's staying in Claridges. What happened, she sent us this card about a week after he was born, like a little postcard with pictures - John Lennon used to draw pictures of him, her and Sean - and it's got, 'From the Lennon family'. It's got, 'To Lennon, welcome to the world, love, love, Iove, Yoko 99.' So I was fucking freaked, I was going 'Fucking hell', went and showed it to everyone ...

Then a big box of baby clothes come from New York, 'cos she's doing online baby gear for kids and that. I was thinking, 'Fuckin' hell, I'm gonna have to write a thank you letter.' "So now I'm thinking, How the fuck ... [scratches head and mimes trying to write a letter]

'Dear Yoko' . . . And I went, 'Fuck it, I can't write that!' I didn't just want to write, like, 'Thank you for the clothes,' I wanted to write a bit more without sounding like a fucking knobhead. So then I left it at that, and she's in London now and so we were rehearsing yesterday and I got this call saying,'She wants to meet you.'

So I got back last night and I rang her, the number was there, I got straight through. I said, 'Is that Yoko?' She said, 'Yeah, who's that?' Oh, it's Liam.' She goes 'I'm in London for a bit.' I said, 'Anyway, thanks for all the gear you sent.'

"She goes, 'Oh, the reason why I'm ringing is I'm getting more footage on John, like, Lennon when they were doing Imagine [for Gimme Some Truth, the new film about the making of the album]. She's in Abbey Road next week, but I'm away in America. She goes, 'I wanted you to come and see it.' I said 'oh, I'm not going to be here.' She goes, 'oh, I'll send it to you anyway for Christmas and that.' She goes, 'But I'm back soon and if you want to come over for tea and biscuits and that, and bring the baby, I'd love it.

Have you changed your opinion of her? "I never had an opinion on her. I'm not one of them who goes,'Oh, she split The Beatles.'They split themselves up, you know what I mean? She seemed dead nice on the phone and, like, listen, I love him, I've got respect for him, and I'm sure he was a cunt, he had his moments, but if he was into her, then they're both the same person, I reckon. I'm not one of them who goes, 'That fucking Yoko.' I've got no problems.

Was it a challenging experience, working outside Oasis for the first time, with Steve Cradock on the "Carnation" single? Well, I was a bit scared, you know what I mean? I didn't do it to be a single or anything like that. It was in Sweden or somewhere, I think, with Ocean Colour Scene when they supported us, and we were pissed and we was going on about the fucking Jam things. The Jam are all right, you know what I mean, but I was too young for them...

I never thought of you as a massive Jam fan. No, I'm not. But I like some of the tracks, and I like Weller now. So we were speakin' about The Jam and mods and all this nonsense, so I went, 'oh, "Carnation" is the fucking best tune,' and Steve goes, 'Oh, that's my favourite tune. I'd love to do a cover of it one day.'

"So anyway, he went away and done this version and sent me a tape. He goes, 'I'm in London next week - do you want to sing on it?' I was going, 'Oh fuck that,' so I kept ignoring his phone calls, and Patsy's going, 'Ring him back.' I'm going,'No, 'cos I can't sing with anyone else, you know, I've never done it before.

I ended up, I got my fucking shit together and I went down there to Primal Scream's studio and we done it in the afternoon. And that was it. And no one ever mentioned putting out [the Jam tribute album] Fire And Skill. I don't even think that was thought of.

So the track existed before the idea of the album. Yeah. Yeah. And that was, like, done last year [1998].

How was it different to working with Oasis? Just length in trousers, I reckon. Ours are 34 legs, theirs are, like, fucking up there (points to calf), 'cos they're mods and they like to show their ankles.

Once it was released as a single, did you want a Number One? No. No. I was gonna do Top Of The Pops and all that, 'cos we were getting back into the Oasis thing and I thought, 'Yeah, fucking, why not?' And then I thought, 'Well, it's a good song, I'm well happy with it, it's better than anything else around at the moment.' If it had gone in at number one, yeah, great, but I get Number Ones with Oasis. Once you've had a Number One, you've had a Number One, you know. I'd have been disappointed if it hadn't got in the Top 10, only 'cos it was a good song.

Noel got involved in your TV appearances. Was he there to give you moral support or was he there as a mate of Paul Weller and Steve Cradock? He was gagging for it. No, he was just there for the piss up, you know what I mean? It's a gathering, of the lads, leave the wives at home, have a good drink...

A lads' night out, really That's what it was.

When Bonehead left Oasis, the papers said he'd had a row with Noel over Bonehead's drinking in France, where you were recording the album. Is there any truth in that? Not really, no. The thing was, right, no one turned round to anyone specifically and said,'Look, there's no drinking' except for Noel with me. We were rehearsing the album a week before we went to France, and every fucking two minutes I was in the pub, and every time we'd have a break, I'd go 'fuck that,' go to the pub. And everyone was sitting about, fuckin' listening to it back, and I'd just go to the pub. And then I'd come back, do a bit more rehearsing, and I'd be a bit pissed up, and then a little argument would fucking start and that, so basically, the call was for me. Noel goes, 'Look, if you're going to be fucking pissed in France, don't bother coming.'

And I was like,'You fuck . . .' and then I had a row with him on the phone, and I put the phone down and I went away and Patsy calmed me down. She went, 'Look, he's fucking right. And I'm glad someone's finally fucking told you. 'Cos it seems like no one really tells me, like, 'Fucking stop drinking,' when I'm being a cunt and that, and she goes, 'You're a knobhead when you drink.'

So I listened to her and went, 'Right, fuck it!' So I said to Marcus [Russell, band manager], 'Ring him back and tell him I'll be fucking sweet. I'll be sober.' So I went there sober. There was no argument with Bonehead at all. There was no arguments with anyone. Bonehead was drinking, Whitey was drinking, everyone drinks."

Do you think the papers were looking for a sensational reason for Bonehead's departures? Yeah, well, there was this big thing in the papers saying that Noel's banned booze and all this nonsense, he's banned drugs and 'They're going back to their fucking roots'. I mean, roots, what, in a £50 million fucking mansion, you know what I mean? That's going back to our roots!

And the thing was, when we were recording the album, everybody was fine, everyone was happy, he [Bonehead] is moving house in Manchester, he's done his bits dead quick, he goes,'Right, I'm going home to move house. I'll be back.' Now, if there was something going on behind the scenes, I don't know. I can only say what I saw. Everyone was happy, everyone was into the music, everyone was listening to it back, buzzin', having a drink, going "Wey, we're fucking top,' and 'Wey, that's great.' And then we get a phone call saying he's done his bits and he's leaving the band.

What was your reaction to that? "At first I was thinking, 'Right, let it be for a bit, it'll be sweet.' You know, these things happen all the time in Oasis. Everyone gets the needle and goes home for a week and then they calm down, and then they miss it, and they go, 'Right...'

So we went, 'Ah, fuck it, he's got the fuckin' hump about something,' or maybe he just doesn't want to sort it. We can't tell unless we're speaking to him, 'cos he spoke to Marcus. So we carried on with our bits, we finished the album and came home. Then we carried on trying to get in touch with him and he was still going, 'Oh, no, I've had enough of touring. I want to be with my kids.'"

Have you spoken to him yourself? I've not spoken to him, no. He's tried to call me and that but, you know, I'm busy. Now, that's the thing. He lives in Manchester and we're not that close as the band used to be. We're all married, you know what I mean, and we meet up every now and again. They don't go to parties. I don't really go to parties, Noel's the party one, and we'd only meet up when we were rehearsing or doing a video or something, and now that that's not happening... if they're not into a band with me, then I've not got nothing in common with them.

So you feel hurt by Bonehead leaving? Yeah. I feel hurt because if he's got a problem, which I don't think he had, with the band, then he should've been able to speak to us about it. 'Cos we'd been in it so long I thought we were that fucking close. When we were together, the band, we talked about things. If I had a problem with the band, I'd say it. If Noel did, and if Whitey did, they did say it. And I just feel a bit gutted that they [Bonehead and Guigsy] mustn't have felt like we were mates, or something, that they couldn't come out and go, 'Oh, I got a problem'.

Wasn't Bonehead your main drinking partner on tour? Yeah. And Whitey as well. And Noel. Noel's a fucking drinker and all. No, everyone was a drinker. The only one that really didn't drink was Guigs. We were all mates, you know what I mean? And I'm gutted that they couldn't speak about it then.

Did Guigsy also cut out without telling you himself? Yeah, he cut out without telling us, yeah.

What did you think about that? Well, I thought 'cos they were two mates together from previous, that that was it.

He went out in solidarity? Well, maybe, yeah. I think it was a bit of a like, 'I'll leave and then we'll both get back in,' or something. Do you know what I mean? It was like maybe a little bit of a fucking 'We'll see how far we can push them.' But it was like, if you leave the fucking band, you leave the band, that's the end of it. If you don't want to be in it, then you don't want to be in it. We've got no time to be fucking cuddling each other and going fucking 'Oh, what's up, what's up?', do you know what I mean? We've done all that. We're here to fucking start a band, we're here to go on tour. Fucking, we're not social workers. I'm not your mam. I'm not your fucking dad. We do the fucking album, and it sounds hard, but you're there to work, do the fucking album, go on fucking tour. That's what it's always has been. If you've got a fucking problem, go and see your psychiatrist or something. Cos I've gotta go in there and do my bit to support my kids.

So it's like, if they don't want to he in the band that's it. Fucking see you later. VVe'll go and get someone who is into being in the band.

How did [Bonehead's replacement] Gem come into the picture? Gem was someone that we knew. He'd supported us and that. We thought, 'Right, Heavy Stereo have been dropped off Creation' ... We didn't want to go and fucking poach him. We just went,'Look, what's Heavy Stereo up to?' And he's going,'Oh, we're writing songs,' and he's going, 'Why?' And we're going 'Well, we need a guitarist. Do you fancy being the guitarist?' And he went, Yeah, yeah.' We didn't go, 'Leave your fucking band.' It was only meant for the December dates, but he said, 'Yeah, I'm fucking in."

What made him a better person for Oasis than any of the other people that were considered? We didn't consider anyone else. People were talking about Johnny Marr and fucking Aziz out of fucking Stone Roses. I don't fucking think so. You know what I mean - if you can't get it together in The Stone Roses, what fucking chance have you of getting it together in fucking Oasis? And [former The Verve guitarist] Nick McCabe, it's the same for him. If he can't get it together in his own fucking band, he's got no chance of fucking getting it together in ours.

It was widely believed that David Potts from Monaco was joining on bass. Right, that was Peter Hook talking. The bass player, we were a bit struggling. We tried, like, four bass players out, no one knows their names, and that didn'tt get out. And then we tried Pottsy, he came down to rehearse with us, and Peter Hook went blabbing to the fucking papers.

He said it on the radio. Yeah, and it was all over Manchester that Pottsy's got the job. Now, I feel sorry for him, 'cos he's gotta go back up to Manchester and go 'I'm not in.'

But that's not our problem, you know, what I mean?

Andy Bell joining on bass came as a surprise. So what it was, I didn't rehearse with Pottsy 'cos I had the flu and that, but they were rehearsing and I was at home and Pottsy was good, but he just ... in the nicest possible way, he just didn't look the part. And it's essential, I think. No matter how daft it sounds, you've gotta look fucking right, you know what I mean.

And then with Andy Bell, I got home and we got a phone call saying Andy Bell had joined Gay Dad and I was having none of that. I went, 'Fuck that.' So we got his phone number and rang him up and said, 'Look, do you fancy doing it?' And he went,'Yeah.'

You don't like Gay Dad, then. I've heard of their name. That's terrible. That'll do me.

Didn't you slag him off, Andy Bell, when he was in Hurricane #1? Yeah. Yeah, 'cos he deserved it. I slagged him off, battered his singer, and that was it, yeah.

You battered Alex Lowe? Yeah, well, he deserved it. He was slagging us off. We were on the same label and he was giving it all this fucking nonsense. You don't shit on your own doorstep. I'd never slag any band off on Creation, whether I liked them or not. It's something that I wouldn't do, you know. And he's fuckin' definitely not doing it to me, the dick, without getting a slap. And then we had a bit of a scuffle and that was it. And Andy's cool as fuck, you know what I mean? He's a rock'n'roller.

Did it feel odd playing for the first time with two people who weren't Bonehead and Guigsy? I didn't think it did feel any different. No, it didn't feel odd, man. No, because I'm not like that. I don't dwell on the past. That part of Oasis is over. It's gone and it's dead and dusted, through them, not me. I walked in there that day, walked into the rehearsing rooms, two guys there, Gem was playing there. 'Right, where's my mic? Set me up. Let's fucking go.' And that was it. I'm not going to go, 'Oooh [mimes crying], having visions. They made the choice to leave the band and that's the fucking end of it. And I'm here to fucking get it on. They're there to get it on. Let's get it on. And that's the way it is and that's the way it fucking should be, man.

Someone said that, with the new members, it was like a Creation supergroup. A Creation supergroup? What, Heavy Stereo and fucking Hurricane? What's super about that? Nothing super about fucking Hurricane #1, except for Andy Bell, who's now in Oasis. And there was nothing really super about Heavy Stereo, and I mean that in the nicest possible way. It's an Oasis supergroup.

What is the balance of power now in Oasis? Noel's in charge, full stop.

He's still The Chief. Yeah, man. He writes the songs and he does the business side of things. He's the one who sits up and makes all the decisions. You know, I don't want to know the business side of it or the fucking cover artwork and all that, I just want to sing. Alan wants to play drums. Gem wants to play his things, you know, and Andy wants to play his bass. And I feel sorry sometimes for Noel, but he's the one who wants to do that, so let him do it. But I'm The Chief in my position, which is in front of the microphone. And he's in charge of his bit, you know, but he writes the songs. That's it.

Looking back at the Nineties, Oasis are one of the major events of the whole decade, not just musically but as a cultural phenomenon. Yeah. I'd like to think so.

Has the novelty worn off? The last tour [1997/98] got a bit boring, you know what I mean? I personally wanted to come off tour. I couldn't be bothered with it, 'cos it was doing me head in. I was singing fucking rubbish towards the end and I was getting in too much fucking trouble outside the band, and that was not what it was about.

You built up a reputation as the wildest man in rock. Did you ever feel as though you were? No. No.

You did fly the flag quite well. Well, I probably was at the time. It depends, you know ... I just liked getting on the piss and fucking having a laugh and that. I weren't the wildest man in rock, it's just that every fucker else in a band was BORING.

I'd agree with that. Brett Anderson, you know. Boring as fuck. Who else? They're all boring. Damon Albarn, boring as fuck. We called him Dermot Oblong.

Throughout the whole period of Definitely Maybe and (What's the Story) Morning Glory?, it was like Oasis could do no wrong. Do you think you had it really easy during that period? I think we worked, man. It didn't come to us on a plate. We were gigging everywhere, weren't we? We were getting up to things that no other band was. And it's because everyone else around at the time was fucking shit and boring. We're a great band and we're an exciting band and there's people in the band that are exciting.

Do you think you can ever get that kind of acclaim back, where people think you walk on water? Er ... yeah. Yeah, but it won't be on that scale, you know, because we were new then. When we'd been around a bit, we were in everyone's faces, we were in the paper every fucking day. And people get bored with that. And that's sad, people knowing exactly fucking what move you're making and what you're doing. So you'll never get that sense of mysteriousness about the band back again, but all you can do is go on and make better records and that's all I'm about now, and that's all the band is about now. And then we were about fucking getting off our tits, losing it, and all the music side of it was getting fucking missed, you know. It was all about fucking what we're wearing, who we're fucking, shagging, who we're rucking with. And that was right for a young band, I think.

Now that you've eased off on all the revelling and quaffing do you see anybody out there who can carry on from where you left off? No. No, just me. I'll still be doing it every now and then. Mmm. I'll still be there, but not as much. [As if on cue, Liam embarked on his famous "Lost Weekend" just two days later, after learning that Alan McGee was ditching Creation.]

What do you think about the fans that actually don't want you to be sane and sober? Well, fuck them.

Because there are people who expect that from you, aren't there? Well fuck them. I've got a kid now. l don't want to die. l don't want to be an alcoholic. 'Cos they'll be getting on my case when they come to see me, I'm 50 fucking stone, I've got a big fucking beard and I'm taking loads of fucking slimming tablets and all that. They'll be moaning then, won't they? And I've got no teeth and look like Shane MacGowan. So fuck them, I'll be fucking rocking mate. If they want to come and see me, they're going to come and see a rock'n'roll show, and if they don't like that, they can fuck right off and go and see Robbie Williams or something.

Throughout '96 and '97, you had the paparazzi living in your hedge. Was there any parts of that constant attention that you secretly liked, or was it a pain in the arse the whole time? It was a pain in the arse, man.

Did you ever take them out a cup of tea? I like the attention, when it's to do with the music and the band. When I'm going gigging and there's loads of fans around, you know, I love that. When everyone's going, 'Yeah!', you know, fucking there, at the gigs and all that. When I'm walking down the street, it's nice when people 'All right?' You know, I like that and I'd be a liar not to say it.

But when there's fucking paparazzi outside your house, and there's people writing on your fucking wall outside your house, and there's people slagging your missus off outside your house, then I don't like it. I fucking hate it. But the rest of the being in a rock'n'roll band, all that adulation, I love it. Oh yeah. And I want more of it.

Do you ever worry about losing it all or does that not even enter into your thinking? No. Well, the only way I'd lose it is if I booze, you know what I mean?

So it's that big a threat to you? Yeah, that's the biggest threat, because I'd get pissed and I'd have an argument with Noel, and I'd stick by my guns and he'd stick by his guns. I was wrong, he'd be right and that'd be it. Now, if I've got an argument where I'm sober with Noel, I can win it. If I've got an argument with Noel when I'm pissed, then he can go,'You're fucking pissed, you're a cunt, you're singing shit,' and when I wake up sober in the morning, I go, 'Oh, he's right.' You can always get blamed for things when you're drunk, even when you're doing something right. When things do go wrong and you're pissed, people can get on your case. When you're sober and things go wrong, they can't get on your case. That's the only way I could lose it, if I get into the bottle. Other than that, I'm rocking.

Do you feel Iike the biggest British rock star of the nineties, which you were? I still am. But I don't walk down the road doing it, no. I walk down the road going, 'Fucking hell, I hope I can get on with my business.'

You allowed photographers to take pictures of Lennon, when you were walking around a park with him. Yeah, well, I just didn't want to get fucking stressed out with my kid. I didn't want to be getting into big fucking verbal arguments with these photographers when I've got a two-month-old baby. I wanted to keep my cool. So I just said, 'Look, stay over there. If you're gonna fucking mither me, mither me from over there, but if you come near me, then . . .' They could've come near me and took pictures and nought I could have done about it.

Did you read in the papers a little while back that there was a poll of the most miserable people in Britain... Yeah.

... and you and Noel were both in it. How close to the truth could that be? You know, they must have fuck all else to do with their lives. It's pretty miserable, innit, for someone to sit down and go, 'Right then, today my quest is finding out who's the most miserable person in the world. 'What kind of fucking kick he gets out of life, writing about the most miserable people in the world - he's the miserable one. What, 'cos I don't walk down the road smiling and I don't smile for cameras? What, 'cos I tell people to fuck off 'cos they've got a camera pointing in my baby's face, and they're getting on my wife's case and they're getting on my case? And they're writing bullshit stories about me? Yeah, then I'm the most miserable person. If you ask anyone else, I'm fucking up for it all the time. Funny as fuck. I'm a jolly boy, man. A jolly lad.

Have you read Paolo Hewitt's book, Forever The People? No, I don't read his books.

It was all about his experiences on the Be Here Now tour. What did he fucking know? He was in bed all the fucking time, the lightweight bastard.

I was amazed that Paolo went on the road with Oasis, because he was never a drinker. He still wasn't. He's a lightweight.. So all the shit he writes about, saying what we was up to, he wouldn't fucking know 'cos he was in bed at fucking 10 o'clock every night, the LIGHTWEIGHT. I don't approve of it, to tell you the truth. But someone's gotta do it, you know.

Well, anyway, he suggested that Oasis were shocked and bewildered when Be Here Now started getting a kicking. No. That's bullshit. Noel, bee's knees as a songwriter, he might have been shocked. I think it's a fucking great album. I think it was overproduced, there was a lot of cocaine going on, loads of drinkin'. We were getting followed to the studio by the paparazzi, five cars from my house to the studio, waiting outside, five cars back. It was like fucking 'Band On The Run.'

To me, that's no way to go to work. You know what I mean? If you're stressed out when you go to work, it's gonna show in your work. So I was stressed out, and that was happening to everyone. That's the only problem I've got with Be Here Now. It was better than any other fucker's album around. There was a lot of cocaine doing on, there was a lot of fucking hangers-on in the studios, and it shows. But other than that, it was a great album.

You've defended the album before but Noel has said that, looking back, he doesn't think it's that great. Yeah, but he would do, because he's like that, Noel. He's one of them that go, 'oh, forget it,' you know. It's a fucking great album. If it weren't a great album, why did he fucking record it? And he pisses me off when he says that. He's saying it just to agree with the fucking people who slag him off. But fuck that. It was a great album and he knows it was great, 'cos I seen him when he was writing it. He was loving it.

But when you look back at it, it was a bit crazy. The producer [Owen Morris] was just as mad as us, you know what I mean, he was drinking as much as us. It was just we weren't concentrating on the job that we were doing. But the songs are fucking great. I don't particularly think my singing was good 'cos I was off it and that, but other than that, it was a fucking great album. You know, it's not a fucking shit album. It's the Phantom Menace of albums. Listen, it was the album we were out to do and that was the way it was done. I'm not saying it's the best, but it's definitely not the worst. Maybe we didn't go any further, maybe we didn't take a step forward, but we didn't take a step back.

And going down to the sales, it sold six million copies. People say it's poor sales . . . six million people fucking liked it, so what are you talking about?

You've been away for a while and during that time, bands like the Manics, Stereophonics and Catatonia have been on the rise. How do you rate them as competition? I don't rate them as competition. No.

How about Travis, who have a massive album? Travis are a beautiful band, I love Travis, right, and they've got great songs. I don't think of them as competition. They're definitely not, although they're a great band. And like Catatonia, for a fucking start, they ain't no fucking competition, right. Fuck them. I'm arsed about her either, right.

The Manic Street Preachers are a good band. They're not in competition with me. Stereophonics, I like his voice. The rest's a bit Bryan Adams. They're not competition, but I hope they do well.

Let's talk about Standing On The Shoulder Of Giants. When you were recording it, did you feel any pressure to deliver, given the slagging dealt out to Be Here Now? No, honest to God, no. 'Cos when I heard the songs.....I'm totally, 100 percent behind Noel's songwriting ability. No question at all. The pressure could be on Noel, 'cos he's the guy who writes the songs, and people go, 'Oh, they're shit.' I'd be disappointed, you know what I mean, but I'm sure he'll be more disappointed, 'cos he's opening up to the people with his songs. I'll be disappointed if people don't like 'Little James' right, 'cos it's my first attempt and I'd like it if people like it, so I'll be a bit disappointed if they don't, but it won't fucking kill me.

Do you think that this album will restore the band's critical reputation? I don't know and I don't really give a fuck, to tell you the truth, because at the end of the day, it's like with Be Here Now. All right, yeah, it might have got a bit of a slagging, but they loved it at first and then they fucking hated it, and I'm not a psy-fucking-chiatrist, I can't get into the mind of a fucking person who reviews. That's their problem, not mine. And this album, I'm into it, I'm happy with it, I'm happy with it, and whether they like it or not, it's still going to get toured.

Did it turn out the way that you personally envisaged? Yeah. Yeah.

I remember, I think it was on the Steve Lamacq show ages ago, you were saying you wanted it to be a bit psychedelic, and you said something like you wanted to splash a bit of paint over the music. Is this what you meant? Yeah. You know, you've gotta have a good song before you go fucking weird and all that. 'I Am The Walrus' was a great song on acoustic guitar. You can strip it down and it's there. I just wanted it to be not so fucking rock'n'roll. I wanted to put a bit of colour into it, and I think we've done it. Whether people like it or not, I don't know, but we're writing for us. You can't fucking write for the critics or the fans.

Do you think you're going to take some stick over 'Little James' being so sentimental - "Wild Man Of Rock In Soppy Sod Shock" Or do you think people will listen to it in the spirit in which you wrote it? Hopefully. People who've got any soul, people who know who they are on a day-to-day basis, will actually realise that there is a day when you go home and put your feet up and cuddle your kids. There is a day when you watch fucking TV. Now, if anyone slags it off, they've either got no heart or they fucking don't know what the meaning of life is. They just fucking go out and fucking do-do-do-do the same thing every day. So fuck them, you know what I mean.

What does James think of it? He thinks it's hilarious.

And what does Patsy think? She thinks it's lovely. What it's about, it's about me and him, right, and his mum. And it's about 'It won't be long before everyone has gone,' it's like explaining to a little kid, you know, you've got all them fucking slags outside the house, the press and that...

Are they still there? No, they're not there no more, not at the moment, but it's like, I've got to go outside the house with him, cuddling him, through all these people, so when he got a little bit older, he's going. 'Who are all them people?' It's weird, you know. I just had to tell him it won't be long before all them people have gone.

It seems to be inspired by a combination of Lennon's 'Beautiful Boy' and The Beatles 'Hey Jude' Yeah, a bit of both. More Beautiful Boy. Music's music you know. And you can't win with these people. You know, they're going, 'You're the wild man of rock, you're fucking this, you don't fucking care,' and when you do show a bit of fucking caring, then they fucking call you a poof.

I suppose that's being Liam Gallagher, isn't it? Well, it's not my problem. It's theirs.

Are you happy that the song was built up into a big production ballad at the end? Yeah, yeah. Well I just wanted it to be acoustic. Have you heard Lennon's demos? And they're just, like, dead crackly, like, and it's just on a guitar and that's the way I'd like to write music. But if he's gonna go on an Oasis album, it's gotta be a bit big, hasn't it? So then I played it to him [Noel] and he just went away with the band and he goes, 'What do you think of this?' And I went 'It's fucking top.'

It's the same thing with Noel's ballad, 'Sunday Morning Call'. It's got the big treatment, too hasn't it? Yeah.

That's the feel of the album, really. There's quite a grandeur about it. Yeah. I like it.

Are Oasis becoming more at home in the studio? It sounds like you really enjoyed using the studio this time. Yeah well, we are. We're getting right into it now.

Can you go too far with that, or do you think you've found the right balance? No, I think we're ready now, you know, to spend a lot of time in the studio and really get right into it, whereas we didn't do that before 'cos we were just rocking - 'Do, doo, doo, let's get out and let's play.' And I'm not saying we're spending two years in the studio making 'cos we don't do that. I'm on about, like, really getting to fucking grips with what's around in the studio.

The lyrics of Little James are quite joyous and that's different to a lot of Noel's lyrics on this album. They're dark in some ways, and a bit depressive. Oh aye, yeah.

Is that the way Noel was feeling when he wrote this album? Probably, yeah.

Do you ever talk to him about his lyrics? He doesn't explain them does he? He just won't explain.

Do you have to interpret them in you own way, then, when you're singing? Yeah, I've got my own things, yeah. I don't like to talk about other people's songs, 'cos they're not mine, but when I sing 'em, I sing them about what I'm thinking about.

Do you think that Noel is alright with fame, 'cos quite a lot of the lyrics on this album seem to be a bit disillusioned? With fame? If he didn't want to do it, I don't think he'd do it. He's a clever man, he knows exactly what he wants.

He's having a go at certain people on this album. I don't think he's having a go at friends. It's not necessarily, like ... what do you mean, like fame as in what?

Well, the trappings of it. The hangers-on. It's just goes to show, doesn't it, 'You try and sit around my table but you never bring a chair,' It's about the liggers. That's what I get from it.

You don't put up with them. With what?

With the hangers-on. No, I don't. My house is a home house. It's not a party house. I think they're all dicks anyway, to tell you the truth. All celebrities are all fucking knobheads. And I'm sure they think the same thing about me, but I'm not the one wanking it about with everyone else. They're the ones that are all wanking around each other, saying how great each other is, and slagging each other off from behind their backs. I tell them to their face when I see them - they're all knobs.

There isn't anything on the album that's really optimistic like 'Live Forever' or a huge celebration like 'Champagne Supernova'. You can't do that all the time, can you? Life's not great all the time, is it?

Moving on to 'Go Let It Out' - it's quite a laid back song for a comeback single, isn't it? Yeah.

Did you want to come back subtly rather than with a big bang? I don't know, you know. I wanted to come back with 'Fuckin' In the Bushes', to tell you the truth.

That's a mad song. I have no idea what it's about. Neither do I. I don't think there is an idea what it's about.

Tell me about the voices on the samples. It's 'we put this festival on you bastards, we waited for one year for you pigs, you wanna break our walls down, well you go to hell.' And it's from the festival on the Isle of Wight, when all the hippies were trying to break the walls down. And there's a bit in it going, 'Kids are running around naked, fucking in the bushes.' And then there's a bit at the end, where an old lady's going, 'Music, love, life, beautiful, I'm all for it.'

It's a very dramatic opening to the album. I fucking love it, man. I think that should've been the single. But it wasn't gonna get anywhere, it's not gonna get any airplay is it? It's just fucking rocking, man. You ain't gonna get a better rocker that that. Now that, right, to me, is the ultimate fucking rock'n'roll song. I know for a fact, me personally, I'll die happy being involved with such a song like that. It's just fucking mental. It's rocking, man. I love it.

The video for 'Go Let It Out' is a bit Magical Mystery Tour. No, it's not as good as that. The video's fucking shit. I hate videos. It's all right. We're no good at videos, you know what I mean? We're not there to make ground breaking videos, but we're trying our best. It's all right, it's nothing fucking amazing. I think the weirdos on the video should've looked at bit weirder, but it's all right...

But Go Let It Out, to me is like, fucking jesters and little clowns that caper and sawdust rings and...

The Big Top Yeah, I love it. I know, I know, it's a slow one, and whether it was the one to come back with, I don't know. But it's all part and parcel of the album.

Do you think that Oasis fans will be suprised by the album? I know I was. Oh right. What, in a good way?

I expected Oasis to get back to some straightforward rock songs, really. After the criticisms of Be Here Now, I thought you might react by simplifying everything. Well everyone wants Definitely Maybe, do you know what I mean?

I didn't say I wanted Definitely Maybe. No, no, I know that, but, like, with you saying about the fans and that, how will they react. I don't know, but every fan I speak to, they go, 'Oh, I liked your first album.' Yeah, so did I, but you can't fucking stand still. And I don't want to.

Is that really what they expect? Yeah, but it's like I said before, we're not writing for the fans. I hope they like what we're doing but if they don't, then they don't. They can do and fucking listen to Stereophonics or whatever. You know, it's not my problem. I like the album and.... you know, there'll be someone who'll like it. But it's just what we want to do. I think it's fucking great and I love it. I love the sound of it.

There aren't too many songs here that jump straight out at you. It takes a lot of listening. Yeah, Well I think that's a good thing, actually. Music's about listening to, innit?

Do you think that could work against you? Oh, probably will.

Are you ready for the slings and arrows this time? There might not be any. But I'm ready for anything.

You're pretty bulletproof, aren't you? The thing is, if they slag it, they slag it, you get on and do the next one. That's what it's about. It's not gonna knock me dead. We've wrote half the next album anyway. We've got fucking loads of songs. We're always writing, man. Soon as we finish touring next, we're back in there, you know, and write the next one.

With this one, certain Oasis trademarks are missing, like the irresistible melodies of Some Might Say or the big singalong anthems of D'You Know What I Mean. It's a lot darker and denser in many ways, isn't it? Yeah, yeah.

Do you like that? I do, yeah, I just think that it's time for that. You can't keep writing anthems all the fucking time. That's up for someone else to be doing now. As a young band, you know, we were brand new, everything was fucking great, you're famous, you've got all this money, you're fuckin out at all these parties - that's when your anthems are coming out. We're seeing the shitty side of it now.

Do you think this is a more grown-up album than anything you've done before? Yeah, a well grown up album. When you see the shit we've seen... That's for fucking new bands to be writing all these 'Life's fucking great, it's fucking mega, wahey...' They don't know what's coming. That's for them to be rejoicing. They don't know that if they get to where we were, that it can get a bit shitty. So that's for them to be writing the anthems. We're where we are now, and life's a bit shit sometimes 'cos of what's going on, and that's coming out in the music. And all you can write is how you feel. And that's how Noel's obviously feeling. See, if people give this really good reviews and all that and treat us really nice, then we'll write a nice anthem album next time.

This isn't a commercial album, full of obvious singles. You've gotta listen to it more.

Was this a concern for you? No, Not at all. Otherwise we'd be writing hit singles. I think it's a new stage in our life. If it's not gonna get on the radio, I'm arsed, you know. Maybe that's what the problem is with music today. They're always looking for that big, fucking hook. We're going back to fucking proper rock'n'roll music. I mean, it's a proper fucking rock'n'roll album.

Do you think it will go to Number One? Yeah, Definitely. Don't know if it'll stay there, though. Course it'll go to fucking Number One. It's Oasis, man.

Is it a perverse album to put out at this stage? Some of the songs are quite long and there are long instrumental passages, which are things that people criticised about Be Here Now. Do you mean it's the same?

No. But there are certain things that people thought you shouldn't do and you're doing them again. Yeah, well, fuck them. So you're saying what? Who's saying we shouldn't do that? The press?

Including the press. Right, the press, right, because the press are saying. 'Don't do that', I'm not writing fucking music for some knobhead who couldn't tie his fucking shoelaces, let alone play a guitar or write a fucking song. Do you know what I mean? That's the fucking bottom line of it. If they don't like it, then that's fucking fine. If they slag it off, that's fine. We're the musicians, they're the fucking knobheads who write about it.

If Oasis' previous albums were fuelled by booze and white lines, would you say that this is more of a spliff album? Yeah, I think so, yeah. Definitely: I'd say so. Not that we've been spliffing it. It's a listening album man. It's not fucking chaos.

Is it a satisfying album for you as a singer? Yeah, oh yeah.

Even though there's a lot of instrumental work in it? Yeah, I think I'm singing pretty well.

Do you approve of Noel singing? Yeah.

You don't mind him having a couple of songs on every album? They're his fucking songs, aren't they?

Are you not dying to sing them? No, I'm not really dying to sing thingy; 'Where Did It All Go Wrong', to tell you the truth.

You would sound good on "Sunday Morning Call". Wel, I tried singing it, but I think that's Noel's favourite, his little beauty. I think it means a lot to him.

It's the most melodic song on the album. Yeah, well, I sang it and it's like I was singing it a bit too hard. I can't sing soft.

You can still carry a ballad. Yeah, I know, but, anyway. I think that was his thing - 'I want that, I want to do that,' so I done it and even if it was probably good, he probably went. 'Oh, no, no, I don't like that, you're singing like a bumble bee. I'll do it.' And then he done his version of it and I went, 'Ah, fuck, I'm not gonna get in an argument about it.'

The future of British rock depends on this album. Does it?

Probably. No, you can't put that weight on us, baby.

Is it too much responsibility for you? The future of British rock revolves on fucking bands, mate.

People are waiting for this album, Liam. Well, I'm sorry, darling, that's to do with fucking dickhead writers who slag people off before they've given them a chance, do you know what I mean? It don't depend on us, mate. This album is for us and for the fans who like it. British rock's for fucking people who've joined bands and are writing shit music. That's what British rock depends on.

But there's a lot of people holding their breath for this album, and that's a compliment. Well that's good, yeah, but that, fucking, that can go against you man. And I'm not having none of that.

Everything can go against you in this business, though. Well whatever you want. The future of British rock will not go against that album. If people don't like that album, that'll go against us.

Do you think Oasis are still the biggest and best? I think we are, yeah. Well I think we're the biggest... We've been away for two years - it's different, do you know what I mean? We were the biggest when we left off, and I'm gonna carry on where we left off.

Can you do that? I wouldn't be doing it if I didn't think the glory can go on. You know I wouldn't be here today if I didn't think we can get bigger and better. And whether people come in around us, you know, and it gets other bands rocking again, then that's fine, but I'm not arsed about it. I couldn't give a flying fuck about the future of British rock. Listen, all I'm bothered about is Oasis. I've done my bit for the fucking futures of British rock.

oasis - the mad ferret www.oa515.com

[quicktosimp]

An Early Visit

AN: Back again, this time with the direct sequel to A Long Night! I have two more fics in the work, one featuring Rafayel, and the other is a Zayne fic, I have not started on part 3 of this series yet, so comment which fic you'd like to see first! Warnings: Medical Settings, Medical Drug Use, I am not a doctor, so there's gonna be some medical inaccuracies, depression, self-esteem issues.

After Xavier uncovers the severity of your injuries, he forces you to go to see Dr. Zayne, who is now well aware that you skipped your post-battle medical and were directly avoiding him.

Whatever pain I was in last night is absolutely nothing compared to now… The bruises I received yesterday were now a darker purple, swollen, and angry-looking. Peeling my eyes open was the first regret of the day, as the throbbing pain shot through my body. The second mistake was trying to move. I became as stiff as a rod overnight and moving was not pleasant. Xavier had to help me get dressed and walk me to the taxi, which was embarrassing enough. Then, he actually walked me to Dr. Zayne’s office, not to the entrance of the hospital, not to a chair in the waiting room, just straight into Dr. Zayne’s personal office, where he sat me on the couch. Xavier even changed me into a hospital gown! He gave me a quick peck on the lips before he left to go to work, where I should also be… 

The leather couch under me was unpleasantly warm and stuck to my skin; I wanted to shift to a cooler spot, but the throbbing along the entire left side of my body kept me still. So I relaxed back, waiting for Dr. Zayne to come in. 

Weird… I never noticed that the ceiling of Zayne’s office was spotted.

One…

Two…

Three…

Four…

…

29…

…

43…

65…

104… 7? Damnit, I lost count…

One…

“If you find my office so interesting, then you should have come in last night.”

I jumped out of my skin hearing his soft but cold voice; I winced at the pain from moving suddenly, “Dr. Zayne… how long have you been there?” I asked sheepishly.

He uncrosses his arms as he walks closer to me, his white lab coat flowing behind him, “Long enough for Xavier to text me all the injuries he noted last night, all his concerns, and what he also may think is wrong,” Dr. Zayne deadpanned, as he pulled up a chair in front of me.

I cast my gaze down, not wanting to see his face, his disappointment or anger, “Oh…” I muttered.

I could feel Dr. Zayne sigh more than I could hear it; he’s always so good at covering up his emotions. 

I bit my lip as I hung my head, “Look... I promised I was gonna come in today, I just-”

“Was going to skip coming to the hospital and receiving medical treatment altogether so you could get to a meeting at work,” He paused to remove the stethoscope from around his neck, “And then maybe you would have graced me with your presence.”

Heat bloomed across my face, knowing that he was right, but I didn’t want him to think that. Dr. Zayne placed the stethoscope's diaphragm on my chest, the coldness of the metal seeping through the thin gown I was wearing. The touch was barely there, but small shocks of pain radiated through my chest; apparently, the bruise spread a lot more than I thought it did…

Zayne swiftly moved it to another spot on my chest, “I’m sorry, just bear with me for a moment, then I’ll be done putting pressure on it,” He stated softly as he continued his job. 

“Alright,” I continued breathing steadily, trying to keep the grimace off my face. I don't want Zayne to be any more upset than he already is. 

Dr. Zayne steadily moved the stethoscope along the five points along my chest, “I’m going to listen to your lungs; deep breaths for me,” He ordered softly as he placed the still-cold metal on my back.

Thankfully, he starts with the right side, shifting around to hear my lungs, “Deep breath,” I follow Dr. Zayne’s instructions without question, slowly breathing in. The pressure built in my ribs until it peaked into pain, where I couldn’t inhale anymore.

“Can you breathe in anymore?” Zayne’s voice was soft, tinged with worry.

I sharply released my breath, “I can try again,” I muttered breathlessly.

I steadily started to inhale again, letting my lungs fill. Each second brings burning pain, stretching my bruised skin by the second. Tears pricked at my eyes as I fought to inhale; thankfully, Zayne was behind me so he could see. I couldn’t let him think that it was worse than it really was, so I kept going until what I believe is my normal amount until I steadily released it. My lungs burn with the need to expel it, and my ribs throb in protest, but I continue on, slowly releasing my breath. 

“Good,” With Zayne’s mutter of approval, I could have wiggled in glee until he placed the stethoscope on a different area, “Now again.”

Oh fuck , I bit my lip as despair filled me, the realization that I’ll have to repeat this multiple times. Grimacing, I gingerly comply, wanting to get this over and done with. Somehow, it was worse; each slow build caused the throbbing to increase, my ribs protesting the added pressure. It felt like an eternity had gone by as I forced myself to slowly release my breath, but the clock showed that it had only been 10 seconds. 

“Good, now bear with me for a second,” Concerned words fill my ears as the stethoscope was placed gently over my left side. 

Dr. Zayne placed it there so lightly I shouldn’t have been able to feel it, but the resulting shooting pain knocked the breath out of me; he removed the stethoscope swiftly. 

Zayne moves to my front, gently lifting my chin to look at him, “Are you okay? What is your pain level?” His eyes flicker over my face, lingering on my wet eyes and red nose. 

“I’m-” I pause, trying to catch my breath,” “I’m fine.”

The furrow of Zayne’s brow tells me all I need to know, “This is not the time to be stubborn. Now, what is your pain level? Or can you try again?”

I meet his gaze, refusing to back down, “I can do it… I’m fine,” I state again, needing to prove to him I’m fine.

Zayne closed his eyes as he sighed and reluctantly let go of my face. He moved back around me and gently placed the stethoscope into the previous spot, just as gently as before. I was prepared for the pain this time and was able to act normal despite how much I wanted to flinch away. 

“Deep breath,” Zayne’s voice was tinged with regret. 

Stealing myself, I grit my teeth and start to breathe in… slowly… very slowly… whoever said “third times the charm” is an evil person and extremely incorrect. Despite it just being light pressure, it made my job of breathing so much more difficult; the throbbing was more of a shooting pain along my entire side, and the small stretch from breathing is more than I can handle. 

Just as the pain was going to become too much, Dr. Zayne removed the stethoscope, “Both wheezing and crackling in your left lung. I’m going to schedule a chest CT and X-ray,” He stated, putting the stethoscope around his neck, “I’m going to untie your gown now. Are you wearing a bra?” He asked softly, knowing I was uncomfortable, even though he’s seen me naked many times at home. 

I shake my head, “No, Xavier helped me take it off earlier,” I whisper softly as his fingers pull on the hospital gown strings. 

“If what Xavier told me is true, then that’s good. You’ll probably want to avoid wearing a bra for the next couple of weeks. To keep pressure off your shoulders and ribs.” Zayne dutifully commented as the cool hospital air brushed against my back.

I sighed regretfully, “It’s really not that bad; Xavier is just…” I stopped myself, knowing that Xavier wouldn’t be overdramatic about this, and Zayne knows it. 

“Just what exactly? Just looking out for his stubborn lover who believes that human limitations don’t apply to her?” He deadpanned, continuing to undo the ties.

I could feel myself flush at Zayne’s words as I shook my head, disagreeing. I don’t think I’m above human limitations; this just isn’t something that would stop anyone; that’s why I should just keep working and not bother Zayne at work. 

“No? This is something that the four of us have talked about… repeatedly… And we have all come to the same conclusion. You seem to be the only one who thinks otherwise.” I could feel his raised eyebrow piercing the back of my head. 

“Wait, you’ve all talked about what?” I questioned, attempting to turn my head to look at Zayne; however, the movement caused the throbbing to increase, so I gave up and glared at the floor, “When did you all start meeting up?” I pouted at the floor; usually, they’re all too busy… not to mention they can barely stand being in the same room together most days.

“Right around the time you caught the flu and didn't tell anyone. Xavier found you passed out on the floor and brought you here. That’s when we decided to start having regular meetings,” His breath ruffled my hair, “I finished untying the gown; I’m going to pull it down so it rests on your lap. I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable, but I was told that your bruise goes onto your left breast by a large margin.” 

“It’s fine, Zayne; you’ve seen me naked plenty of times,” I scoffed lightly.

Zayne’s cool fingers brush my skin as he grabs the edges of the gown, “Even so, at home, I always ask you before I take your clothes off, and right now, I am your doctor just as I am your lover.” 

My chest warmed at his concern; even though I was irritated at the situation, I couldn't help but feel cherished in his care. The feeling quickly faded as it felt like someone dumped a bucket of ice water over me. The gown was slowly pulled down my left arm, revealing my chest down to my abdomen, and was pulled off my thigh, letting the fabric pool between my legs. And the rest hung off my right arm, leaving me some decency.

Worry gnawed inside me as Zayne stayed silent; he should have said something by now, even if it was just a hum from concentrating. The silence became stifling, making the room colder than it actually was. 

Briefly, I open my mouth, wanting to end the silence, only for Zayne’s pained voice to speak first, “Why didn’t you call me?”

 I sucked in a breath; hearing Zayne’s voice waver made the pain from my bruising pale in comparison. My stoic boyfriend, who rarely lets his emotions show through… Yet I could hear it in his voice…

“I-I,” I tried to speak, but each time I opened my mouth, it felt like my throat was closing in on me, “I-I just-”

“At the very least, you should have come here last night to receive treatment. But why? Why didn’t you contact a single one of us?” Zayne’s words were bolder, desperate.

I looked down, watching as Zayne’s shoes came into view, “I couldn’t! I knew you had surgeries into the night. Rafayel had a gallery, and Sylus sleeps during the day and then had several meetings last night!” I explained weakly. 

Zayne kneeled in front of me; this way, I couldn’t ignore him, “Let’s say that, for some reason, I was unable to escape my duties. You know that Sylus would simply kill anyone who stood in his way of protecting you, and Rafayel is always looking for an excuse to get out of public events.” Zayne tilted my head to face his, “You didn’t give an excuse for Xavier, a fellow hunter, your coworker, who you’re supposed to call for backup as your senior hunter.” His voice took on a scolding tone.

I shook my head the best I could in his gentle grasp, “I had it covered… This was nothing more than my stupidity… I promise Zayne, it’s really not that bad..” I rattled off, trying to convince him.

Hazel eyes narrowed scrutinizingly, “Really? I wasn’t aware that you went to med school,” I flushed at his jab, “because, from what I see, it seems to be a third-degree contusion, possibly a muscle contusion as well,”

I scoff lightly, “A contusion is just the fancy way of saying bruise. You taught me that.”

 Zayne matched my tone, “A contusion is a wound caused to the surface of the skin and underneath breaking the blood vessels, caused by blunt force trauma. It seems my student wasn’t paying much attention.” 

The heat from my face spread; I went into a medical debate with a doctor and lost, “Close enough…” I mumbled.

Zayne sighed as he let go of my face, backing off, “I’m going to put in the order for the X-ray,  CT, and a compartment pressure measurement test just in case, and then we’ll see about the rest of your treatment.”

Carefully, Zayne pulled up the gown and tied it back in place before walking to his desk; he grabbed the file he needed for me and the blanket I gave him for our two-year anniversary. He wrapped the soft, fuzzy cloth over me, helping ward off the cold before he turned and walked towards the door.  

My chest felt tight as I stared at the back of his lab coat, “Zayne!” it burst from my chest. 

He slowly turned towards me, his eyes widened just a fraction, “Yes?”

I swallowed the lump in my throat, “I really didn’t think of it. I-I just wanted to go home and sleep. I really didn’t think it was that bad…” I explained earnestly. 

Zayne's shoulders sagged as he rubbed the bridge of his nose, “I know…” with that, he left the room.

~~~~~~

The wait grew longer, and I quickly grew bored; mixed with the warm weight of the blanket and the lack of sleep I got, I promptly fell into a doze. Lulled by the occasional sounds of nurses chatting, CNAs rushing to their next patient, and the janitor humming, I leaned back and let my mind empty. 

The over-the-counter painkillers that Xavier gave me had already worn off, and Zayne’s testing irritated my side, so no matter how much I wanted to sleep, the pain made it impossible. I mean, I could go back to counting the dots on the ceiling…

“That will be unnecessary.”

I jolted forward, my heart pounding as I searched for the voice. I couldn’t stop the scream as a burning sensation erupted through my side. I cut off my voice at the end, not wanting to cause a scene.

“Look at me, what’s wrong? What are you feeling?” Zayne’s voice barely made it through the haze of pain.

I forcefully opened my eyes; I hadn’t even realized I had closed them. Zayne’s face was inches from mine, his hazel eyes scanning me for other injuries.

The pain escalated to a mix of throbbing and stabbing pains, yet it all burned. I opened my mouth, trying to speak, but all that came out was barely audible choked-off screams. 

Zayne left my side, storming over to a locked cabinet. I squeezed my eyes shut, whimpering, as another stab of pain shot up through my neck. It stayed there, a single strain of never-ending pain.

“I’m here,” Zayne’s voice sounded far away even though I felt the warmth of his hands on my arm, “quick pinch… gone,” I made out through the waves of pain.

There was nothing but the pain, overwhelming and all-consuming, before a flush of warmth flooded my veins; it replaced the pain, leaving me feeling like I was wrapped in a warm blanket, and my body sagged, leaning onto Zayne’s chest. I took in a deep breath, letting my lungs fill with the air I was unable to take in before. I sniffed again, liking the smell, a mix of disinfectant and a subtle amount of spearmint from Zayne's body wash; he can’t wear cologne in the hospital, my brain helpfully supplied, as I rubbed my face on his chest.

“Is that better?” Zayne asked softly; a slight clicking noise sounded near my ear.

‘Never leave an open needle; always make sure it’s capped.’ Zayne’s voice helpfully reminded me.

Zayne’s hands gently pushed me back so I was facing him; his hazel eyes looked deep into my own… they’re so pretty, lots of greens and golds and browns; I could look in them all day and be happy. I felt a smile start to come over my face, happy to just be looking at Zayne… what was it that he asked me again? Is it important? 

His eyebrows furrow in a worried smile, “How are you feeling now?” He asked again, but I wasn’t really paying attention. I was more focused on how his stethoscope peaked out of his pocket.

I look back up at Zayne when he clears his throat again, and I smile again, my eyes closing for some reason, “Hi,” I whispered sweetly. 

Zayne’s chuckle sounded in my ears. I couldn’t help but be confused as to why he was chuckling, but I couldn’t help but smile even more, hearing Zayne so happy. I open my eyes to see him playing around with his pager; I giggle as I try to take it from him, but Zayne is too fast.

“Sleep deprivation and morphine have an odd effect on you…” I heard him mumble as I looked up at Zayne as I tried to reach for his pager again. Only for Zayne to place it out of my reach

“What do you think about seeing Dr. Grayson?” Zayne gently asked me, his mouth fighting a smile.

I shake my head, trying to figure out what this man was thinking, “We can go see him... Why, though?” 

“Because he’s going to be coming up here to bring you to a new room until I can bring you in for your CT,” He explained softly as he leaned me back into the couch.

I slouched over onto my non-injured side. “But I want to stay here.” My voice took a higher tone, and I did not even notice that I was whining as I bit back a yawn.

I wiggled around a bit, enjoying moving without pain, even if I was still a little stiff.

Zayne’s hands were back on me, “That’s enough of that. I know you’re feeling better, but that doesn’t mean you’re no longer injured. You’re just experiencing the morphine.”

I huffed a little bit before curling into Zayne’s touch, “But I just wanna get comfy… Let me sleep, Dr. Zayne; you said that it’s good for injured patients to sleep,” I grabbed his hand and brought it to my face, squishing it between me and the couch. Which was honestly way more comfortable than I thought it would be.

“You can sleep once Dr. Grayson gets you into your new room,” His thumb gently rubs over my cheekbone.

I squeeze my eyes shut; maybe if I fall asleep first, Dr. Zayne will leave me here. 

I could feel his arm shaking irritably, so I cracked my eyes open, only to see him chuckling at me again. I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to fall asleep even harder, to spite him for laughing at me, as the fuzzy feeling of sleep started to bloom.

Three firm knocks rang through the room before a lighthearted voice spoke, “Dr. Zayne, I’m here to steal your patient.”

“It seems she’s feigning sleep,” Zayne responded professionally, removing his hand from my face. 

I grunted in irritation; why couldn’t they just leave me be? I’m finally comfortable.

“Well, you’re needed under supervision and in a bed where you can’t fall out of,” Grayson’s voice helpfully supplied.

Well, shit, am I talking out loud now?

“Yes, you are, and that is another reason for you to be moved into a safer bed.” Zayne calmly explained as he gently lifted me up, only to be placed on a hard, cold chair.

I reluctantly open my eyes, glaring at Dr. Zayne for putting me in a damn wheelchair, “I’m perfectly fine, Dr. Zayne,” I argued.

“I have to disagree,” Grayson chimed in. I tried to turn my head to glare at the traitor, “I can see the bruising through your hospital gown, and Dr. Zayne has already logged your dose of morphine, so now it’s time for you to rest in an appropriate room, with a high possibility of an IV to help with fluids and other meds you may need,” He explained as he started to wheel me away.

I looked over my shoulder to give Dr. Zayne one last glare before the door to his office closed, where I could see him typing away on his phone. 

~~~~~~

‘She is not to be left alone for the following two weeks minimum. I will not discharge her unless someone is here to pick her up.’

‘I’ll pick her up

I’ve got the next couple weeks off.’

Delivered.

~~~~~~

I grumbled away as I lay on my now-designated hospital bed, trying not to itch at the IV sticking out of my forearm. I’ve been here for hours now, gone through all the stupid tests, was literally stabbed repeatedly, and now I’m just waiting to hear from Dr. Zayne or Dr. Grayson so I can get out of this joint. I twitched again as I scratched underneath my chin; apparently, morphine can cause you to become itchy, and it definitely kicked in. Dr. Zayne and Dr. Grayson would scold me anytime they spotted me scratching while doing their rounds. I’m seriously about 2 seconds away from gnawing my hand off.

“You know I should scold you for slacking off, Miss Bodyguard,” A teasing voice called from the doorway.

I slowly moved my head to face him; I’m not stupid. I know the morphine is wearing off. And low and behold, there was a fishy in my room.

“Not one call or even a single text,” Rafayel bemoaned from where he leaned against the doorsill. He swiped a hand through his purple locks. “And then the audacity to not even call for backup?" He shook his head. You’ve left me completely defenseless.”

I looked at Rafayel, frowning a bit with my eyes closed. “What are you talking about, Rafayel?” I asked slowly, my brain lagging a bit. 

I peeled my eyes open a bit so I could watch him saunter over to my bedside, relaxing in the little room left on my bed. His weight caused the bed to dip. My right side leaning into Rafayel’s warm chest. He’s always so warm and cozy I couldn’t help but yawn as my eyes closed again.

Under my check, I could feel Rafayel exhaling, “Tell me, Cutie, you really think LightShow wouldn’t run and tell us about your little stint yesterday?” 

Long fingers started to tangle in my hair, massaging at my scalp; I couldn’t help but sigh in relief as I slowly lose the battle with sleep.

Rafayel’s hair ticked my face as he rested his head against mine, his voice a gentle whisper, “I’ll let you off the hook for now… but only because I get to take care of you.”

I hummed in response, not really caring about the words right now; I just like hearing his voice.

“That’s good because she’s going to be on bed rest for at least 2 weeks,” My ear twitches at Zayns’s voice, his soothing voice refreshing to hear.

“That’s fine; I don’t have any exhibitions for the next month. I can stay with her the entire time,” Rafayel rumbled under my cheek, “I’ll bring her back to my place for a bit; that way, she’ll be less than inclined to sneak away for work.”

I scoffed as I lightly smacked his chest, more irritated that he was speaking about me like I was not in the room. I could hear them chuckle at me, only increasing my ire.

“I’ll send you with her prescriptions and the care instructions. I trust you’ll adhere to them.” In that last sentence, I could feel Dr. Zayne’s eyes burning at me, but I pretended I couldn’t see it.

“Don’t you worry about it; I’ll make sure she behaves,” Rafayel’s voice was teasing, but there was a hard edge to it, one that solidified a promise.

There was some rustling of papers, “Good. Then I’ll give her one more dose of morphine, and you’ll be all set to take her home.”

I blink open my eyes, fighting against the weight, “Home now?” I asked from my comfortable position against my fishy.

There was some rustling and gentle pulling on my IV before another bout of warmth flooded my veins.

Rafayel’s hand gently pushed my back, helping me sit up, “Yep, it’s gonna be you, me, and the sea.”

I squinted my eyes at him as I wobbled a bit, attempting (failing) to adjust to sitting up. 

‘The sea?’

Zayne cleared his throat from the other side of the room, “I’ll have a wheelchair brought up,” His hand was covering his mouth, but I could see his eyes sparkling with mirth.

I glared at him, which caused my eyes to shut completely, which caused both of them to start quietly laughing.

“Well fuck you too then,” I huffed, trying to flop back onto the bed again, but Rafayel won’t allow it.

“Nope, come on now, time to get going. The days not gonna wait for us,” Rafayel proclaimed as he scooped me up and deposited me in the wheelchair.

My heart launched itself into my throat as I tried to latch onto Rafayel, only to miss in my flailing, the morphine and my injured side messing up my coordination and instead smack Rafayel’s face.

I covered my mouth as I gasped, unable to believe I hit him, but then I realized he picked me up without warning… and I didn’t even hit him that hard… I crossed my non-injured arm as I looked at him disappointedly, “Well, that’s what you get for being an idiot,” I muttered groggily as I started to scratch my arm, the stupid IV still there to bother me.

Rafayel covered his cheek as he threw his head back, “The assault! Such slander! Not a care towards your own lover!” 

I look to the side, worried I might have actually hurt him.

Zayne rolled his eyes, “She barely even tapped you,” he drawled tiredly while walking over to me.

I breathed a sigh of relief but also realized what Zayne said made sense. The morphine can only do so much for pain relief, and if I hit Rafayel, I’d be in a world of hurt.

“Let me get this out of you,” Zayne whispered.

I looked away, not wanting to see it removed, but that didn’t stop me from feeling the slight burn and tugging as it was slowly removed from my arm.

“Says you,” Rafayel pouted, crossing his arms, “She could murder someone, and you’d lie to the cops for her.”

Dr. Zayne carefully applied tape over the cotton he used to remove the IV. “So would you,” he responded, standing up.

“Well, that’s beside the point,” He huffed, “Are you a doctor? Supposed to record these things?” 

Zayne walked behind me and started pushing my wheelchair, “If I saw anything, then I would.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle, hearing Rafayel sputter behind me. Unable to stop my yawn, I covered my mouth; it felt like I was about to detach my jaw; speaking of my jaw, that slight tingle was back as I tried to scratch my chin. Yet Dr. Zayne grabbed my hand before I could touch it.

“No scratching, it’s just the morphine,” He scolded softly, returning my hand to my lap.

I pouted at him the best I could from my position, “I know it’s the morphine; it  doesn’t stop it from itching, though.” I retorted as another yawn came forth.

“Take a nap once you get into the car; you need your rest to recover,” He offered softly.

“Who said I got a car?” Rafayel huffed as he rejoined us.

“Well, unless you plan on carrying her to Whitesand Bay, then you have a car waiting,” Zayne replied blandly.

“Wel,l what if I-“ I soon drowned out their voices, letting them wash over me as I enjoyed the sensation of being pushed in a wheelchair.

The day was long gone by the time I got outside; the sky was dark, and the city was alight, but there was a breeze, and the fresh air made it all worth it.

My peaceful ride soon ended with a touch to my non-injured shoulder, “Can you get in the car, or do you need help?” Hazel eyes bore into mine as I cracked my eyes open.

I shifted slightly, preparing myself to get up, “I got it,” I mumbled as I took on unsteady feet. 

I wobbled a bit as my knees shook underneath my weight; Zayne grabbed my right arm to steady me. I shot him a sleepy smile as I wobbled into the car, gently getting in. The plush leather was slightly uncomfortable under my skin, which was the lovely moment I realized that I was still in my hospital gown.

“But what about-“

Zayne shook his head, cutting me off, “The hospital won’t miss one gown, and I do not recommend you attempt your normal clothing,” Zayne reached over and buckled me in, “I recommend soft clothing that are easy to remove, maybe those new pink button up pajamas you got?” He offered softly.

I nodded my head, unable to think of anything to say, but those pink pajamas do sound davine, “Alright, that sounds good.”

Zayne gently reached his hand down, running his fingers through my hair, “Listen to Rafayel, and rest well,” he murmured before closing the car door.

The car was dark and warm, and the gentle hum from the engine was soothing. I rested my head against the tinted window; Rafayel and Zayne were talking outside. I could hear their voices muffled by the door, but I couldn’t care about what they were saying as I blinked my heavy eyelids. Each time, it took longer to open my eyes again.

Zayne handed Rafayel a large white packet of papers and a small white bag to go with it. Zayne turned to me and gave me a small wave, then walked away towards the hospital door. I sighed softly as I sunk into the leather seat. 

The door to my right opened, and Rafayel slid inside, “Let’s get you home, yeah?” He stated softly, gently pulling me to him.

I hummed contently; Whitesand Bay is quite far… I think I can finally get a decent nap in…

I tucked my head under Rafayel’s chin as he gently started to play with my hair. Finally peace…

~~~~~~~~

The next thing I knew, I was tucked under soft sheets, and long, gentle fingers worked through my hair. I blearily open my eyes, not quite able to focus on what I’m looking at, just noticing fluffy purple hair.

I turn my head, and it’s still dark out; I frown in confusion but lean my head into his touch. 

“Think you can sit up for me? I got you a bite to eat, then you can take your medicine,” Rafayel’s voice roused me gently.

With some help, I slowly moved so I was resting against the headboard, a pile of pillows behind me to stay comfortable and upright. A bed tray was placed over my lap, and on the tray was a small bowl of rice and seasoned vegetables with a cup of pineapple juice, a small cup of water, and two small pills. I looked up at Rafayel, puzzled about the medications.

Rafayel nudged the chopsticks into my hand, “The small white one is naproxen for your swelling, and the off-white one is tramadol for your pain levels,” he explained nonchalantly.

My face twitched as I held back a sneer, preferring to ignore the off-white pill. Instead, I focused on eating my food; it was light in the stomach yet entirely flavorful, and it was nice to finally get some good food. While still slow, I ate feverishly; the pit in my stomach didn’t even realize there was finally dissipating. And the pressure in my head started to fade as I ate and drank. Next to me, Rafayel softly talked about some things he had been working on, such as a new paint medium he’d been using. I hummed along as I ate.

I set my chopsticks down as I finished my cup of juice. The stiffness on my left side was worse, but the pain hadn’t yet broken through. I could breathe a sigh of relief as I relaxed further into the pillows behind me. 

“Not ah, take your medicine before sleeping again,” Rafayel scowled teasingly, placing the two pills in my hand.

Glaring down at my hand, I placed the tramadol back on the tray and plopped the naproxen in my mouth, swishing it down with a drink of water, “There I’m done,” I huffed, trying to lean back.

“What do you think you're doing?” Rafayel's voice was low and hard.

I attempt to shift to my right side to sleep, “I’m going to sleep now,” I brushed off, getting comfortable.

“Is this all a joke to you?” My eyes snapped open at his harsh words; my skin prickled at the coldness in his voice.

His eyes seemingly glowed in the dim room while the sounds of waves crashing flowed into the room.

“Xavier brought you to the hospital because of your injuries and pain. Zayne kept you there all day, 10 hours to be exact, and now you are in my care because all of us, and yes, that includes Sylus, cannot trust you to behave yourself and let your body heal,” Rafayel grabbed the offending pill in the tray, “This right here proved we were right,” he ended with a snarl.

Guilt gnawed at my stomach, but I can’t back down; it’s really not that bad… 

Rafayel’s eyes bore into me as I hung my head, unable to meet his gaze any longer.

Rafayel grabbed my chin, gentler than I thought he’d be, and forced me to look him in the eye, “No, you don’t get to look away. You do not get to ignore the consequences of your actions,” he stated firmly, as I was forced to look in his eyes, the pink seemingly taking over any blue.

“When we called each other, you know what we thought would happen if you went on your own? We all knew you wouldn’t take your medications, and we also knew you wouldn’t rest. You push yourself and end up tearing your already injured muscles, but you ignore the pain. And when you’re in pain, you forget to eat, and then what? What happens is between your injuries and now lack of eating, you’d collapse. So tell me, how long do you think it’ll be before one of us notices something’s wrong? Xavier has to leave for a 3-week mission, Dr. Zayne has a teaching seminar along with his work at the hospital, and Sylus doesn’t always get service in the N109 Zone. So unless I looked for you, how long do you think you’d lay there collapsed on the floor, unable to get up due to the pain before one of us found you? Tell me! What then?!” Rafayel’s voice became softer as he pulled me to his chest, his arms wrapping around me as tight as he dared to, “What then?” 

I rested my head on his shoulder, using my good arm to wrap around him; I didn’t know what to say… he was right, fuck, he was right, but I just can’t stop… I have to be better… stronger… it doesn’t matter what they say; it doesn’t change the truth; it just changes the past and just how useless I was… 

How useless I am…

“What if you hit your head? What if you were stuck there for weeks? What if you-“ his voice cracked at the end, unable to complete the sentence, to speak his greatest fear.

Tears pricked at my eyes, hearing my normally playful Lemurain so heartbroken; I want to tell him that I’m just getting stronger, that he doesn’t have to worry so much, but right now, easing his worry won’t come from words, and that’s what’s most important.

“I’ll take them,” I muttered into his shoulder, barely audible, trying to stop myself from cringing at the idea of taking tramadol.

Rafayel squeezed me gently, “Thank you,” he all but whispered, using only one arm to grab the pill and water for me.

I ignored the water simply swallowing the pill dry, ignoring Rafayel’s grimace at my actions. I curl back into Rafayel, merely wanting to forget today.

He awkwardly moves the dinner tray and settles us down into the bed, his lips brushing the top of my head, then resting his head on top of my own.

His soothing scent made me nuzzle into the sliver of skin escaping his shirt. And the sound of the waves was the same white noise I use at home. Honestly, it was nice right now.

I sigh as I place a small kiss on Rafayel’s chest, “I’ll stay and behave the next two weeks… I promise,” I whispered into his skin.

All I got was a small squeeze in return, but that was alright; I knew what he meant. 

And for now, all was right.

Taglist: @anemonelovesfiction, @eywaite, @neteyamsoare, @xylianasblog, @loakstahni

[03-ooz]

its time to take the uchiha clan cat conspiracy one step further

the cellular makeup of the sharingan is different than that of a normal human eye and shares some similarities with cat eyes. feild of vision and distance perception are human standard, but color/light perception improves. so, heres how i see this working

because of their kekkei genkai uchiha are genetically predisposed to have more photoreceptors in the eye compared to other narutoverse humans (particularly rods, we'll circle back to that)

the reaction of the chakra on the optical nerve stimulates the typically dormant rods and cones within the eye and changes the way the sharingan percives light

so the extra photoreceptors in the eye are activated by chakra meaning they are only active when the sharingan is active and plain eyesight is unaffected

sharingan users have an enhanced sensitivity to light which is partially why awakening the eye can be a painful process

this enhanced sensitivity nerfs the sharingan a little bit the eye is still incredibly op during night/lowlight combat but it can be incredibly difficult to navigate use during the day because of the strain the enhanced perception cause on the eye although with proper training you can overcome some of the discomfort

the extra rods in the eye enhance night vision for sharingan users

the extra cones are there cause i think its funny that your faves favorite color is beyond your compression

the red hue in the sharingan is like a chakra activated tapetum lucidum which contributes to the motion sensing feature of the sharingan as well as enhanced night vision (most importantly consider reflecive sharingan make brain go brrrrr)

nekobaa loves the uchiha cause they're big spenders but also cause of the cool cat eyes

kakashi keeps the eye covered to conserve energy but also cause constant exposure to light = constant migraine and the darkness helps mitigate the symptoms

all of this to say

uchiha can see human bioluminescence pass it on

this has been sciencey headcanons with a highschool dropout. tune into the next post to read about how zetsus photosynthesize and obito too maybe!?!!? (i did really enjoy my freshman biology class but that was 8 stoned years ago so bear with me here i sure hope the science side of tumblr never ever sees this)

[luna-loveboop]

Merry Christmas!!! <3333

The vet basked in the light of the stars, keeping watch over the heroes nestled in their bedrolls. He fidgeted with the many rings on his fingers, listing each name in his head because he didn’t want to have lost one in their most recent battle. Snow covered the ground around them, and though he appreciated the sight, it didn’t help his joints. He heard the crunch of snow and jumped, until he saw it was just the traveller, standing up and walking over. “Won’t sleep or can’t sleep?” Legend asked.

“Can’t sleep,” Hyrule gave him an unimpressed, tired look as he sat down next to the veteran hero.

“Anything I can do to help?”

The traveller shook his head. “No, but thanks. Genuinely.”

“It’s nothing.”

“Enjoying watch?” 

Legend tried to flex his fingers but winced at the pain that quickly coursed through them. “Sure.”

Hyrule’s hands bathed in a warm glow and the vet chuckled dryly. “Won’t work.”

The traveller wilted a bit and Legend put a hand on his shoulder. “Thank you, though. Hey, what do you say we do something special for the others?”

“Huh?”

“Well,” Legend blushed a little. “Okay, so I was thinking, in my Hyrule we have this tradition where we give each other gifts in the winter and—“

“You do care!”

“Never said I didn’t,” Legend grumbled. “Are you in or not?” 

“Heck yeah I’m in. What do you have in mind?”

Legend pulled out his bag. “The captain gave me back the fire rod, but I have another one so he can probably keep it. Sky likes woodcarving so I can buy some more tools for him. I’ll get Ravio to make another one of his stupid scarfs for the sailor so he doesn’t have to borrow the captain’s. The smithy loves forging as I’m sure you’ve seen, so if I can find him some tools for that, or maybe I can get him a scarf too. Hmmm…but what colour would that scarf be? I swear, the colour he likes changes every hour of the day.”

Hyrule snorted quietly. Legend was counting the people he was mentioning on his fingers. “The old man I…honestly have no clue. My first thought was a mask, but he said he doesn’t use them anymore, right? Ugh. Think he’d appreciate a scarf too? No idea what colour he’d prefer but the rancher would probably know. Speaking of the rancher, I’m getting him a muzzle.”

“What?” Hyrule laughed.

“Not really. Anything that keeps his mouth shut from teasing. Right now though, I think he’d appreciate a mug, wouldn’t you? I could put something snarky on there.” The traveller nudged him with a smile but he just continued, “The champion would like a cookbook. If we can translate it into his Hylian of course. Or something that allows him to commit arson, and as much as I’d like to see that, I don’t want to get lectured. I’m not missing anyone am I?” 

“Only me,” Hyrule sniffled dramatically.

“The whole point is that it’s a surprise. I’m not just going to tell you.”

The traveller yawned and then stiffened, as if he didn’t mean to do that. Legend nudged him. “Looks like someone’s going to fall asleep to my rambling.”

“N-no.”

The vet found a blanket and draped it over his shoulders, with a look. The vet watched his eyes slip closed with a fond smile. 

AAAAHHHHH Thank you Uni!! This is so cute, I love reading it dhcjdbchidjufhdudf thank you

Merry Christmas!! (delayed response)

<333

[cowbok]

We Are Monsters Now.

(Its not everyday that i write something but enjoy this One-Shoot about Catnap and Dogday!)

Theodore was a timid child. Soft spoken, introverted, and quiet most of the times. But that was in the past, three years before he was transformed into this... Monster.

This creature, this... Thing. The adults working around the daycare that were unnaware of the inhumane experiments, they thought he was nothing but some kind of animatronic for the children.

The children thought he was the real Catnap from the TV show.

But he wasn't. He was Theo. He was once a human being, until the day all that changed, when he went asleep, the most deep sleep he ever got... And woke up like this... Monster.

He was kind of lucky, tho... That he didn't undergo all this pain alone. Some of his friends had suffered the same destinies, waking up in the new bodies, as big creatures that were meant to entretain and obey.

.... That's not really lucky.

But he'll be lying if he said he wasn't at least a bit glad he wasn't all alone in this... Elio, and the rest of his friends were now the... "Smiling Critters".

Still, that didn't mean he wasn't angry. Even with the company of his friends. He tend to act out. To try numerous time to escape. To try to hurt the scientists when they came to analize him

To try to have contact with beings he shouldn't have.

And, of course, all that fighting always got him in trouble. Cruel punishments of isolation. Like right now.

One of the scientist had found out that Theo tried to break in the labs in search of his... God. For his insolence, now he was being punished by not having dinner, by being a prisoner in that little cell.

And soon, by the one and only Leith Pierre who seemed... Upset.

- You are such a pain... - He said while standing outside of the cell. Protected from the ire of Theo. Using a gas mask, of course. He wasn't and idiot. - Do you have any idea of what you have done today... It could have been the end of us all - He explained, slowly.

Theo just growled. Even if his voice box was broken, he had nothing to say to that man.

- Gather yourself, 1188. You're no longer a little kid. You should understand now that actions have consecuences. - Pierre exhaled, and snapped his fingers.

Two more men appeared from behind him, using masks as well, and rods between their hands. Blue and yellow sparks escaped from the tip of the rods. They were going to electrocute him... How... funny.

- Maybe after you get a dosage of discipline, you'll start listening to the scientists and be a good Catnap for the children, won't you?

The two men opened the door, pointing the rods at Theo at every moment in case he tried to do something risky. They closed the door behind them and got closer, and closer.

Theo hissed and growled. His tail moving rapidly.

And suddenly, there was a scream. But it wasn't from Theodore.

But from Pierre.

- GET THIS MONSTER AWAY FROM ME-EE!! - Barely could talk as Elio was holding his throat between his orange hands

- YOU DON'T GET TO HURT HIM, YOU DON'T GET TO- - Elio tried. But he couldn't bring himself to actually press hard enough to choke Pierre.

- DOGDAY! STOP IT!! - Said one of the scientists still inside Theo's cell, rushing to get the door open while the second one still pointed at Theo with the rod.

- KILL HIM, KILL HIM!!! - Theo cried out loud. This was it, this was his chance of escaping!

If Elio killed Pierre, then they could use his key to get anywhere in the factory. They could free everybody, they could run away, they could...

Elio still wouldn't press Pierre's thoart hard enough... His hands were trembling, and he seemed stuck in one place, almost like if he was shocked with the heaviness of the situation.

It was too late. The scientist manage to open the cell door and hitted Elio with their rod, sending a wave of electricity throught his body.

His yellowish, dog-like body hit the ground, now unconsious.

The scientist helped Pierre to get up.

- Goodness gracious... You're not only a burden, you also have started to corrupt the other as well? -He said, looking at Theo. - Dogday had never acted out like this before!

Theo wasn't paying to much attention. He just felt his one chance fading away like nothing all because... Because...

- Get Dogday into a cell as well, now! - That was the last thing Pierre said before walking away.

The scientist called for some help to carry Elio's limp body into a cell. Then, decided to leave Theo alone for the rest of the night. Too much chaos now to keep going with the program.

Elio started to wake up. His cell next to Theo's.

- What... Happened? - He said slowly. Talking with the broken voice box was hard. But he wasn't going to let any scientist get close to him to fix it...

- I... I don't know... - Elio answered.

- You.... Didn't... Kill him

- No... I guess i didn't...

-.... - Theo didn't say anything. He just stared at Elio for a few seconds.

-... Oh. Well!! What did you wanted me to do?!?! I saw what they were about to do to you! i-i just acted out of instincs!! I didn't know what to do, alright?!

- You... Should have... Killed him

- Oh, really?! And for what?! What use would that have been?!

- We could... Have ESCAPED!

- WHAT'S THE POINT?!

The prison stayed silent for a long while. Elio had his head down, looking at the dirty floor, while Theo keep looking at him thourgh the bars with those withish, creppy eyes... Trying to understand.

- What.... What do you... Mean?

- Oh please, Theo! You really think we can escape?!?! That there's a chance?! We're not twelve anymore!! - Elio snapped back, standing up, walking as far away from Theodore as he could. - Grow up!

-.... What? - He whispered, and the light left his eyes.

- Alright, just think for a moment... Let's say we escape... What then? Do we go to the police? Us? A big purple cat and a yellow dog?! O-or maybe we first search for some mad scientist that's good of heart and knows how to give us human bodies first? Hmm? Does that seems like a plan?!

- Elio....

- Or perhaps we just survive out of trash for a few days until they send a searching party for us and when they capture us!!.... And they'll capture us... They'll just punish us horribly... - Elio turned to see Theo this time. -

The purple cat was holding the bars, his expression unreadable.

- Theo... Even if we escape... We'll never be truly free... We'll never get into highschool, o-or get a degree, or get to live a normal life... Look at us! We're monsters now... There's nothing for us out there... All we have is this place now

- No... - Theo mumbled, a dark liquid dripping from his eyes.

- The least we can do now is... Protect the other kids so they don't end up like us. - Elio sighed, sitting on the ground. - But, lets face it... We're both 15 now... It's been 3 years trapped inside this bodies... There's no turning back. We will never turn back...

"We are monsters, Theo. Let's face it'

[blorbologist]

For the Spotify prompt: Ashton and either Essek or the Bright Queen with number 42 (the answer to everything)?

42. Kids Again, Artist Vs Poet

[Went a bit of a bittersweet direction with this but ohhh boy]

Ashton Greymoore isn’t an orphan. They aren’t really a ‘normal’ kid either, though. Normal kids don’t -

Wait. Hold up - maybe it’s easier to start with what Ashton is. Because Ashton is: a kid, sixteen as of a few days ago, a huge pain in the ass per his dad and the teachers, and really fucking confused.

They thought they had it all figured out. So what, they didn’t look like their old man - lots of kids didn’t! Didn’t change nothing! I mean, hypothetically he could be an orphan once - but who gives a shit about who those parents were. He has a dad.

Ashton Greymoore doesn’t know why he has the name though. Greymoore. Kids tend to match with their parents. Or at least one of them. When he asked, he just got a cryptic bullshit answer about the name being an heirloom. 

He has a lot of those - heirlooms. A wardrobe full of shit, like an old-ass helmet and a piece of yellow-painted metal. There was some cooler stuff in the dresser, but he might have gotten it all confiscated when he got caught with the immovable rod in class.

Apparently weird ass dreams are something else they inherited. Or were given. Whatever.

Except they’re popping up when he’s sure he’s awake, and when he’s fucking around with his friends, and when he’s playing hookey, and when he hears a storm overhead and when he tugs at vines on a fencepost and when he listens to howling late at night and when he sees a rat and when he’s eating cookies or scones or fish for some fucking reason -

Ashton Greymoore isn’t an orphan. They aren’t - they have a great family, and awesome friends, and all that shit. So why do they feel like they’ve lost everyone?

“Ashton!”

Of course they didn’t hear their fucking dad coming. They measure their breaths. Completely fucking fail to when the knock knock knock sounds right above their head, bounces off all the metal shit in here with them.

“I know you are in there, young man. Would you like to come out, or should I come in?” There’s a pause. “Or would you prefer I left?”

He doesn’t feel like giving an answer. Which is a mistake, because a classic fuck off would have solved his problems - but, shit, being quiet is concerning.

Dad doesn’t even need to touch the wardrobe to open the doors - Ashton doesn’t need to look up as the faint magelight flickers down. Really no point to it: his eyesight is way worse in the dark, just like how his ears are round and his skin isn’t purple.

There’s a flutter of robes as his father floats to the floor. A soft sound as he lets himself land. They’ve never been the hugging sort of father-son duo, but the quiet company is always a big relief.

“Ashton,” Essek says carefully. “I, ah. Am probably due to explain consecution to you.”

Send me a character / pair of characters / AU & a number from 1 to 100 & I'll write a little something inspired by that song!

[t4transsexual]

so as i recently posted ive decided to switch over from getting extended metoidioplasty to rff phalloplasty due to sensitivity reasons (my bottom growth is too sensitive for my liking and meta doesnt change that so im goinf with phallo) but heres a bit about my particular goals:

-i do not want a big dick. i want something that i can comfortably have in my pants all day every day. 3-4 inches would be perfect, 5 inches is acceptable but im shooting for 3-4 for personal comfort. your size preferences may be different, i happen to not be in a position where im having casual sex. i have one sexual partner and when she gets bottom surgery theyre definitely not going to want anything huge up there either lol. if i want it bigger for any reason ill wear a sleeve, but theres no way to shrink it once its on there

-i want to completely get rid of my vagina. its really only caused me trouble. idk if ive talked about it here but my vagina doesnt work well for much of anything, plus i cant comfortably get it checked out for pelvic exams or anything due to trauma/dysphoria/pain so im better off getting rid of it. i know theres a lot of people who want to have both sets of genitals and i can totally see the appeal but i just want the one

-i want my bottom growth inside the dick, "burial" is what its called. ideally id have erotic nerve hookup as well but if it doesnt work no biggie

-scrotoplasty and glansplasty for sure. both of these are very important to me. ill probably get testical implants

-this is uncommon but i want medical tattooing on my penis to give it more dimension. you dont really need to have this done and its fully cosmetic but i definitely want it. ive seen a guy who does amazing work

-i want an internal erection decice and will probably go for the pump over the rod. im aware this needs to be changed out once every 5-10 years but im ok with that. if i ever decide i dont want it anymore i can get it taken out. you can get external erection devices as well if you dont like the idea of having to change it

so overall my ideal goal is a very cis passing penis and i have no reason to believe that i cant achieve this. i notoriously have had a fairly easy time with major surgeries and my top surgery went perfectly so im not worried at all about complications, but if they happen, im sure i can handle them. however nobody really goes into any surgery expecting complications so take that how you will

bottom surgery in general is very customizeable, ironically hrt is really the only part of medical transition where you really CANT choose what happens/what you look like (having said this hrt saved my life and all that). like you can have a bunch of different end results to your surgery and everything i mentioned above is completely at your discretion, you can leave off or change whatever you want

[corvusspecialartist]

Tree Hugger:

Mortarion was full of despair. After his current failure… after he was punished by the Grandfather… It was agony… His body could take much.. even before his transformation.. but the agonies bestowed on him… it was too much. He could take it, what was more… it was the show of the Grandfather's love. He had spared the rod for too long.. for it was his fault… He had tried to blame one of the Grandfather's sons.. but no matter. However, it wasn't until the cheery voice.. purred. "I know about it…. They will be disappointed to see you like this… all deformed and corrupted…" His heart sank, true the grandfather knew almost everything about diseases and plagues.. but he had tried to keep this precious thing secret. It was your soul, one of the truest and closest loves he had ever had. It was little rival… no. It was close to Nurgle's love as any. When he looked at the anchor… his physical pain seemed to fade, while his sorrow seemed to increase. It was one of the few clean things…while his quarters on his personal planet were similar… a stain of the Grandfather always seemed to remain. The Grandfather cackled. "How exactly did you think such a soul managed to get into my possession? It was almost anathema… not blessing the tree… and allowing you to have such pretty trinkets! You thought that you could keep secrets from me? Your beloved grandfather?! Now.. that deserves a fresh punishment…" Mortation could feel his primarch physiology change… his moth wings started to crack and break as the GrandFather's magic flowed through him… He felt the scorching heat as his wings started to fall..He cold feel sharp shooting pain underneath his arms… and immediately his stomach started to hurt. He doubled over and felt the acidic vomit come back up through his mask. He tried to take it off but found it glued to his face in a web of diseased skin. With the bile having no where to go, it started to burrow a hole though his neck.. In order to try and take the mind off of the pain… he tried to call up the rare memory before his ascension… to a new master. In the memory, he saw you… wearing in full hazard attire.. while he could withstand the area you were in… You turned to him holding up a small little tree. He thought of it strange… You purred to him. "This is like an old type of tree that could resist the biome type of Barbaurus…so I created something that could maybe survive this and produce fruit.. maybe it could filter out the gas and produce oxygen." He had scoffed at it at the time, seeing it as a foolish proclamation. Barbaurus had always been full of toxic gas, and the people there had lived short and miserable lives.. harvesting the grasses… and filtering the rare non polluted ground water. Barburiusans were a hearty people… so why change that? Now, as he looked at the tree.. and within his current sceneario.. He had to protect the tree… even when he first encountered and converted to the grandfather's cause… when all of the plants died.. it remained. The tree started to wither then.. as Mortarions agonies increased and then stopped. "Do not fail me again. Now…get out." Mortarion was back. He was within his personal quarters… he ran to the tree as fast as his blighted body would take him. The little tree looked the same..yet on closer inspection… there was a little bit on browning on the leaves.

[sprunkisongville]

It would be really sad if Sky dosen't make it. He'll probably have a LOT of blood lost. And it would be hella painful to pull these rods out of him, and idk maybe he'll feel the pain? It would suck if the only teenager in town die. Oh well, we have Pinki's baby to replace him :P

Omg he won’t die 😭 here, a little healing magic lesson:

Upon revival or healing, old wounds that have already “healed up”, as well as detachment of body parts, can not be fixed. The healing process stretches existing parts of the body to recover it, stretching muscle and skin, it’s not like starfish who can regrow. However, because Sky died this way and, once the pipes are removed, he has “fresh wounds”, he can be healed normally, the only differences being the loss of his eye and maybe a little bit of weirdness in the brain that’s mostly unnoticeable. Long story short- we can’t make Bruddys face come back or bring back Owaynes sanity, and we can’t keep Magnesses head attached to her body despite both still somehow alive (not even she understands… revival, man.), but we can bring people back with scars and very minor changes at most.

[electricopolis-net]

Life in Exile Pt. 3: Stormy Weather

The days turned into weeks, then months. Bob wasn't sure how long he would have to spend out in the relative wilderness of Junk Town, but some time after he arrived, the air began to warm and turn towards summer.

The passing year brought drastic changes the likes of which he'd never seen before. The seasons in Electricopolis were all very samey, with only the feel of the air and the changes of television and coffee shops indicating the passage of time. Out here, the earth grew softer, the air grew warmer, and the grass began to green while flowers sprung up from the earth.

The changing seasons also brought a familiar crackle in the air that made the hair on the back of Bob Sparker's neck stand on end. When he felt it, he raced back to his and Percy's ramshackle house on the beach almost as fast as the rumor that spread through the town: A storm is coming.

He'd been putting away bits of metal and discarded gadgets for just this occasion. He latched them together and wrapped them with wire, a collection of antennae from long-discarded radios and automobiles until he had a long, flexible rod that swayed and twanged in the air.

"What's that for?" Percy asked, but Bob only looked at him, grinned, and raced out into the plains that surrounded Junk Town. In the distance, thunder sounded.

Percy looked after him, and then his face paled. He closed the book he was reading, jumped to his feet and ran out after him.

It was exactly what he had thought. Bob Sparker had grabbed his homemade lightning rod and was waving it back and forth in the fields, cackling. "Come on!" he shouted, his lightning rod going thwipp in the air as he whipped it back and forth. "Is that the best you've got?"

Percy cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled towards him. "Bob!" he called out. "Stop this foolishness and come back inside!"

"I'll be in in a second!" Bob said, still waving the thin, flexible lightning rod in the air. It bounced off a nearby tree. The clouds began to darken. "Just give me a minute!"

Realistically, there wasn't much Percy could do. If he got close to Bob, there was a good chance the lightning could strike him too, and it would do far more damage to him than it would Bob. While he was contemplating this--

CRACK

--a bolt of lightning flashed in the air. There was a thundering BOOM with it, and Percy nearly flew backwards. Bob's laughter paused, his breath catching in his throat--and then he cackled louder than before. "Now that's more like it!" he hollered, jumping to his feet. "Again! Again!"

"You idiot," Percy grumbled. "Didn't you learn your lesson last time?" He cautiously drew closer to the laughing man and reached out a hand to grasp his shoulder. Then he pulled back, hissing in pain. "Ouch!"

"Sorry, boss," Bob laughed, and the familiar high-pitched mania was back in his voice once more. "I'm a real live wire! Didn't you know that? Hee hee hee!"

"You're a menace, is what you are," Percy growled. He took off his coat, turned it around, and used it as insulation while he grabbed the squirming Bob Sparker in both hands. "You're coming with me!"

---

Bob was a nightmare. Percy barely got him across the threshold of their house before he began thrashing and banging his heels against the floor. "Stop that!" Percy snapped. "You're going to bring the house down if you do that!"

"I don't care!" Bob howled. "I wouldn't have to live here if it weren't for you! I hate this place!" he wailed, sparks flying. "I hate everything here! I hope it burns!"

Percy gritted his teeth. "It will burn, if you're not careful," he admonished. "This place is nothing but wood and scrap metal, you idiot!" He reached out and grabbed a coil of rope from off of the floor. "Stay still!"

"No! You're not tying me up! Not like that no-good Dr. Flask!" Bob protested. He smacked Percy's hand away, then heaved him backwards until they were rolling around on the floor. He straddled Percy's hips and grabbed at the older man's shoulders, banging him backwards against the floor. "I won't let you, you hear me?"

Percy could barely think. Out of desperation, he pulled an arm back, cocked his fist and rammed it straight into the side of Bob's face. Bob yelped, falling back, and Percy scrambled to sit up.

Bob was dazed, but he was bristling all over, as if the electricity within him was causing his skin and clothes to shudder. He sat up, then lunged at Percy, who quickly wrestled him around and wrapped his arms around him from the back.

Bob's head was craned backwards, his body stiff and arched, his eyes wild. His teeth were gritted and his jaw was set so tight that Percy was afraid he would bite his own tongue. "Calm down," he insisted, wrapping his arms around Bob tightly. "Calm down!"

I need to get him to discharge, Percy thought. There's no good way to do that...there's nothing to ground him here. Except...

Percy placed his free hand on the ground, then tilted the other and shoved the side of it, the meaty side, into Bob's mouth. The uncontrollable man immediately latched on to it, bringing his teeth down so hard Percy had to fight not to let out a yelp. Immediately he felt the waves of electricity rip through his body, tensing his forearm up. He couldn't have pulled his hand away even if he wanted to. 

It felt relentless, but the entire ordeal likely only lasted for a couple seconds at most.  As Percy's vision blurred, he slowly slumped against Bob, groaning, a horrible buzzing still vibrating in his ears. His hand hurt--it was clearly bleeding, but it also burned, as if it had been held too close to a fire. His muscles slowly relaxed, aching, one by one. It was as if he was feeling all the pain in his body in bits and pieces, too much to process all at once.

Bob sat up against him, panting and heaving. Slowly his tightened jaw dislodged, letting Percy's hand fall, and Bob let out a hiss of pain as he rubbed at his chin. "Percy?" he croaked, his voice hoarse. "Mr. King?"

Percy said nothing. He only sighed, exhausted, his weight pressing down on Bob's back. The other man turned around, extricating himself from Percy's grip and grabbing his shoulders. "Mr. King?" he said again. "What happened?"

Percy would have laughed if he could have. Instead, he closed his eyes.

---

Percy woke up some time later. He expected to see the white walls of a hospital, but instead, to his immeasurable disappointment, what he saw was nothing but a ceiling of wood and tin. 

"Mr. King?" Bob Sparker leaned over him, craning forward. "Are...are you okay?"

Percy lifted his sore and aching hand. "I'm all right," he wheezed. He turned his hand back and forth, realizing it had been awkwardly bandaged with a cloth. "Did you do that?"

Bob nodded. "I know it isn't much. I'm--I'm sorry," he choked out. "I hurt you really bad, didn't I?"

"It's fine. I gave you quite the black eye, myself," he sighed. "I didn't have much of a choice."

"I didn't even notice." Bob gingerly touched the bruise around his eye. "Mr. King...Percy..."

"Yes?"

"Why'd you do that? I mean--let me shock you."

Percy thought. And after a moment, he responded: "It was the only way to make sure you'd be safe."

Bob collapsed on his chest. "You're just like her," he wailed. "Margaret did the same thing!"

Percy paused for a moment as Bob sniffled. Then, he raised a hand and put it on Bob's head, resting against his fine white hair. "Bob," he whispered. "I'm sorry."

"What? What do you mean?"

"I mean...about everything that's happened. The city. You. Me. Margaret..." He let out a long, slow sigh. "I really made a mess of things, didn't I? All because I was too afraid to do the hard thing. The right thing."

"I...I messed up too." Bob sat up, still trying to stifle his sobs. "I'm sorry. I kept saying I didn't want to hurt people anymore, but look what's happened again." His voice betrayed his frustration. "I never wanted to hurt you. Not like this."

A long silence fell between them.

"Bob," Percy said hesitantly. "I know it's not my place to ask this, but..."

"What is it?"

Percy placed his wounded hand on Bob's shoulder. "Let's not fight anymore."

Bob grasped it in his own hands, as gently as he could. "Okay," he whispered, nodding. "I'd like that."

...They didn't notice it, but far away, through the woods and over the dusty valley beyond, the clouds above Electricopolis had begun, quietly and gradually, to disappear.