#head and neck cancer awareness

[dscancertreatment]

Mind Your Head - Head and Neck Cancer Awareness by DSRC

Mind Your Head is a dedicated awareness initiative by DSRC (D S Research Centre) focused on educating the public about the risks, prevention, and early detection of head and neck cancers.

[sunriseoncologycenters]

How successful is treatment for mouth cancer?

Treatment for mouth cancer can be quite successful, especially when the cancer is detected early. The success rate depends on the stage at diagnosis and the treatment plan, which may include surgery, radiation, and chemotherapy. Modern head and neck cancer treatment options have significantly improved outcomes, with many patients achieving remission and leading healthy lives post-treatment. Early detection and comprehensive care are key to successful treatment.

Visit our website by clicking here

[jinnie-ret]

heatstroke

stray kids x ninth member!reader

genre: fluff, angst

content warnings: heat stroke, vomiting

word count: 1.9k

summary: y/n suffers from heat stroke on the day of their performance at lollapalooza

As voted by you!

It's finally here! Sorry it took me a while to post this after the poll ended, but I hope you enjoy!

As always, like, reblog if you enjoyed, and my asks are open for any requests you may have. And let me know if you'd like to be tagged when I post :)

MAIN MASTERLIST

They had made it to Paris. Y/N couldn't believe how big the crowd would be for their performance at the festival 'Lollapalooza'. The sun was shining, and all she wanted to do was fully appreciate the nice weather. Although, where there was a Changbin, there was always chaos.

"Hwang Hyunjin!" Changbin called from opposite Y/N in his deck chair.

"Why do you keep calling me? Wae? Wae. Wae?" Hyunjin loomed over Changbin in a hoodie and sunglasses, wondering why the older member wanted his attention.

"Jinnie how are you wearing a hoodie right now? The sun's out, it's boiling," Y/N raised an eyebrow at him.

"It's not that hot," he shook his head at her, probably side eyeing her from behind his shades.

Each to their own, Y/N thought.

Somehow they came onto the topic of noodles but Y/N wasn't really fussed, she had ramen all the time back home.

She was more trying to relax, and she couldn't help but fall asleep from the comforting warmth of the French sunshine.

"Y/Nnie, wake up, you look like a tomato," Jeongin shook her awake, and as she became fully aware she realised her arms and neck was feeling quite hot.

Shit, she forgot her sun cream.

"You good? Your arms are so red," Chan peered at her, concerned.

"Mmm, my neck feels hot too," Y/N sits up in the deck chair, brushing her hair back so the boys could see.

"Aish that sunburn looks bad, you should have put on some suncream," Felix lightly brushes his finger over her red arm, making her wince.

"Gosh, I'm going to look like a tomato when we perform," Y/N laughs as she looks down at her arms.

"At this rate you won't just look like a tomato, you'll look like the whole garden," Lee Know smirks, proud of his joke.

"Ha, ha, very funny Lee Know," Y/N pats his cheek in a jokingly patronising way, smiling back at him.

"You need to take better care of yourself, Y/N," Chan looked over her, shaking his head.

"I'm sorry Channie, I just wanted to enjoy the nice weather," Y/N pouted.

"You do realise you can get skin cancer if you burn too much?" Seungmin pointed out, taking a sip of water from his bottle.

"Yah, Seungmin don't say things like that I'll get paranoid," Y/N whacks his arm lightly.

"Hey I'm just saying, your skin will age faster too," Seungmin shrugged.

"I'll look like an old woman next to you guys and I'm the youngest!" Y/N laughed, Han appearing with aloe vera out of nowhere and gently rubbing it into her skin, letting out quiet apologies when she winced.

"That's why I'm helping you, don't want you to look like a 60 year old next to us whilst we still look the same," Han laughed loudly.

"Haha, that would look kinda funny though," Y/N laughed at the thought. Perhaps she'd look like grandma I.N with the rest of the group alongside her.

"You know what else would be funny?" Changbin wiggled his eyebrows at her.

"What?" Y/N asked curiously, shifting her body to stand and face him.

"To see you dancing on stage like a tomato, everyone going crazy because of how big and red you are," Changbin maniacally giggled.

The boys burst out laughing at the statement and Y/N's face.

"Huh? Big?!" Y/N gasped laughing.

"I was talking about your cheeks, they're really big and red right now," Changbin laughed, waving his hands in defense of how what he said had sounded.

"Haha, I'll introduce myself like, hi! This isn't Y/Nnie, I'm tomato today!" Y/N put on her stage voice, pretending to introduce herself to her fans.

The members all laugh at her, Jeongin walking up to her and tickling her sides.

"Hey! Are you the new mascot for ketchup?" he cheekily grinned, eyes disappearing through his smile.

"Yah! Jeongin!" Y/N guffawed from his remark.

"Ah, our tomato is blushing so much," Lee Know pats her head smirking.

"Stop, stop," Y/N waves them away.

"Haha, seriously though, come inside the tent for a bit, you should stay out of the sun," Chan guided her into their tent where they were setup before their performance.

"Yeah it's not like we're performing until a few hours anyways," Lee Know nodded, as they all sat around inside.

"Aish, I'm tired," Y/N laid her head down in Han's lap, his hand brushing through her hair out of habit.

"You were literally just napping," Hyunjin raised a brow at her.

"Yeah but..." Y/N closed her eyes feeling relaxed at the familiar feeling.

"Drink some water first," Hyunjin put a bottle of water with a straw in it to her face.

Still with her eyes shut she took a sip and then relaxed. It wasn't until a couple of hours later that she was woken up and ushered to the stylists and makeup artists to get ready.

The crowd was insane. And really, they were the only thing keeping her going as she could feel her energy depleting. She didn't notice the glances from the boys throughout the performance, occasionally spotting her swaying yet she still managed to keep her vocals stable as they performed Superbowl for the first time ever, and Item for the second time ever.

The euphoria running through her veins began to leave her once they reached backstage. With a smile she listened to Felix end their set to hype the crowd with Seven Nation Army. But she couldn't help her slumped figure as she sat down after her desperate search for a chair.

"You good, Y/Nnie?" Chan patted her shoulder, trying to get her attention.

"Hot," Y/N panted, tugging at the collar of her leather jacket that she had been fitted with for the stage performance.

"Take it off then," Changbin helped her shake it off, now feeling concerned at her heavily sweating state.

"What's going on with Y/N?" some of the other members asked as they walked over.

"Ugh, my head," she groaned, now leant forward as she gripped onto her knees for some stability.

"Have some water, silly," Seungmin encouraged her to take his own, yet her shaky hand wasn't very reassuring to the others.

"Y/Nnie, you can't even hold onto it, are you dizzy? What's the matter?" Felix poured out questions, worried about the state she was in.

"Mmm," Y/N nods, as Jeongin helps her sip from the water bottle.

"Ah that's not good," Hyunjin shakes his head, frowning.

"Here, come on, let's get you relaxed somewhere else," Changbin helps her stand, yet as her body becomes upright she stumbles, Lee Know helping to support her balance.

Y/N suddenly tears up, feeling scared about how she was feeling. It was all too overwhelming, and everything felt too hot.

"C-can't feel my arms," Y/N whimpered as tears fell down her cheeks, the boys murmuring amongst themselves worriedly.

"You can't feel your arms?" Felix asked, a scared look on his face, and that made Y/N feel worse, she didn't want the boys to be stressed out for her sake.

"I'm sorry, I..." Y/N trailed off, still panting as she was guided back to her chair, the boys deciding it was for the better for her to rest for now where she was, instead of moving her somewhere else.

"You're okay. Everything is going to be ok, sweetheart, we've got you, yeah?" Chan hushed her soothingly, Han rubbing her back in small circles.

"Should we call a medic?" Jeongin asked, eyes wide with uneasiness.

"Yes, good idea, Innie," Lee Know nodded at him, as they both went to look for some help.

"Y/N, you're ok, you're going to be ok," Hyunjin quietly comforted her, a light grip on her hand as he knelt down beside her.

Y/N groaned again from her headache getting worse.

"Where are those medics?" Changbin asked, looking around frustratedly with his hands on his hips, wondering what was taking so long.

"Don't... worry... don't waste... on me..." Y/N could barely get her words out, especially as a wave of nausea overcome her.

"Yah, it's not a waste, you're clearly not well right now Y/N," Han looked sullen, now fanning her face with a piece of paper he had found.

"S-sorry... ugh, feel... sick," she mumbled dizzily, slumped in the chair.

"You feel sick?" Hyunjin worried.

"I'm gonna... ugh," Y/N, with all her willpower, lifted herself out of the chair, yet it wasn't enough to keep her standing as she collapsed to her knees on the ground and threw up whatever was in her system. The boys were unable to catch her and yelled out as she fell.

"Y/N! Shit!" Changbin held her against him.

"Where are the medics?!" Chan yelled angrily, stress consuming him as their maknae was on the ground.

"Ah, ugh, I'm, ah I'm sorry," Y/N whimpered, tears running down her face from her own panic and the feeling of throwing up.

"You don't have to be sorry, it's ok, just take a deep breath," Han held her hair back, looking around at the boys with his eyes shining with his own tears as he feared she wouldn't be ok.

Y/N threw up again, gasping for breath.

"Is that all of it?" Hyunjin whispered from beside them, Y/N tearily nodding as she slumped back in Changbin's arms, feeling dazed.

Lee Know and Jeongin suddenly rushed over with the medics, both of them seeming angry.

"Finally! Where were they?!" Chan asked them, sighing disappointedly.

"Packing up, they were ready to go even though we only just finished performing," Lee Know gritted his teeth as the medics lifted Y/N onto a stretcher and took her through to a medical room, much cooler with air conditioning blasting through the room.

They held a wet cloth against her forehead and against her burns to try and lower her body temperature. The boys couldn't do anything but wait anxiously as they saw their youngest laying down and getting treated.

"Her temperature is dropping, that's a good sign," the medic said out loud to the boys.

Half an hour had passed and Y/N was now more aware of her surroundings, the medics clearing that she could head back to the hotel with the boys, telling them that if her condition worsens again that they need to call an ambulance immediately.

"I'm sorry," Y/N sleepily muttered as they helped her into the company cars.

"Don't apologise, we were more concerned about you," Seungmin informed her, an arm wrapped around her waist as he and Hyunjin guided her into the back of the car.

"That's why I feel bad," Y/N bit her lip.

"It's ok, you can rest now, don't worry about it ok? I know it's easier said than done but we'll make sure you're ok, and we're doing that because we care about you, yeah?" Chan said from the front seat.

"Ok, ok," she yawned, head leaning against Hyunjin's shoulder.

Once they arrived back at the hotel they didn't let her stay in her own room, as she instead was looked after by Lee Know and Jeongin in another, the two of them making sure she was relaxed and not too hot as they kept the air conditioning on. It may have felt a bit cold for them at one point but they didn't mind, they'd do anything for her. All of the boys would.

tagged: @skz-streamer @oo-li

[gynandromorph]

another NofNA style emulation comic, flashback style. this comic takes place 1 or 2 seasons after this comic. this one was to show Legend's first experience fighting and why she eventually came to start taking classes. she is a very stubborn character and i imagine without anyone telling her to do something else, she would have continued pursuing markscraftsmanship indefinitely. it was supposed to show a little bit of how she thinks in fights, but i think i could have done that part better.

you can see that she's walking home with a classmate who isn't a rodent. based on her dialogue, it seems like she was carrying supplies home herself instead of walking home with a rodent classmate until she befriended BY.

BY is a chacma baboon. he has a few unpleasant qualities, like cowardice and a lack of sensitivity toward Legend's insecurities, but from his perspective, he's just encouraging a friend who isn't confident in her talents and believes she's stuck trying to be a markscraft. there is a reason that he is studying to be a markscraft instead of going into fighting or a more important occupation like law or medicine; he wants a peaceful occupation where he supports other people who have to deal with the stressful stuff. they are sort of just past acquaintanceship -- they don't know each other very well. BY lives within escarpment south, like MK.

Legend lives in the same burrow, but the paperbark thorn is currently a smaller sapling, and there's less grass. the tree the leopard jumps from is a mountain hard pear (olinia emarginata). the shrub that BY hides under is a cancer bush (lessertia frutescens).

it bothered me as a kid (annoyed is maybe a better word) when predators who would chase the protagonists in shows and movies were sort of mindless killing machines, once i learned that they are somewhat selective and often risk-averse, because injury can be a death sentence for them, moreso than herbivores. a herbivore may be able to hide from predators until it heals; a predator can't hide from its need for food. i tried to give the leopard a richer... inner life than that. as Legend mentioned, she is deep past the wild-society border that's patrolled to keep wild predators like her at bay. she is aware of this. the expansion that BY mentioned is an expansion made primarily for an additional educational facility. i mentioned in the linked comic that i think markscraft classes are probably VERY populated, overflowing with students that faculty can't keep up with. the newer facility aimed to help ease the burden of educating a necessary labor force en masse. consequently, the area that the leopard is camping in is a footpath that connects the new writing college campus to a residential traffic junction which is used almost entirely by people who have no training in martial arts -- markscrafts. because the border is newer, there is probably more focus on patrolling the literal border around the campus than the paths connected to it. she is also aware of these things. in my head, she has observed many areas of their society for long periods of time (some more than others; no need to hang around an embassy to be noticed by the juiced guys with kill magic going in and out). she's absolutely picked people off here or there without the path, but she is rather desperate to be predating on largely rodents under half a pound when the consequences could be dire. when she sees two larger citizens on the path without the scent of rationale she has no hesitation. she jumped on the ratel instead of the baboon because the baboon had things stacked on his neck, and she wasn't sure how stiff they were or if she could bite through them right away. i don't know if she's ever hunted a ratel before, or if she simply knows their reputation secondhand, and thought it probably wouldn't be a problem with one coddled by society. i think she's under the belief that, unlike a smaller predator like a ratel, she is not diminutive enough to be welcome in society. it makes sense up front -- who wants to embrace the guy who ate grandma's face or dragged their baby off into the night? there is some powerful insecurity about feeling weaker than a collective group against her, and about the suggestion that there is something wrong with her way of living. i think she probably avoided them until food outside of the border became more scarce. i think wilds are shown as... "not knowing better"; in the addendum of secretary, it's put as "not thinking about the options they might have" -- but we are shown many wilds who know about society. they all seem to at least KNOW about it. they know that there is technically a way to enter it. so they DO know it's an option. it's just an option that's less palatable than killing people. and i wanted to write this leopard like that. i didn't really want her to be a hapless ignorant animal looking for food. food is absolutely part of it, but leopards in particular are very adaptable. she could just as well hunt other predators or pets and livestock near human society, but she has beef (not pun intended). i mentioned that Legend's parents raised her to be sympathetic to wilds, so here she is under the belief that this leopard would not eat people if she simply had Enough Information. who's to say? but she certainly doesn't lack ALL information about it. wilds seem to have a belief that being eaten by an opponent stronger than oneself allows you to become part of the stronger force. NOT eating someone is a grave insult (to predators, anyway, idk how prey species feel about that), and i think sparing her altogether is probably just rubbing salt in the wound about her insecurities wrt society being "better than her."

[astra-ravana]

The Signs: Correspondences

Aries♈

Symbol: The ram

Affirmation: "I am."

Dates: March 21st - April 20th

Day: Tuesday

Element: Fire

Colors: Red, orange, black, white

Body: Head

Ruler: Mars

House: First

Modality: Cardinal

Polarity: Positive

Gender: Masculine

Number: 9

Metal: Iron

Birthstone: Diamond

Season: Spring

Tarot: The Emporer

Exultation: Sun

Fall: Saturn

Detriment: Venus

Plants: Hops, thistle, red clover, honeysuckle, holly, hawthorne, garlic, nettles, cayenne, locust, geranium, saffron, spruce

Crystals: Diamond, rutilated quartz, carnelian, pietersite, bloodstone, citrine, ruby, jasper, super seven, herkimer diamond, Libyan desert glass, danburite, topaz, garnet, hematite, obsidian, sardonyx

Animals: Rams/sheep, tigers, dragons, hawks, wolves, foxes

Archetypes: The Warrior, The Pioneer, The Daredevil, The Survivor, The Child, The Creative, The Adventurer

Keywords: Pioneering, fearless, energetic, impulsive, adventurous, courageous, assertive, brash, optimistic, honest, independent, restless, fiery, fool hardy, forceful, combative, competitive, daring, crude, confident, enterprising, demanding, direct, resilient, dominant, impatient, reckless, loud, rash, stubborn, arrogant, temperamental, humorous, creative, friendly, authentic

Taurus♉

Symbol: The bull

Affirmation: "I have."

Dates: April 21st - May 21st

Day: Friday

Element: Earth

Colors: Green, blue, pink, brown

Body: Neck

Ruler: Venus

House: Second

Modality: Fixed

Polarity: Negative

Gender: Feminine

Number: 6

Metal: Copper

Birthstone: Emerald

Season: Late spring

Tarot: The Hierophant

Exultation: Moon

Fall: Uranus

Detriment: Mars/Pluto

Plants: Wheat, mint, apple, sorrel, foxglove, thyme, rose, sage, daisy, crypress, ash, poppy, basil, violet, dandelion, fig, pear

Crystals: Emerald, rose quartz, malachite, rhodonite, kunzite, peridot, jade, chrysocolla, kyanite, amethyst, pyrite, selenite, turquoise, lapis lazuli, adventurine, tiger's eye, moss agate

Animals: Bulls/cows, elephants, flamingos, turtles, camels

Archetypes: The Earth Spirit, The Musician, The Silent One, The Sage, The Hedonist, The Stabilizer

Keywords: Steadfast, reliable, sensual, patient, practical, loyal, grounded, stable, nurturing, tenacious, stubborn, possessive, materialistic, enduring, committed, devoted, calm, dependable, inflexible, resistant, over-indulgent, caring, resilient, persistent, overly cautious, tranquil, resourceful, sensible, unyielding, pessimistic, jealous, insecure, focused

Gemini♊

Symbol: The twins

Affirmation: "I think."

Dates: May 22nd - June 20th

Day: Wednesday

Element: Air

Colors: Yellow, blue, teal, grey

Body: Arms/hands

Ruler: Mercury

House: Third

Modality: Mutable

Polarity: Positive

Gender: Masculine

Number: 5

Metal: Mercury

Birthstone: Agate

Season: Early summer

Tarot: The Lovers

Exultation: North node

Fall: South node

Detriment: Jupiter

Plants: Anise, lavender, marjoram, hazel, caraway, myrtle, fern, valerian, lily-of-the-valley, bittersweet, chestnut

Crystals: Agate, moonstone, aquamarine, pearl, sapphire, apatite, howlite, alexandrite, chrysophase, celestite, sodalite, lemon quartz, opal, labradorite, tourmaline, onyx

Animals: Horses, dolphins, deer, butterflies, chameleons, monkies

Archetypes: The Witness, The Teacher, The Storyteller, The Journalist, The Messenger, The Unholdable

Keywords: Adaptable, outgoing, curious, intellectual, impulsive, versatile, flakey, gossipy, enthusiastic, indecisive, loving, nosy, open, excitable, flighty, bubbly, fun-loving, verbal, smart, judgemental, nervous, distracted, giving, popular, gentle, emotionally aware, persuasive, intuitive, empathetic

Cancer♋

Symbol: The crab

Affirmation: "I feel."

Dates: June 21st - July 21st

Day: Monday

Element: Water

Colors: White, silver, grey, blue, green

Body: Chest/stomach

Ruler: Moon

House: Fourth

Modality: Cardinal

Polarity: Negative

Gender: Feminine

Number: 2

Metal: Silver

Birthstone: Pearl (moonstone)

Season: Mid summer

Tarot: The Chariot

Exultation: Jupiter

Fall: Mars

Detriment: Saturn

Plants: White rose, verbena, tarragon, water lily, lotus, willow, alder, saxifrage, lettuce, acanthus, jasmine

Crystals: Moonstone, pearl, selenite, calcite, chalcedony, opal, amethyst, emerald, chrysophase, coral, larimar, howlite, peacock ore, blue kyanite, rose quartz, blue lace agate, angelite

Animals: Crustaceans, frogs, whales, rabbits, seals

Archetypes: The Mother, The Healer, The Invisible, The Hysteric, The Counselor, The Psychic, The Maiden

Keywords: Emotional, loving, sensitive cautious, sympathetic, moody, touchy, protective, unpredictable, charming, loyal, tender-hearted, creative, caring, over-emotional, resentful, drastic, nurturing, generous, ardent, consistent, aloof, codependent, coddling, dramatic, hysterical, shrewd, imaginative, possessive, changeable, defensive, clinging, vindictive, devoted, motherly, soft

Leo♌

Symbol: The lion

Affirmation: "I will."

Dates: July 22nd - August 22nd

Day: Sunday

Element: Fire

Colors: Gold, yellow, orange

Body: Heart/spine

Ruler: Sun

House: Fifth

Modality: Fixed

Polarity: Positive

Gender: Masculine

Number: 1

Metal: Gold

Birthstone: Ruby

Season: Late summer

Tarot: Strength

Exultation: Neptune

Fall: None

Detriment: Uranus

Plants: Sunflower, saffron, peppermint, walnut, rosemary, St. John's wort, borage, orange, lemon, bay, olive, marigold, dandelion

Crystals: Ruby, carnelian, citrine, sunstone, spinel hematite, rhodochrosite, rutilated quartz, peridot, pyrite, herkimer diamond, golden topaz, honey calcite, apache tear, tiger's eye, black onyx

Animals: Lions, cats, peacocks, horses, phoenix, eagles, tigers

Archetypes: The King/Queen, The Performer, The Clown, The Golden Child, The Victor, The Magician, The Guardian

Keywords: Confident, loyal, passionate, arrogant, dependable, strong, domineering, vivacious, honest, sociable, warm, self-focused, vain, determined, giving, charismatic, attention-seeking, ferocious, joyous, fun, jealous, inflexible, brave, born leader, kind, reckless, shallow, hospitable, flirtatious, outrageous, wild, cocky, confrontational, magnetic, chatty, luxurious, extravagant

Virgo♍

Symbol: The virgin

Affirmation: "I analyze."

Dates: August 23rd - September 23rd

Day: Wednesday

Element: Earth

Colors: Green, white, brown, navy blue

Body: Abdomen

Ruler: Mercury

House: Sixth

Modality: Mutable

Polarity: Negative

Gender: Feminine

Number: 5

Metal: Nickel

Birthstone: Peridot

Season: Early autumn

Tarot: The Hermit

Exultation: Mercury

Fall: Venus/Neptune

Detriment: Jupiter/Neptune

Plants: Valerian, elder, skullcap, flax, buttercup, lavender, dill, blackberry, morning glory, forget-me-not, hazel

Crystals: Peridot, jade, sapphire, fluorite, sodalite, lapis lazuli, mookaite, zicron, sardonyx, moss agate, nuummite

Animals: Owls, bees, doves, squirrels, mice, salmon

Archetypes: The Perfectionist, The Servant, The Martyr, The Analyst, The Alchemist, The Messenger

Keywords: Analytical, hardworking, meticulous, practical, fussy, judgemental, modest, patient, artistic, critical, attentive, picky, humble, industrious, polite, proper, shy, intelligent, distant, harsh, conservative, anxious, sensitive, dedicated, subtle, curious, classy, responsible, repressed, trustworthy, altruistic, gentle, ethereal, wise, independent

Libra♎

Symbol: The scales

Affirmation: "I balance."

Dates: September 23rd - October 22nd

Day: Friday

Element: Air

Colors: Light blue, pink, green

Body: Kidneys

Ruler: Venus

House: Seventh

Modality: Cardinal

Polarity: Positive

Gender: Masculine

Number: 6

Metal: Copper

Birthstone: Sapphire

Season: Mid-autumn

Tarot: Justice

Exultation: Saturn

Fall: Sun

Detriment: Mars

Plants: Mint, rose, dahlia, feverfew, thyme, ash, burdock, parsley, blue lotus, daisy, poplar, apple, grape, white sycamore

Crystals: Sapphire, jade, sardonyx, opal, turquoise, moonstone, lapis lazuli, rose quartz, larvakite, obsidian, auralite, prehnite, pink tourmaline, morganite

Animals: Ravens, swans, dragonflies, dogs, deer, pandas

Archetypes: The Lover, The Artist, The Peacemaker, The Socialite, The Flirt, The Designer, The Mediator

Keywords: Diplomatic, charming, easy going, fair, balanced, sensual, lazy, indecisive, idealistic, manipulative, dreamy, intellectual, harmonious, influential, friendly, entitled, engaging, likable, melodramatic, gossipy, vain, tactful, witty, funny, tempered, pragmatic, sincere, fickle, bossy, ambivalent, generous, insecure, lovable, creative, optimistic

Scorpio♏

Symbol: The scorpion

Affirmation: "I desire."

Dates: October 23rd - November 22nd

Day: Tuesday

Element: Water

Colors: Dark red, maroon, black

Body: Genitals

Ruler: Mars/Pluto

House: Eighth

Modality: Fixed

Polarity: Negative

Gender: Feminine

Number: 9

Metal: Steel (iron)

Birthstone: Opal

Season: Late autumn

Tarot: Death

Exultation: Uranus

Fall: Moon

Detriment: Venus

Plants: Hawthorne, witch hazel, aloe, catnip, birch, ginseng, onion/leek, heather, geranium, brambles, milk thistle, rhododendron

Crystals: Opal, topaz, malachite, garnet, ruby, labradorite, smokey quartz, beryl, Apache tear, moonstone, shungite, citrine, auralite, super seven, bloodstone, amethyst, abalone, que sera

Animals: Scorpions, spiders, eagles, serpents, panthers

Archetypes: The Detective, The Sorcerer, The Hypnotist, The Witch, The Temptress, The Mystic, The Protector

Keywords: Determined, forceful, intuitive, powerful, magnetic, secretive, ambitious, obsessive, hardworking, emotionally intelligent, creative, seductive, possessive, honest, blunt, passionate, intense, jealous, protective, resentful, tenacious, thrilling, sardonic, stubborn, dark, strategic, loyal, stoic, obstinate, fearless, disciplined, skeptical, self-reliant

Sagittarius♐

Symbol: The centaur/archer

Affirmation: "I see."

Dates: November 22nd - December 21st

Day: Thursday

Element: Fire

Colors: Purple, royal blue, red

Body: Hips, thighs, liver

Ruler: Jupiter

House: Ninth

Modality: Mutable

Polarity: Positive

Gender: Masculine

Number: 3

Metal: Tin

Birthstone: Topaz

Season: Early winter

Tarot: Temperance

Exultation: South Node

Fall: North Node

Detriment: Mercury

Plants: Sage, dandelion, mulberry, cinnamon, wood betony, star anise, mandrake, mallow, oak, thistle, carnations, ash, calamus, orchid

Crystals: Topaz, labradorite, amethyst, azurite, corundom, carnelian, spinel, sugilite, tanzanite, iolite, chalcedony, blue goldstone, yooperlite, lapis lazuli, garnet, blue apatite, quantum quatro

Animals: Horses, stags, falcons, foxes, crows, unicorns

Archetypes: The Gypsy, The Student, The Philosopher, The Psychiatrist, The Seeker, The Comedian, The Guide

Keywords: Adventurous, philosophical, free-spirited, intelligent, direct, impulsive, scatter-brained, forgiving, curious, jovial, good-humored, idealistic, unfiltered, blunt, impatient, preachy, accepting, authentic, energetic, non-committal, compassionate, friendly, unfocused, conflict-avoidant, spontaneous, enchanting, musical, stylish, detached, trusty, pioneering, sophisticated, open-minded

Capricorn♑

Symbol: The sea goat

Affirmation: "I use."

Dates: December 22nd - January 20th

Day: Saturday

Element: Earth

Colors: Dark green, grey, black, brown

Body: Knees

Ruler: Saturn

House: Tenth

Modality: Cardinal

Polarity: Negative

Gender: Feminine

Number: 8

Metal: Lead

Birthstone: Turquoise

Season: Winter

Tarot: The Devil

Exultation: Mars

Fall: Jupiter

Detriment: Moon

Plants: Hemlock, ivy, poppy, beetroot, comfrey, hemp, elm, willow, henbane, knapweed, pansy, yew, onion, hellebore, horsetail

Crystals: Turquoise, onyx, black tourmaline, corundom, smokey quartz, clear quartz, sodalite, jet, larvakite, hematite, pyrite, citrine, aragonite, azurite, malachite, black kyanite, kiwi jasper, tiger iron

Animals: Goats, bees, elk/deer, woodpeckers, penguins, sturgeon

Archetypes: The Hermit, The Father, The Prime Minister, The Miser, The Judge, The Administrator, The Mentor

Keywords: Tough, uncompromising, dedicated, capable, responsible, tenacious, stubborn, practical, wise, persistent, pragmatic, honest, arrogant, controlling, ambitious, steadfast, strong, successful, minimalist, stoic, careful, reserved, mature, dry, pessimistic, disciplined, driven, prudent, shy, greedy, miserly, moody, competitive, moralistic, cynical, harsh, logical

Aquarius♒

Symbol: The water bearer

Affirmation: "I know."

Dates: January 21st - February 18th

Day: Wednesday

Element: Air

Colors: Sky blue, teal, violet, indigo

Body: Shins/ankles, pineal gland

Ruler: Uranus/Saturn

House: Eleventh

Modality: Fixed

Polarity: Positive

Gender: Masculine

Number: 4

Metal: Aluminum

Birthstone: Aquamarine

Season: Late winter

Tarot: The Star

Exultation: None

Fall: Neptune

Detriment: Sun

Plants: Orchid, rowan, mandrake, passion flower, lotus, myyrh, hops, elder, pepper, amber, frankincense, golden rain, bergamot, chilli, saffron

Crystals: Aquamarine, amethyst, moonstone, angelite, sapphire, labradorite, arfedsonite, turquoise, charoite, super seven, Libyan desert glass, lepidolite, que sera, herkimer diamond, lapis lazuli, indigo gabbro, aqua aura,

Animals: Dolphins, snow leaopards, condors, salamanders, snakes

Archetypes: The Genius, The Revolutionary, The Truth Sayer, The Exile, The Scientist, The Rebel, The Outlaw

Keywords: Individualistic, clever, analytical, assertive, innovative, humanitarian, optimistic, eccentric, obstinate, aloof, open-minded, intelligent, unpredictable, impulsive, creative, impulsive, tolerant, social, calculating, chaotic, enigmatic, contradictory, independent, idealistic, unique, humorous, restless, inquisitive, unyielding, detached, lonely

Pisces♓

Symbol: The fishes

Affirmation: "I believe."

Dates: February 19th - March 20th

Day: Thursday

Element: Water

Colors: Sea green, mint, blue, cyan

Body: Feet

Ruler: Neptune/Jupiter

House: Twelfth

Modality: Mutable

Polarity: Negative

Gender: Feminine

Number: 7

Metal: Platinum

Birthstone: Moonstone

Season: Early spring

Tarot: The Moon

Exultation: Venus

Fall: Mercury

Detriment: Mercury

Plants: Water lily, chicory, fig, echinacea, angelica, moss, hazel, fern, eyebright, primrose, willow, iris, seaweed

Crystals: Moonstone, fluorite, aquamarine, larimar, jade, moss agate, amazonite, blue lace agate, blue adventurine, amethyst, dumortierite, tourmaline, apatite, mother of pearl, citrine, kunzite

Animals: Fish, chameleons, butterflies, deer, octopuses, mockingbirds

Archetypes: The Mystic, The Dreamer, The Poet, The Guide, The Medic, The Creator, The Dancer, The Guru

Keywords: Intuitive, creative, brilliant, loving, empathetic, intense, anxious, animated, romantic, soft, adventurous, needy, scatterbrained, mystical, addictive, unmotivated, sentimental, spiritual, compassionate, lighthearted, flexible, forgiving, supportive, kind, sweet, childish, stingy, charming, blunt, self-indulgent, apathetic, fun

[frogsmulder]

writing prompt 20

Also for @randomfoggytiger who requested this prompt: kiss on a scar, and msr

Two's Company

post cancer arc Scully invites Mulder around for dinner; about 850 words; rated t; tagging @today-in-fic

read on ao3

She invited him over for Sunday lunch with her mother, after church.

Slowly, Scully has taken on the advice of father McCue, reaching out with wary hands to those that are important to her. It has been exhausting to let in those that she had shut out. Sometimes she forgets that she is in remission; the instinct to protect those around her strong. In truth, she has always found strength in solitude, drawn to the simplicity of the silence, but without Mulder and her mother she would not be here and she owes it to them to at least try. So Sunday lunch with them both is about all she can muster before her efforts feel distorted and contrived.

That was almost six hours ago and he's still here loitering in her kitchen, while she washes out the two wine glasses they have been drinking from this evening. Her mother excused herself shortly after the dinner, leaving Mulder clinging to her company. He hasn't out-stayed his welcome though: she's enjoyed the time, smiled and laughed and fell into comfortable conversation, sat side by side on her couch, forgetting the elephant in the room. Yet there's a growing nervousness in her stomach–she stops to stare at the palette of deep red at the bottom of the second glass–perhaps precisely because she doesn't want him to go.

When did she become afraid of being alone?

She licks her lip, aware of him watching her from the doorway. The sponge squeaks with bubbles as she wipes out the stain. Casting a glance over her shoulder, she finds him, the sight of him casually leaning against the wall, hands thrust in his jean pockets, enough to pull half a smile from her. His grin back is goofy and big and something in her chest swells. He saunters over, grabbing the tea towel from the cupboard handle as he passes it. She can't take her eyes off him as the ceiling light casts his face with light and shadow, defining those features she knows so well. His nose and lips are prominent in the warm light and his eyes sparkle something mischievous.

He puts a hand on her back and gives her the tea towel to dry her hands. The warmth of his touch serenades her body.

"You look stunning,” he whispers in awe.

She dips her head but can't help her smile, not ready to accept his affection as eagerly as he gives it. Sensing this, he leans closer, driving his point home: “I'm serious, you look amazing: better than ever.”

She manages a humble thank you as his hand travels up and down her back in slow comforting strokes. His warmth spreads throughout her, both slow and heavy like lava in her veins and quick and sharp like lightning through her nerves. Scully cools herself. Focusing on putting the last glass away, she hides the self-regulation of her breath.

“Thank you,” he says simply.

She turns to him. “What for?”

“For dinner, for this–” he gestures between them with a wave of his hand– “for everything.” Her cheeks, red hot, sting with the sudden touch of Mulder's lips. “I… You are so brave and strong everyday, I…”

It's a sentence he can't finish even now. Instead, he reaches for her hand, tethering them together. His thumb caresses her knuckles showing what with words he cannot express.

Her eyes dart back and forth between his, desperately trying to read him. “Mulder…”

He chuckles. “Scully."

“What–”

He brushes her hair behind her ear and gazes at her, as if he could join with her soul if he only looked hard enough. He wraps his arms around her, pulling her in for an all-consuming bear-hug. She allows herself to fall into the familiarity of his shape, his smell, seeking her own private comfort as he presses his nose to the side of her neck. “I missed you so bad and you weren't even gone. There were times I thought I'd never see you again.”

And there it is; the elephant that can no longer be ignored. She holds her breath and tries not to blink, still as a statue, the threat of gasps and tears locked inside of her. His fingers tentatively part the hair at her neck, sensitive fingertips tracing her fresh scar there.

Scully's stomach drops as he kisses just to the side of his fingers, as if saying a prayer to the metal buried beneath her skin.

“I’m sorry I gave you another scar. It shouldn't be like this,” he mumbles, voice thick with guilt.

She pulls away to see his face. “Mulder… you didn't do this: you saved me. It was your strength that saved me."

He laughs nervously, his eyes beginning to get that sheen she's seen before beside her hospital bed. “I guess I’m just grateful now for your company. Thanks for having me around, Scully.”

“I…” She tries for the sentiment he failed earlier but the words lodge in her throat, both insufficient and too much. She opts instead to show her reciprocation, stretching up on tiptoes to kiss his cheek. “Thank you for being around.”

[joelswritingmistress]

You Scare Me, Professor: Chapter 26

Summary: The reader is taking graduate classes at a local university in the wooded upstate New York. She is drawn to her professor, Dr. Joel Miller, though she is also inherently aware that he has something dark about him that she can't quite put her finger on. As the reader's attraction grows deeper, she has to decide whether to endure the danger or run away as fast as possible. 

Pairing: Professor Joel Miller x f!reader 

Fuck. I was addicted. I was done. I was his. The whole cliché fantasy about making love on a bear-skinned rug at a snowy mountain cabin in front of a roaring fire lived up to the hype; especially when my authoritative lover didn't leave a single part of my body untouched.

As I laid in the dim lighting on the living room floor looking up at the ceiling, I placed a hand on my throat where Dr. Miller’s had been as he dirty talked me through a thigh-shaking orgasm.

“Did I hurt you?” He placed a soothing hand over the highest part up my chest and drew his fingers up the sensitive skin of my neck.

I turned to him and smiled. “No.” My eyes closed when he let his fingers tiptoe down between my bare breasts before trailing off at my belly button.

Dr. Miller rested a hand on the curve of my hip and propped himself up onto an elbow beside me. He let the side of his face sit in his palm and stared down at me.

“This house was left to me in a will by a man named Lou Brackett,” Dr. Miller said, holding my stare. “He also left me a big inheritance because he had no family left when he died.”

Finally, some answers. Some. “Who was he?”

“I met him through my old job. I was in my late twenties, he was in his early seventies then and passed away of cancer a short time later. When I was notified that he left me all of this I didn't know what to make of it.”

“Were you close with him?”

Dr. Miller nodded. “But I wouldn't have expected him to give me anything in his will. Certainly not all this.”

“Maybe he looked at you like a son.. or a grandson.” I shrugged, “And if he had no family left, it's better than letting the state just take everything.”

He cleared his throat and nodded, looking at the fire for a moment. “I don't want you to be alone on campus anymore.”

I raised my eyebrows at the sudden subject change.

“I spend a little time in the library sometimes in between work and class,” I admitted.

Dr. Miller made a face. “Well, when it's dark don't walk alone. Even just for a few minutes. That's all it takes. Until this guy is caught I'd rather you not take any chances.”

“Okay.” I nodded.

“If I’m teaching and you can't find someone, text me and I'll act like I forgot something in my car and walk you to yours.”

“I'm really fine,” I assured him. “I know it's really close to home and-”

“I just can't stop thinking about you being alone in the bathroom on campus-”

I leaned up and silenced him with a kiss. My palm pressed into the back of his head and I took over his mouth with my own.

Our lips parted and Dr. Miller pulled me back to him.

“You have to tell me the whole story,” I gasped the words aloud but he kissed me hard again. "About the house. About all of it."

“Okay,” he promised in a whisper, laying me down on my back again.

My eyes closed and wrapped my arms around him as he kissed down my neck. “Okay.”

..

I wasn’t as concerned for my own safety the same way that Dr. Miller was. I wasn’t acting recklessly by any means, and I still got a chill when I thought of the incident in the bathroom, but studying over notes in the library didn’t exactly put me on high alert.

Dr. Miller, however, was like a hawk watching over its nest. My eyes practically bugged out of my head when I saw him enter the media center. Our eyes met and I smiled, though he moved around the space as if he had another purpose for being there. He conversed with the aging librarian, spoke with a few students who recognized him and then made his way to the table where I sat.

“Will you be alright to go back to the house tonight?” He asked quietly.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

“You could always just wait in my office.”

“That would look suspicious.”

“No one would know that you were in there.”

I had the urge to stand up and peck him on the lips. I would have if we were at home but rather I just smiled. “It’s my home now, too, remember?” I grinned, “I have to get into a normal routine.”

Dr. Miller sighed and nodded. I knew he would have had me handcuffed to him if it were plausible; but it wasn’t. “You’re right.” His fingers subtly grazed over mine on the table top and he continued his walk around the library. That was about as much physical interaction we could have on campus. The fact that he had to touch me in some way made me smile to myself.

I tried to focus on the material I was reading, but my eyes kept scanning for him each time he ducked in and out of the stacks. Eventually he made his way back toward me, stuck a post-it note onto my book and smirked at me. 

I squinted my eyes and smirked back, staring at the message he’d scribbled down. It was a code to locate a book. K-353-K1521. 3rd row down. 24th Book from the left.

“What’s this?” I whispered, though Dr. Miller didn’t respond. He failed to hold back another devilish smirk and then wandered slowly away toward the doors of the library. I watched him go and he glanced over his shoulder at me before making his way back outside.

I waited a few minutes, so as not to make it obvious, and then rose to my feet with the sticky note in hand and began my little scavenger hunt around the area. 

What is this book he wants me to find?

I had to admit, I hadn’t searched library stacks for a book in a very long time, so navigating my way around wasn’t exactly second nature. Most of the time the research I wanted to do was all at the tip of my fingers via my smart phone or lap top. 

At the end of each row were labels with letters and numbers. I searched and searched, mostly blindly, until finally coming across K-353 - K1521. I had to admit, I loved the mystery and the games.

My eyes glanced upward and I reached up to the third row, beginning to count across from the left.

One, two, three..

I counted across, going slow so I wouldn’t accidentally skip over one and land on the wrong title.

Twenty-three, twenty-four.

I turned my head to the side to read the title of the book and then removed it from its spot.

Kama Sutra.

I laughed lightly to myself, and then glanced to my left and right before flipping open the book to a random page. I drew a hand over the back of my neck, continuing to grin as I browsed the illustrations on the page that went along with the Padmasana sex position.

As I began to read the description, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I knew who it was.

Make sure you read and do your homework, Dr. Miller’s text read, followed by a second one that made me laugh: Exam tonight.

I typed back, smiling as I did, and snapped a photo of the page I was on. I then decided to discreetly bring the book back to my table.

Should I check the book out? I wondered. I was so shy, I didn’t know if I could face the old lady behind the counter with the book in my hand. I decided to ask Dr. Miller, to which he replied: Take pictures of what you want to do then put the book back. I have a copy at home. I just wanted to get you thinking about it. Sometimes that’s the best kind of foreplay.

It certainly was. I began to flip through the pages of the book, taking pictures of things I wouldn’t mind trying. Dr. Miller was right. After just a minute or two I was already picturing what it would feel like to carry out some of the new positions with him. My face felt flushed and I hoped no one would interrupt the little task he’d put me up to.

My eyes lifted when I sensed someone had crossed past the aisle I was seated in and then I continued what I was doing until there were only about fifteen minutes until my class started. Dr. Miller would be right next door, and from the texts he was already sending me I could tell his thoughts would surely be in the same place as mine for the next several hours.

I finally closed the book and hurried back down to the aisle where I’d taken the book from, setting it back where it belonged. As I squeezed it back between two other books, I saw a pair of eyes peering at me from behind the stack in the next row.

“(Y/N).” They said my name quietly and I stepped backwards in response.

“What?” I swallowed hard and saw movement in the small spaces left available by the rows of books. I was tempted to run out of the aisle and into the main area of the library, though when Trevor emerged I placed a hand over my chest. “Trevor.” I felt relief, “You scared me.”

“I’m sorry,” he practically squeaked, adjusting his glasses.

“It’s fine.” I hoped he hadn’t seen the book I was putting back.

“Are you headed to class?”

“Yeah, I am.” I gave a nod. “Are you?”

“Yeah. I am.” He smiled, echoing my words.

I glanced up at the windows on the walls. It was dark outside. Dr. Miller didn’t want me to be alone. “Want to walk with me?” I asked.

Trevor nodded. “Yeah. Yes. Just.. let me get my stuff.”

“I have to get mine, too,” I told him. “I’ll meet you by the front doors.”

He smiled again and adjusted his glasses before power walking awkwardly down the row. His eyes glanced upward toward the area where I put the Kama Sutra book away and I shuddered to think he might actually know what I had been looking at.

Who cares. I rolled my eyes at myself and then went to retrieve my belongings. I texted Dr. Miller to let him know I was about to be on my way and then strolled to where Trevor was already waiting by the doors, hugging his laptop.

“Ready?” He asked with another Howdy Doody grin.

I nodded and sighed as I stared at the building we were headed to across the green. “Ready.”

CLICK HERE FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER

@untamedheart81 @suttonspuds @cesspitoflove @michilandcof @grogusmum @morallyinept @akah565 @brittmb115 @magpiepills @poodlebae @gobaaby-blog-blog @mermaidgirl30 @mandijo17 @shotgun-shelby @itscatrodriguez-thepearl @macaroni676 @acciowolfstar1 @smolbeanzz

[the-lonely-crow]

I’m feeling very calm and normal by the way in case anyone was wondering. Also his tattoos are the alchemical symbol for life and an ouroboros which symbolizes eternal cycles of death and rebirth, if you even care.

[Image ID: digital full body drawing of Gerry Keay from the Magnus Protocol. He has long black hair with blond streaks in the front. He is wearing an oversized gray long sleeve shirt with the sleeves pushed up around his elbows and black ripped jeans with fishnets showing through the holes in the knees and black combat boots. On the front of his neck he has a large death head moth tattoo. Just under it there is the alchemical symbol for life. Over his shoulders and across his color bones there are leafy vine tattoos. An ouroboros (snake eating its own tail) tattoo can be seen peaking over the neckline of his shirt. He wears a tan apron over his clothes and everything except his shirt is covered in streaks and splatters of colorful paint. His apron has three pockets in a row. The far left and center pockets both have various shapes and sizes of paint brushes in them while he has his right hand in the far right pocket. In the top left corner of his apron he has a rainbow pride pin and in the top left there is a gray brain cancer awareness ribbon pinned with a safety pin onto his apron. He is smirking slightly and looking off to the right of frame. He looks happy. /End ID]

[leiascully]

X-Files OctoberFicFest Day 31: Fright

This year, I'm using the October 2022 prompts from @artpromptcal.

Fright is a natural response. Scully knows that. She's grateful for her fear. It's saved her, over and over. But she's never been more terrified in her life than standing in the fourth floor hallway at 42 Hegel Place, watching Mulder pace in his dark t-shirt. Every step he takes echoes in her bones. He's the moon to her: he's always had that kind of gravity, always lit up her nights, always tugged at her until her tides turned. She sways in her heels, exhausted.

It took the last of her energy to decide to leave him. She's empty now, fragile. She felt more solid when she had cancer. Mulder is so much a part of her that cutting him out will end her. Whatever moves to Utah to start over will be Dana Scully in name, but without substance, like a blown eggshell. All she has left of herself is her fear; nothing that wasn't hers would know so intimately where she's weak.

And oh, she's weak for him. It eats her up inside, that fear gnawing into her marrow. Fear of leaving him, fear of losing him. Fear of his anger, even if it's directed around her rather than at her. Fear of his sorrow and the hollow nights it leads to. Fear of her own sorrow, her own sadness. Fear that none of this was worth it, in the end, that she's giving up, that she's giving in. But she's got nothing left.

He prowls toward her like a panther. The words he's saying barely make sense at first: she processes the frustration more than the sense of them, and flinches. But then he's telling her she saved him. She keeps him honest. She makes him a whole person. He owes her everything. She owes him nothing.

His eyes are so green in the dim. And she's afraid, oh, she's afraid, even when she settles into his arms. Desire flickers around the edges of her fear but can't burn it away. Still, she slips her hand around his neck and he dips his head to receive a kiss. Her lips linger against his skin and she's afraid. He raises his head and looks into her eyes and she's afraid. She looks up at him and fear steals her breath: she's afraid, she's afraid, she's afraid. Damned if she does and damned if she doesn't. Terrified to kiss him and terrified not to. Their futures are balanced on the knife-edge of her fear: Utah, DC, the black oil, the end of the world, all their joy and pain, all their potential.

The only thing bigger than her fear is him. He fills her field of vision. He eclipses her trepidation. He's the moon and she's drawn into his orbit. Her lips part. His head is haloed in light, a corona of dread. What if everything changes. What if nothing does.

When she kisses him, he'll draw the fear out of her body like snake venom. When she kisses him, she'll see the path of her life picked out in stars. It scares her, how much she wants that. How much she wants him. She leans closer. She sips at his breath.

The fear pricks at her neck. She doesn't kiss him. The fear swallows her like icy water: she'll never kiss him now. She slips down into it, gasping, half aware of the ways his arms cradle her.

She's afraid. And then she's gone. She drifts in a slough of unease for days or years, and then one day his hand breaks the surface and he draws her back into the world. The fear drains away onto the deck of an alien ship. She's free. She's whole.

[whiskey-tango-matcha]

Cry Wolf (m, cold)

Buckle up, y’all, it’s 5k words of ~pure drama~. Lmao, but for real this one is long, dramatic, and a little snz-light (apologies). Also, there isn’t a sneeze until like 2500 words in (oops). Greyson fakes a cold to try to get out of trouble with Elijah, and is instant-karma’d, as one would hope lol. It’s a little more flowery, there’s a lot of snarky dialogue and inner monologuing... idk. I like this one, even though it’s not super snz-heavy. I hope you guys do, too. Let me know what you think :) 

cw: male, cold, coughing, fever

Cry Wolf

“Not to be dramatic, but that sounds like literally the worst event on planet earth and I think I would rather be entirely consumed in flames than do it.”

Elijah turned around slowly in his chair and gave Greyson an incredulous look. “‘Not to be dramatic’? What would being dramatic sound like if not that?”

Greyson shrugged and reached around his boss to click out of the email displaying the event details. “Probably me saying, ‘If you make me do that event, I will cut off my own arms and legs and feed them to you’,” he said, sliding back into his own rolling chair. “But that seemed a bit much, even for me.”

“Yeah, that’s a bit much,” Elijah said, grabbing his mouse back and reopening the email. “Consumed in flames is so much more chill.”

“Agreed.”

Elijah snorted. “Grey, I’m sorry but this isn’t an event we can turn down. I know it’s a lot of work, but the press it gets is unparalleled.”

Greyson groaned and threw his head back theatrically. “Liiiiiij,” he moaned, “c’mon, dude. A ten-course dinner for a bunch of blowhard millionaires throwing pocket change at kids with cancer? Seriously? It sounds like my literal definition of hell. Plus, you know anytime I step into one of those stuffy, soulless banquet halls I break out in hives.”

“Genuinely, and I mean this with all the love in my heart, I have never met anyone as dramatic as you are. And I have a twelve-year-old niece, so that’s saying something,” Elijah said, placing a faux-caring hand on Greyson’s arm. The chef shook it off, annoyed, and Elijah laughed. “Grey, I get that the people who pay to go to these things are assholes, but it really is a good cause. Plus, the American Pediatric Cancer Society seriously has the crème de la crème of social media teams. They promote you for months before and after the event.”

Greyson bit his cheek to keep from laughing. “Creme de la crème?” he asked. “Seriously?”

“Oh, fuck you, Chef.” Elijah said, shaking his head. “You’re doing the damn event. Get used to it.”

***

“Chef?”

Elijah looked around the corner, behind the line, and in the prep kitchen, but Greyson was nowhere to be found.

“Greyson!” Elijah called, pushing through the swinging doors to the dining room, and running directly into the chef, who was innocently making coffee in the server’s station.

“Yes…?” Greyson asked, putting a lid on his coffee and making his way past Elijah, back into the kitchen. The GM followed behind him, annoyed.

“Have you ordered anything for the dinner this Friday yet?”

Greyson raised an eyebrow. “I thought we were closed Friday?”

Elijah gave Greyson a look of complete exasperation. “Yes, we’re closed, Grey, but you remember why we’re closed, right?”

“Uh…” Greyson said, eyes darting towards the calendar. “...winter break for the staff?”

Elijah pursed his lips and closed his eyes; he took a deep breath, pressed his hands together, and readdressed the chef in an entirely too-calm tone. “Greyson. No. Not winter break for the staff.”

Greyson rubbed the back of his neck, nervous. “You’re… out of town?”

“The cancer awareness dinner, Greyson, oh my fucking god,” Elijah slapped a hand on the desk beside them and Greyson cringed. “How could you forget this? The fuck is your problem? We’ve had it on the calendar for months.”

“Dude, I’m really sorry, it just slipped my mind! I’ll be ready, it’s only Monday, this shindig is in four days, I’ll order the stuff now,” Greyson said. He turned towards the desk and started rummaging through the mess of papers by his computer, before looking up at Elijah again, guiltily. “...did we send them a menu?”

“Jesus fucking christ, Greyson, yes we sent them a menu in September. Seriously, are you okay? How in the ever-living fuck could you forget such a huge event? I know you don’t want to do it, but fuck, Greyson, this is my restaurant and my reputation on the line!” Elijah couldn’t seem to ebb the anger now that it had started flowing. He slammed himself into his chair and pounded the computer keys until a PDF popped up – the menu they’d had approved three months earlier. Greyson visibly shrunk back.

“Oh,” he mumbled. “Yeah, I… now I remember. Shit, Lij, I’m so sorry, man.”

Elijah pulled a hand down his face and pressed his fingers into his eyes before addressing the chef. “I’m asking in earnest this time,” he said, his voice small and controlled. “Are. You. Okay. Because you never forget shit like this.”

In hindsight, Greyson knew he shouldn’t have said it; he should’ve told Elijah that he’d put the dinner out of his head the moment he’d halfheartedly slapped together a menu and hoped that Elijah would do the same. He should’ve said that he’d hoped Matt would want to take it over, even though he knew Elijah would never let the sous chef take care of such a high-touch dinner. He should’ve said fucking aliens had abducted him and stolen that one piece of information from his mind, for fuck’s sake, anything other than what actually came out of his mouth.

“Actually, I uh… I haven’t been feeling great. Maybe I’m like, coming down with something?”

In what universe, a tiny voice in Greyson’s head whispered, is this a good idea?

Elijah’s face softened at the false admission. “Shit, Greyson, really? Why didn’t you tell me? What’s wrong?”

Greyson felt the guilt pool in his stomach the moment Elijah’s voice turned to one of concern. Shit. “Uh, I mean, it’s probably nothing. Just like a, uh…sore throat and headache. Just not feeling 100% myself. I’ll be good, just, y’know… a little foggy. But I promise, I’ll order the stuff now and make sure I have cooks for this weekend, okay? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to forget.” At least only half of that was a lie, Greyson thought to himself, grimacing. He and Elijah never lied to each other – as a rule.

Elijah sighed. “I’m sorry for yelling,” he said, “and I’m sorry you aren’t feeling well. Did you take something?” Greyson nodded, the guilt pool in his gut growing larger. “Okay,” Elijah said. “Just… I mean, let me know if it gets worse, okay? Take it easy today. I’ll close the books.”

Greyson nodded as his boss stood and placed a firm hand on his shoulder. He swallowed hard, a swallow that probably looked painful, and Elijah winced in sympathy. You fucking asshole, Greyson chastised himself. “I’m good, boss. Thanks, though.”

Elijah gave the chef a small smile and headed out to the dining room to talk to the host. Greyson let out a little ‘fuck’ and sat down to call purveyors. Why would he say that? If there was one thing Elijah was sympathetic of, it was illness. Greyson had essentially phoned in sympathy points because he didn’t want to be yelled at. What was he, a child?

Greyson tried to shake it off; maybe Elijah would forget the fake-sickness in lieu of the big event this weekend. Maybe this wasn’t a big deal at all. The chef put his head down and called the first purveyor, made an excel sheet, began preparing for the dinner he desperately did not want to do.

He was so wrapped up in preparations, he didn’t see Elijah sneak in to the office; didn’t see him stealthily switch out his coffee cup, or leave just as quick as he’d come in. He didn’t notice until he lifted the cup, took a big swig – and swallowed down a hard lump of guilt with the lemon tea Elijah had brought him. Oh, fuck, Greyson thought, placing his head in his hand. This is not going to end well.

***

The shift felt long.

“Get some rest, okay?” Elijah said to Greyson as the chef packed up his bag. “We need you at 100% for Friday.”

Greyson nodded, somber, and hiked his backpack onto his back. “You got it, boss,” he said; he’d been a man of very few words tonight, which didn’t help the long shift feel any shorter. “I’ll be all good tomorrow. Promise.”

Elijah gave his friend a small smile and nodded back. “See you in the morning,” he said, and Greyson gave a wave behind his head as he walked out the door. Once the chef was out of earshot, Elijah sighed.

He wouldn’t deny the fact that he was worried. Greyson was the king of pushing through illness, but he had a tendency to push himself too hard too quickly, and end up absolutely destroyed a few days into whatever ailment he was fighting. Elijah wanted to make sure that didn’t happen this time; all day, he’d tried to keep Greyson seated if possible, to keep him hydrated, to bring him lozenges and Dayquil and make him ingest them. Care-taking was far from his strong suit, but today he’d really tried; not only to keep Greyson from careening into a worse illness, but to make up for the fact that he’d yelled at him. That had been uncalled for, and he felt like an ass.

An hour or so after the kitchen staff had departed, the final server closed out her check and brought Elijah her paperwork. He finished filling everything out, filed the daily report, and shut off the harsh kitchen light. As he waved the last server goodbye, he found himself thinking, I need a drink. It wasn’t something he did often, but occasionally he’d stop by the club three doors down for a beer and the possibility of spending the night with a real person instead of a glass of whiskey and late-night talk shows. Tonight, when he didn’t have the option of grabbing a burger with Greyson – his only real friend, if he was being honest – at the dive bar, felt like a perfect night to scout for some booze and a warm body to fall asleep next to.

Elijah pulled his jacket on, locked the back door of the restaurant, and set out for the club. The air was frigid this evening; he huddled further into his jacket and upped his pace, reaching the front door of Zed in record-time. He was practically salivating at the thought of a neat whiskey as he yanked open the heavy door – fuck the beer. Let’s get right to the good stuff.

The club was full, but not packed, and Elijah managed to get a seat at the bar – rare here, especially since the club’s bar was tiny by design. They wanted you on the dance floor, mingling, sweating, working up a thirst for another, and another, and -

“Can I get another double Maker’s?” Elijah’s ears perked up at the sound of someone ordering over his head; if there was one voice he knew for certain, it was that one. The GM turned slowly around and to his left – oh, you mother fucker.

“Greyson?” Elijah called over the thump of electronic music. From about a yard away, Greyson’s  head snapped around, searching for the voice that said his name. When he and Elijah locked eyes, Elijah noticed he was sweating and panting – and certainly not from any feigned fever.

“Oh… fuck,” Greyson said, obviously too drunk to realize how loud he was being. “Oh, shit. Fuck. Lij, I -”

Elijah shook his head. “I see you’re… feeling better,” he called over the heads of the people seated next to him. “Asshole.”

Greyson couldn’t seem to form words after that, and the bartender interrupted him anyway by placing a full glass of whiskey on the bartop. “Name on the card?” the bartender asked. Before Greyson could answer, Elijah called out to the bartender.

“Put it on me,” he said, and the bartender nodded before moving to help another guest. Greyson stood, seemingly stuck in place, before taking a tentative step towards his boss. Elijah put a hand up, as though to say stop right there. “No need to thank me, chef,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Enjoy your… medicine.”

Elijah slapped a fifty on the bartop in front of him. He drained his whiskey, slammed down the glass, and breezed past Greyson, his face flaming with embarrassment. What an ass he was, not realizing he’d been played. What a complete moron.

“Elijah, wait -” he heard Greyson call behind him – but he wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction. Without looking back, Elijah pushed open the door and immediately hailed a cab outside. When Greyson finally made it past the throngs of people and into the street, Elijah was long gone.

***

To say the next few days were awkward would be the understatement of the century.

The morning after the club, Greyson had barreled into the office, spewing apology after apology before Elijah could even say hello. The GM had accepted, albeit coldly, and hadn’t mentioned it for the remainder of the day. He hadn’t mentioned much of anything, truly, and when the shift ended Elijah walked out without saying goodbye, leaving Mark to close the restaurant down.

“What did you do?” Mark had asked Greyson when their boss had departed. Greyson just shook his head.

“I fucked up,” he said. Mark snorted.

“Clearly.”

The next day had continued in the same fashion; Elijah giving Greyson the cold shoulder, Greyson attempting to apologize in every way he could think of. They barely spoke Thursday, as well – and by then, Greyson was starting to worry that they’d never speak again.

“He’ll talk to you tomorrow,” Mark promised when Elijah walked out for the third night in a row without saying goodbye. “He can only hold a grudge for seventy-two hours, max.”

Greyson wasn’t so sure. He’d never seen Elijah this mad before, not even when Greyson had fucked up and only bought two tenderloins for a party that requested nothing but steak in his first month of working together. Plus, Greyson was dealing with a bit of a sticky situation – a situation that he was sure would make Elijah ten times angrier at him. A situation that literally could not have arisen at a worse time.

“Hhh...hhNGTSH-zue! HTSHH-ue! NGTZSHUE!”

“Bless,” Mark said, distractedly, his eyes trained on the computer monitor in front of him. “You feeling okay?”

He wasn’t. He’d woken up that morning with his throat sticky, and his head pounding. Instant karma, he’d thought as he chugged tea in place of his usual coffee. When he remembered the tea Elijah made for him a few days before – a gentle kindness, a peace offering, a showing of care for someone who’d blatantly lied to his face – his stomach soured. Greyson had dumped the tea down the drain and forced himself to chug an energy drink instead; the bubbles made him cough until his ribs were sore.

“I’m good,” Greyson said, stealthily managing to keep the congestion out of his voice. “Allergies.”

Mark turned to the chef, an eyebrow raised. “It’s December,” he said.

“Right,” Greyson answered, though it wasn’t an answer at all. “Yeah, it is.”

The event was tomorrow; Elijah had spoken to Greyson long enough to remind him that they needed to be in the van by three PM for a six PM call time at the banquet hall. Greyson had said he knew, had said he’d be in at ten to get everything finished and packed and make sure Matt was well-versed on their menu, as he was the second set of hands Greyson would need to plate up. Elijah had nodded, obviously done with the conversation, and that had been that.

“Alright, Chef, I’m out of here,” Mark said, snapping Greyson back to reality. “You need anything before I go?”

Greyson shook his head. “Thangks, Mark,” he said, internally cursing the congestion that had wormed its way into his voice. Mark pursed his lips.

“Yeah,” he said. “Get some sleep, Chef.”

A parroting of Elijah’s sentiment at the beginning of the week; a mockery. One that Greyson most certainly deserved.

***

When Elijah got in the morning of the event, Greyson was already in the prep kitchen tightly wrapping his food for the evening and briefing Matt on the menu. The GM sighed; it was finally time.

“Chef,” Elijah said, knocking politely on the wall. Matt and Greyson looked up, surprised, and gave their boss matching smiles.

“Morning, boss,” Greyson said, his voice low. Something seemed… off, but Elijah couldn’t put his finger on it.

“I just wanted to say, I accept your apology,” Elijah said. “Thanks for letting me sulk the past few days.”

Greyson raised an eyebrow, but nodded. “Thanks, boss,” he said, simply. “I appreciate it. Sorry againd.”

Elijah nodded back and made his way towards the dining room to begin packing up dishware for the dinner. Something was weird about Greyson today; he’d really expected a bit more fanfare when he’d announced his acceptance. A bit more gushing, maybe a signature Greyson pick-you-up-off-the-ground hug – but he got none of it. If anything, Greyson seemed more reserved than Elijah had been in the days leading up to the dinner. Maybe he was angry that Elijah had held the grudge for so long – though that didn’t seem like Greyson in the slightest.

He decided to drop it; most likely, he was putting weight on a situation that required none. Elijah finished packing the dishes into milk crates, and headed back into the kitchen to ask Greyson and Matt for help loading them in the van.

“Grey?” Elijah called into the kitchen. “Matt? Can you guys come give me a ha -”

“HNGTSSHHH-ue! HTSHZUE! NGTSH! Huh-! Huhh...HUHESTZHUE!”

He wasn’t cut off, because Greyson clearly hadn’t heard him speaking before unleashing a seemingly-unending volley of sneezes. Elijah’s heart first sunk deep into the pit that was his stomach – and then his face flamed with an anger he hadn’t expected.

“Oh, you’re shitting me,” he muttered, stomping his way into the back kitchen. “You are absolutely fucking kidding.”

Greyson, who was posted up at the sink blowing his nose, nearly jumped when he saw Elijah storm into the prep kitchen. “Christ,” he said, trying to nonchalantly throw the paper towel he was holding away, “give a guy a heart attack.”

“Is this some kind of joke to you, Greyson?” Elijah asked, crossing his arms. Greyson sniffled, rubbed his nose on the back of his hand, and raised an eyebrow, clearly waiting for Elijah to continue his diatribe.

“Is… what a joke?” Greyson asked when he realized he wasn’t getting any more context clues from his boss. Elijah huffed out an angry laugh.

“You’re trying to fuck with me. Right? You’re trying to make me look like an ass, see if I’ll once again feed into your weird little game.” Elijah was practically snorting with anger; he couldn’t help it. Fool me once, and all that.

“Lij,” Greyson said, holding his hands up as though to surrender, “I… I don’t kndow what you’re talking about.” Elijah laughed – a mean, ringing sound.

“I get it; you’re making a point. You don’t want to do this event and you never have. Well, Greyson, it’s too fucking late now, so just stop. I’m not in the mood for whatever fucking ruse you and your little minion have up your sleeves. So get rid of whatever it is you’re using to make yourself sneeze – we get it, ha ha, Elijah’s a moron, so goddamn funny – and cut it out. In fact, hand it over. Clearly you’re too much of a fucking child to know when enough is enough.” Elijah held out his hand, waiting on Greyson or Matt to fess up and slap a pepper mill or something into his hand, but neither of them stirred. After an awkward moment of the three of them standing, all waiting for something to happen, Matt cleared his throat.

“Um…” he said, “I… I don’t know what’s going on here, but we don’t, like… have anything.”

Elijah threw the sous chef a dirty look, then looked back to Greyson. “You’ve got him trained well,” he said, not giving it up. Greyson opened his mouth to say something, but his face collapsed before the words could make it to his mouth. He crumpled to the side and used an elbow to cover his mouth.

“HRRTSHH-uh! Huh...huhhNGTSHH-ue! ITZSCHUE! Huh! Hhh…” Greyson didn’t allow himself the luxury of waiting on the last sneeze to make its appearance; instead, he pinched his nose to ebb the fit and coughed into his palm – a hacking, congested sound. Elijah’s anger dried as quickly as rain in the Sahara desert – oh, fuck.

“Oh… fuck,” Elijah muttered as Greyson grabbed another handful of paper towels to blow his nose into. “You’re… you’re not actually sick, are you?”

Matt started to answer for him, but Greyson cut his sous off. “Ndo,” he said, curtly. “Allergies or sombething. Ndot tryigg to fuck with you. Sorry, Lij.” He finished with another painful-sounding cough, while behind him Matt shook his head, eyes wide; a silent miming of he’s sick as a dog.

Before Elijah could say anything else, Greyson tossed the paper towels and headed out towards the dining room. “Were you sayigg you ndeed help with plates?” he asked, wiping a hand under his nose and swallowing painfully. Elijah, unsure of how to handle this situation, simply deflated, a balloon in the harsh summer sun.

“Um. Yes,” he said, following behind Greyson. “Yeah, I… help would be great.”

Greyson nodded, turned, and headed to grab the plates. Elijah held back, and turned to Matt.

“He actually has a cold now, doesn’t he?” he asked, though it was soft enough to not know if it was to Matt or himself. Matt shook his head.

“No,” he said, giving Elijah a disapproving look. “It’s definitely not a cold.”

With that, the sous followed behind his boss, side chosen – leaving Elijah standing stalwart in the back of the kitchen. This, he thought to himself, is not going to end well.

***

If he was being honest, Greyson wasn’t sure how he was going to make it through this dinner.

At the beginning of the day, he’d been fairly sure he could hold it together; sure, his throat was on fire, and he couldn’t stop coughing. Yes, he was stuffed up to the gills and every little movement triggered another sneeze fit. But he hadn’t had a fever, and he’d been plying himself with cold meds, so everything had been fine.

...that is, until the Elijah-explosion.

Things had gone downhill quickly after Elijah’s screaming fit. Greyson started attempting to hold back all of his sneezes and coughs, resulting in a headache that made his eyes feel like two swollen golf balls lodged inside a too-small head. He’d stopped pounding ibuprofen, cough syrup, and dayquil after Elijah’s freak-out, too; didn’t want to seem like he was egging his boss on. Now that they had arrived at the event, he had a new problem: it was incredibly difficult to medicate in a banquet hall filled with stuffy, old assholes.

“Mbatt, is that everythi – NGTSH! TSH! HTSH! Huh - ! HRSSH-uhh!” Greyson tried desperately to hold back yet another string of sneezes, to no avail. Whatever shit he’d picked up was persistent; persistent and fucking annoying.

“Yes, Chef,” Matt said, giving his boss a pointed look. Greyson meant to return the look, but instead sunk down below their prep station to cough into his sleeve. From the ground, he heard Matt sigh – then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a bottle of cough syrup in his sous’ hand. Without thinking, Greyson snatched it and chugged.

“Chef,” Matt said, quietly, “we’re all set here. Just waiting on people to arrive – why don’t you go have a cigarette or something?”

The last thing Greyson wanted with this bitch of a cough was a cigarette, but he nodded anyway; he knew Matt. He knew what he meant was go outside and collect yourself, you’re in for a long night.

“Thanks,” Greyson muttered, standing. “I’ll be back ind ten.”

“Take your time,” Matt insisted.

Greyson stumbled out of the building, clutching his chef’s coat close to his body; he’d left his jacket in the car, but he desperately needed some air. Fortunately or unfortunately, he’d already caught his death; no need to worry about the cold infecting him further.

Whether it was luck or just the fact that it was too cold for anyone else to dare venture outside, he couldn’t be sure, but either way he was glad to see that no one else was in the courtyard when he pushed through the heavy banquet doors. Greyson sat heavily on a bench arms wrapped around his middle, and took a few deep breaths. On second thought, he found himself thinking, maybe a cigarette does sound nice.

The chef pulled his pack and lighter out of his jeans and brought the cigarette to his mouth with a shaking hand. It took a few clicks to light it; once it was finally lit, he only got one good pull before he heard the door open noisily behind him.

“Are you seriously smoking?”

Elijah.

Greyson turned around, sluggish, and gave his boss a coy you-caught-me smile. “Addiction’s a hell of a thigg,” he said, turning to cough once again. “You wandt one?”

Elijah sighed, clearly thinking twice, but ultimately nodded and sat next to Greyson. The chef handed him the pack and the lighter.

“If you wandt it today, trust mbe you don’t wandt mbe lighting it,” Greyson joked, holding up a shaking hand as proof. Elijah bit his cheek, then slid out of his heavy outer coat and placed it over Greyson’s shoulders. Greyson went to protest, but Elijah held up his hand.

“You need it,” he said, taking the lighter and producing a flame immediately. “Just as much as you don’t need that,” he pointed to the stick between his friend’s fingers, but didn’t go to grab it.

“Yeah,” Greyson said, “you’re probably right.”

They sat in an awkward silence after that, punctuated only by Greyson’s coughs and sniffles; a game of chicken neither of them seemed keen on losing. Finally, Elijah finished his cigarette and stomped it out beneath his foot. He stood, and turned to regard Greyson.

“Thank you,” he said, holding out a hand. Greyson gave his boss a look, then took his hand and allowed the other man to pull him to his feet.

“Dond’t mbention it,” Greyson said, sniffling. He tried to hold the eye contact Elijah was giving him, but his nose seemed to have other plans. “Huh! HuhhhETSHHZUE!” Greyson sneezed, hard, into the sleeve of Elijah’s coat, then groaned when he realized what he’d done.

“Bless,” Elijah said, apparently unfazed by the coat’s untimely demise. Greyson nodded, wiped his nose on the back of his hand, and sniffled. “Grey, I’m -”

“Please dond’t say it,” Greyson said, holding a hand up. “Please. I’mb the boy who cried wolf, y’kndow? Instant karma. I did this to mbyself.” He rubbed a tired eye, attempted a light cough, then dissolved into a full-on coughing fit.

“Christ, Greyson,” Elijah said, patting the chef on the back. “That sounds fucking awful.”

“Weird,” Greyson said once he’d composed himself. “Because it honestly feel ambazigg.”

“Seriously?”

“Ndo. Ndo, I feel like I’mb going to keel over at any second.”

Elijah couldn’t help it; he burst out laughing. Greyson laughed, too; tension broken. They caught each other’s eyes, and burst out laughing once again; friends once more.

“I’m sorry you’re sick,” Elijah said. “And I’m sorry about this event. You’re right; these people suck ass.”

“Mbost people do,” Greyson said, chuckling. “I’mb sorry for being such a dick about this dinner, though. And forgetting. And pretending to be sick.”

“And then actually getting sick,” Elijah finished for him. Greyson smiled.

“And that,” he said. Elijah shrugged, gave a short little laugh.

“Very typical ‘us’,” he said, looking through the window into the banquet hall. Greyson nodded.

“Yeah,” he agreed, sighing. “You ready to get this shit over with?”

Elijah smiled. “Yes, Chef,” he said. Greyson laughed, which dissolved once more into a crackly cough. “Then let’s get you to bed.”

Greyson nodded, a hand pressed into one of his aching eyes. “Boss,” he said, “You read mby mbind.”

The two men headed back inside and took their places. It certainly wasn’t the first time they’d do an event with one of them on the brink of death, and it certainly wouldn’t be the last; that was the way of this industry. Greyson sucked down some more cold medicine, Elijah fixed the table settings, and Matt gleaned that all had somehow been forgiven and visibly relaxed. Just another night. The show must go on.

[sisterspooky1013]

Gaslight, Chapter 29/48

Rated X | Read it here on AO3

Scully taps her foot nervously against the steel floor of the van, her twisted up hands fidgeting in her lap. While knowing that she’s about to get the answers she’s sought for months is exciting, the awareness that some of the information may be upsetting weighs heavy on her mind. 

She glances over at Mulder, who has been stoic since they got the call from Langly. He’s unreadable, staring vacantly out the window with his hands folded loosely in his lap. She’s almost more excited for him to learn the truth than she is for herself—once he knows without a doubt that Diana is not the person he believes her to be, maybe his heart will open back up to her. 

When they pull into the garage at the Gunmen’s, Scully immediately flings the door of the van open and heads inside. Mulder trails leisurely behind her, taking a seat in the armchair and crossing his ankle over his knee while she practically charges Byers, who is seated at one of the many computers in the room.

“What do you know?” she asks as her eyes land on stacks and stacks of paper arranged neatly on the surface of a folding table. 

“It’s a lot of information, Agent Scully,” Byers says calmly as he moves to stand between her and the table. “I’m afraid it may be a bit overwhelming for you to absorb all at once.”

“Please, John,” she says severely, meeting his serene blue eyes. “I can’t take not knowing any longer.”

“Why don’t you have a seat,” he suggests, gesturing towards the couch. “I’ll give you a synopsis of sorts before you get into the details. Would that be all right?”

Scully nods and sits on the end of the couch nearest Mulder. He’s chewing on his thumbnail and watching it all unfold, though he hasn’t spoken a word. Byers sits down near her, giving Frohike and Langly a significant look as the two men pull up dining room chairs on the other side of the coffee table. 

“The database we were able to access contains thousands of files. The bulk of the information stored referenced the two of you,” he says with a nod to Mulder, “but there were also files for each of your family members and friends, including the three of us.”

“What kind of information?” Scully asks. She glances at Mulder, but his thousand yard stare gives the impression that he isn’t even listening. 

“It’s extremely thorough,” Byers says carefully. “There’s an accounting of every major event in your lives up until about 1994, at which point the level of detail increases substantially.” He pauses and looks at Frohike.

“What?” Scully asks urgently, her eyes flitting between the two men. 

“You were abducted in fall of ‘94,” Frohike says with a pained expression. “You were missing for weeks. It’s pretty clear that you were closely monitored after you were returned. Both of you.”

Again she looks at Mulder, but he keeps his eyes on the coffee table. 

“Abducted?” she asks, looking back to Frohike. “By whom? And what do you mean by ‘returned’?”

“We never really knew for sure,” Langly pipes in. “You just showed up at the hospital one day. Nobody saw you being dropped off.”

Scully takes a moment to absorb this. The information doesn’t jog any memories for her, which she finds unsettling. It’s one thing to be told, but it’s quite another to remember. 

“What else?” she asks, looking at Byers. 

“Shortly after your return, you found a small metal chip in your neck. An implant,” he says, and she reflexively touches the back of her neck. 

“I knew it was there?” she asks absently. 

“You removed it,” he clarifies. “But when you were later diagnosed with a difficult to treat form of cancer, it was re-implanted in an attempt to save your life. A successful attempt, I should add.”

It takes a few seconds for the information to sink in. When it does, she looks up at Byers with wide, fear-stricken eyes. 

“Am I going to get cancer again?” she asks. 

“I’m not sure,” he admits. 

She has the thought that if she had the implant with her, she could potentially put it back. But just as soon as the thought enters her mind, she dismisses it. She’ll never be free as long as one of those things is in her neck. They’d always be able to find her. 

“I want to see it,” she says abruptly. “The file, I want to read it. All of it.”

“Of course,” Byers says as he stands. “Take as much time as you need to look it over. Mulder, would you like to see yours as well?”

They all turn to Mulder, who has slowly slumped down in his chair to the point that he now looks like a petulant teenager. 

“Mulder?” she says, and his eyes slowly lift until he’s looking at her face. “Would you like to read your file?”

He sits up a little and clears his throat. 

“You go ahead. I’ll look at mine later,” he says casually, and she narrows her eyes at him. 

“You don’t want to know?” she asks, incredulous. “How could you not?”

Again, he clears his throat and shifts in his seat. 

“It’s a little overwhelming, to be perfectly honest,” he tells her in a soft voice that is clearly meant only for her ears, though the Gunmen can undoubtedly hear him. “I think I’d just like to know what yours says first, if that’s okay.”

He suddenly looks so vulnerable, and it catches her off guard. Maybe before they stole her memory from her, she’d have recognized it sooner. He’s afraid. 

“Yeah, that’s okay,” she says, managing a placating smile. “There’s probably some overlap anyway.”

He nods, and she sees gratitude in his eyes. 

“Everything on this table is yours,” Langly tells her, gesturing to a table large enough to comfortably seat six people. “I’d start from the left and work your way right.”

“Okay,” she says, then swallows. 

She picks up the first stack on the left and turns it over. Her stomach immediately clenches and her mouth goes dry, but she carries it over to the couch and lays it out in front of her on the coffee table. She looks at Mulder, and he holds her eye and nods in encouragement. Fortified, she turns to the first page. 

Continue Reading on AO3

Tagging @today-in-fic

[cillianate]

dancin' round the kitchen, in the refrigerator light.

(gif is not mine, credit to owner!!!)

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

warnings: smoking (don't smoke, say no to drugs kids!!), nightmares, slight nudity, a mention of cancer, mentions of torture, mentions of murd3r, pretty much everything winter soldier.

summary: bucky wakes up in the middle of the night after a nightmare and aches to hold his girlfriend.

content type: blurb, one-shot

The bright red text on the digital clock read- 2:37 AM. Bucky sat up panting, his chest gleamed with sweat. As he breathed heavily, he became suddenly aware of the non-existent mellow breathing that would usually calm him down in a time like this. You weren't there. As he patted around the bed looking for you, he became increasingly worried.

Just as he got out of the bed to rummage the apartment for you, a cough comes from your balcony. Realization crossed over him. He padded his way over, donning only blue and white checkered boxers.

There you were, sitting on the railing of the balcony that over looked Brooklyn, a cigarette lodged between your index and middle finger. Your body was covered in goosebumps, made more prominent by your lack of clothing. Only your underwear and Bucky's 'The Smiths, Hatful of Hollow' T-Shirt covered your figure.

"Doll," he said, his voice coming out frailer than he had intended, "why are you up?"

"Buck. Sorry, did I wake you?" You had said, immediately putting out your cigarette.

"No its fine. I just had a nightmare. Woke up and you were gone." He calmed you. He strode to you slowly, planting his hands on your hips once he reached you.

"Oh, i'm so sorry, babe. Do you want to talk about it?" You apologized, gladly embracing him when he folded his head into your neck. The scruf he had grown over the last few months ticked your soft skin, making you let out a soft breath.

"No, it's fine. Same as usual, y'know? I get tortured, I kill someone. Whatever. Just wanted to hold you." He spoke, his deep voice rang through your body.

"It's not nothing, James. But I won't pester you. I'm here now for all of your holding needs." You responded. His eyes now looked into yours as he had separated his head from your neck.

He brought your foreheads together and said, "You should quit, those things are cancer machines."

"I know." And that was that. It was a conversation that had been brought up before, but the idea had always been that, an idea.

There, in the crisp fall air, Bucky held you for what felt like hours. The cold left both you long ago, the others body heat warming their counterpart plenty. The pair of you swayed back and forth as a silent oath of "I have you, and we'll be alright."

"We should head inside, just because I can't get sick doesn't mean I want you getting pneumonia." He said as he grabbed your rosy hand.

"But Buck, i'm not tired." You whined, as he all but dragged you back into the loft apartment.

"Well I didn't say we had to sleep, now did I, doll?" He said smugly, that smirk you'd come to know so well stretching over his tan face.

Bucky let go of your hand as he flicked on the small stereo that had found its place on your counter many months ago.

The soft lullaby of 'Graceland Too' by Phoebe Bridgers graced your ears, being the last song you had listened to from yours and Bucky's mix tape.

Bucky grabbed your waist softly, pulling you into his chest. You wrapped your arms gracefully around his neck as he swayed you slightly to the music.

For the next hour, you and Bucky danced around in the kitchen illuminated by the refrigerator light. Your serene moment soundtrack to songs you adored such as: All I Need To Hear by The 1975, False God by Taylor Swift, and Smoke Signals by Phoebe Bridgers. And though Bucky refused to admit he listened to anything other than Louis Armstrong, he silently loved them too.

Actually, he loved everything you loved. He loved you. He would shout it from any rooftop without being asked. You were his lifeline. The moment he met you, he promised himself he'd do anything to be able to hold you. Now that he could, he wouldn't be silent about it. And he wasn't.

"I love you." He whispered into your hair as he lulled you into relaxation.

"I love you too, Buck."

[lumilasi]

UPDATE; Forgot Ava's fae tail. Also decided to add some shading because why not?

I've always wanted to make one of these but rarely have patience for it. I decided to try and tackle it today, and in this case I decided to only focus on what I consider as the "main" characters of NCP.

There are plenty of highly important side characters, but that would be its own set I reckon. Maybe I make that later? That set would have wayy more ladies too, I was kinda disappointed how the "main" group ended up only having 2 lol, albeit the 2 are hugely important.

Curse my eternal struggles with designing women

Also tried to kinda show the difference in the body-types that I've imagined for them, but....I'm not that good with it yet, so the differences with these 8 aren't that big OTL

(Note; Hitomi, the little girl at the end, belongs to my friend @mad-hatter-rici)

Brief intro of each character below for those unfamiliar:

Jurou Alistair Araknos: The Protagonist protagonist, a single dad Soul Eater tattooist, who recently found out he has a half-human daughter from a previous relationship. He's already been raising 2 adoptive sons, but a daughter is a whole different situation... especially given she's partially human.

Caelan Delune Araknos: Jurou's first adoptive son, a sea serpent who he took in after he lost his family & Caelan's adult cousin was unable to take care of him due to mental troubles. Despite not being a Soul Eater, his family embraces him fully as one of their own.

Claude Faylune: A tiger-butterfly fae from a once well-known swordsman family. He works in Jurou's tattoo parlor and is also dating his oldest son, Caelan. While he's got a temper, he's a very trusted friend and coworker.

Avane Faydream/Ava Mantis: A mantis fairy, Claude's coworker. The daughter of an influential Council member/head of a special secret agency called The Shadowless. She knows her dad too well, and does not always agree with his tactics, often getting secretly involved to steer things into a better direction. Knows her father is keeping an eye on Jurou due to his power, and does her best to make sure her boss won't get in trouble with the Council.

Roman "Lupo" Bosco: A Grimmhound and a former mobster, he was rescued from his forced servitude by Ava and Jurou, latter whom removed his cursed tattoo on his neck, that kept him from escaping his abusive/obsessive boss. Now works in Shinji's cafe and is Ava's loving boyfriend/often acts as a guardian/protector for the two youngest kids of Jurou when he's unavailable.

Shinji Yoma: A Dream-eater and an uncle of Avane, he is much more knowledgeable about things than he let's on, as intelligent and cunning as his older brother Kenzo (Ava's father), but notably more kindhearted. Runs a cafe next to Jurou's tattoo parlor and is his current love interest. Often works together with Ava to keep Jurou from getting in trouble.

Ichirou Araknos: Jurou's nephew/adoptive younger son. He is small for his teen age, due to being born prematurely. His mother died of Soul Eater equivalent of cancer, and his abusive father was devoured by her secretly some years before her death. Ichirou is a Soul Eater like his uncle, but also has puppeteer powers inherited from her puppeteer demon father.

Hitomi Araknos: Jurou's half-human daughter. Her mother Saeko had a relationship with him years ago that they mutually broke off due to him feeling he was too dangerous for her; he hadn't been aware she was pregnant at the time, and only found out once Hitomi used her mother's summoning amulet to call him there, as a group of magic obsessed zealots were trying to harness her powers for their purposes. Saeko sadly died during this attack, but Hitomi was saved, and now lives with her father.

[777astrology]

Things about the Signs i made up

Aries Eros have angry arched eyebrows that give off a sexual allure, almost like sexuality competitiveness. Aries rule the brain, may have brain issues such as head posture and may portray their eyebrows at an angle that makes them seem very arched. Maybe accompanied with Large foreheads and Youthful glow.

Aries Eris generation love being chaotic on social media but eventually tune out.

Taurus Moons can be very lazy if they dont get the appropriate time of beauty sleep. It's not even a physical tiredness, its all being emotional stubborn and being angry about sleep. They may have neck discomfort when sleeping. They have loose control over their throat and have low self esteem about singing.

Gemini Lilith will sleep with your partner and act like nothing happened, like Barbra jean on Reba. If they use their hands for friendly physical intimacy, they want to get deeper into your life. They like to hold things for comedic or emotional relief.

Cancer Midheaven have alot of trauma notoriety but people seek them for nurturing, ego boosting. If a Cancer doesnt play the mother role, things around them will go bad. Their breast tend to be on the flabby side and the nipples different colored.

Virgo Suns have Bigger egos than Leo, they take everything so personal and will hold a grudge for months just because you hurt their pride and self worth. They wont let it go until you apologize with a useful or meaningful gift, Very Materialistic, its part of a routine spell.

Virgo Venus are cursed with sensitive digestion. They appreciate friends who carry hand sanitizer or their meal of the day is ruined. In love, they will literally prioritize odor and scents, they will try to hide anything thats natural with fruity or savory scents, they have a delicious image to maintain. They believe they are what they eat.

Libra Risings cannot be trusted with secrets. They have an honesty that seeks improvement but alot of it is also manipulation and spite. Libra risings are very cheeky and lippy. Cameras and Mirrors distort their self perception and rely on physical eyes to tell them the honest truth. They have perky butts with wide hips.

Scorpio Mars are very sexual freaks who just want to be spanked and choked 3 times a week. At first they are nasty, but then the rush dies down, and seeks emotional intimacy instead. They have very perceptive eyes that can easily bring up flaws and start arguments just for the sake of bullying. They prefer natural hairiness and are open to the feminism take on acceptance of female body hair.

Scorpio Pluto generation are glued to devices. They need to have a screen eating in the morning. At work or during school. in the afternoon, and right before bedtime. Later generations are on to this bad habit and are trying to devoid themselves from it. These people love information, especially underground knowledge. This generation was full of liars and snitches, these people are not afraid to start a stab or stab back, you cannot tame a scorpion.

Sagittarius Jupiter are always sacrificing their time or funds on other people who seem very desperate. They have a higher voice always telling them do whats generous. They can have a hard time accepting help or handouts from others. They tend to have toned or slender thighs that make them appear taller than they really are.

Capricorn Uranus generation love to rock and roll with sex and drugs but may face mental problems later on. They usually have really shiney hair with a halo effect and they like medium length finger nails. Men may be rebellious about their fingernails when little. This generation is high into changing their looks like contours and toners, they get tired of seeing the same old dead look. This generation is also very acne/wrinkle/age self conscious and skin health aware.

Capricorn Neptune generation have weird sleeping patterns if they can't give up coffee. They love white noise especially fans. These individuals have a high expectation for winter because they love sleeping in the cold. They have a fond for spices, fungi and herbs that help them calm their body and mind. This generation praying routine significantly drops when the next one started.

Pisces Saturn are very strict because they dont know what they are doing. They will always over achieve and never feel good enough. They doubt their healing skills but know its somewhere in them, they just like to avoid it or anything mystical for the fear of becoming delusional and homeless. These native's feet may have sexual reactions such as toe curling like a lip bite. This specific sign is known for having frequent nightmares as they later progress in life and are advised to meditate on blessings and protections.

[neko-naruto]

Misconceptions

Summary: Kyle is only distantly aware he's chosen the worst time to confess

Warnings: swearing, mentions of various deaths, check Ao3 port for full tags

Authors Note: I wrote this to get myself through some idea drought, but Kenny being an oblivious and jealous prick is honestly fun to write, it may happen again. this is basically me shoving another scene into the manbearpig episode by the way, so keep that in mind while reading. hope ya'll enjoy!

Kenny's breathing starts to stutter with the cold, he's too far into sleep to wake up and shuffle around a bit too try and get warm. Kyle can hear it, it's shockingly hard to fall asleep on the cold ground while trapped in a cave system. He feels perfectly fine heat wise, passed out next to Stan and using his jacket as a blanket.

Kyle doesn't know what he's supposed to do. On one hand, he lets Kenny freeze to death or go terribly ill. On the other hand, he wakes up Kenny and hopes that the blonde doesn't get pissed off.

He opts for waking up Kenny.

His entire body feels clunky when he stretches, hands over his head and interlaced fingers pushing out. He tugs on his jacket lazily as he stumbles over to where Kenny's passed out on the ground. Kyle crouches down next too him and places a hand on the blondes face. His skin is flush with the bite of the cold, and he feels 'warm' but he isn't.

"Hey, dude," Kyle begins with as he shakes Kenny's shoulders gently, it barely rouses the blonde. All he gets is a small groan of dissatisfaction and the slightest shift in facial expression.

Kyle brings his fingers to loosen Kenny's parka hood but stops himself, he needs the heat to be in, not out. Instead he slides his fingers along Kenny's neck, ice cold fingers sure to jolt him awake. It does garner a reaction, not much.

Kyle talks again, "Wake up man, you're gonna freeze to death."

Kenny blinks open his eyes and glares at Kyle, "I've died worse- heard of worse ways," He quickly corrects himself.

"I know," Kyle said softly, so lightly, making sure Kenny didn't hear. It was his secret, and even though Kyle remembers a good deal of the deaths, he acts like he doesn't. He's not sure if he's lying for Kenny's sake or for his own.

"I'm fine freezing to death," Kenny said as he closed his eyes and rolled onto his side, facing away, "Go back to your boyfriend."

Kyle's face flares up at the accusation, "He's not my boyfriend," He takes Kenny's arm and rolls him back over, "I don't even like him."

Kenny rolled his eyes, "Sure you don't, you just happen to always be with him, always listen to him, always give him attention, always be on your fucking mind- of course he's your boyfriend!" The restraint he enforces to not shout makes him shake, he should've gotten this out in the open a long time ago. But no, he had too wait until the four of them were trapped in the mines before it could come out, "Leave me to die, that's what you guys always do."

"I don't," Kyle said.

Kenny scoffed, "Sure."

"Remember when you were dying of cancer, or whatever, your body was giving out on you?" Kyle asked.

Kenny nodded, "Everyone remembers that."

"Or what about all those other times? Electrocuted, trampled, burned, drowned, mutilated- I remember some of those," Kyle said, "I just, didn't want to freak you out by bringing it up."

"Big whoop," Kenny spat venomously, "You remember most of my terrible fates, so does Cartman. I don't see how that relates to you not being Stan's shitty boyfriend," He hopes that the jealously of his misguided anger is heavily covered.

"Stan doesn't remember half as many, Craig doesn't remember any, and Tweek doesn't remember any. Just me, and Cartman," Kyle said, going off on a loosely built tangent. He was grasping for straws, but he needed an exit into the more important topic of debate, "Because we care about you more than anyone else in all of South Park."

Kenny gestured vaguely for Kyle to go on, a challenge of sorts, maybe it was a plea.

"He cares about you because you indulge in his terrible ideas and hang out with him outside of the group. You're his best friend, we all are, but you more than the rest of us," Kyle explained, gesturing to Cartman as he spoke, "And I remember because," He pauses, words catching in his throat, "I, I remember."

"Spit it out," Kenny snarled, glaring just a bit. It was a facade really, he'd never speak maliciously to Kyle and mean it.

"And I remember all of you deaths because I fucking, I am in love, with you," Kyle managed to choke out, barely at that. He feels like the knots in his chest are tightening, but the burdens on his shoulders have finally been lifted. It's a rather conflicting feeling, to have the brunt of it all out in the open despite knowing it won't be reciprocated.

Kenny is pleased with the fact he can say the reason his face is red is because of the cold. He feels his heart rate pick up, he's pretty sure it's pulsing with irregularities- ha, that's kind of funny, Kyle made his heart skip a beat. Literally at that, the metaphor always came in handy for his journals. He bangs his fist on his chest, right where his heart is, rattling up his rib cage. He glances up to Kyle, "Really man?"

Kyle can't help the exasperation saturated so thickly on his voice it's dripping as he snaps back a sharp, "Yes, really! Of course I do!"

He also can't help the squeak that's pushed out of him when arms wind around his torso and squeeze. Kenny's head is resting on his shoulder, nestled up against the crook of his neck. Kyle doesn't know what he's supposed to do, especially with the way Kenny is shaking, tears hitting his jacket and his skin. It takes a bit too long for him to realize that this is a way of saying 'I love you too' but the second he does he's yanking Kenny into himself just as tight. He knocks the side of his head against Kenny's gently as he hauls the blonde almost onto his lap.

"Fuck man," There's a small sniffle as Kenny tries to lift his head, he can't get more than a couple inches of distance between him and Kyle and it feels nice. He dares to say it feels right, resting half on Kyle's thighs with arms wrapped around him so tightly he almost fears dislocating a rib. He takes a shaky inhale, "I just, did you have to wait until now to say it?"

Kyle knocked his forehead against Kenny's, very brief moment of contact greets them, when he pulls back he's almost shocked that Kenny's hands are at his waist. Almost. He rests his head on Kenny's shoulder, "I thought you were into the chicks."

"I take whatever comes my way," Kenny said, he spoke as though it were humorous, "Of course, I am prone to getting attached and waiting for something better to come around."

Kyle listens, giving a small hum to continue.

"But I got really lucky tonight, aside from the fact we're trapped in a cave system. Not only am I sitting on the lap of someone absolutely magnificent, smart, adorable, and dare I say it, hot. That someone also happens to be the long time target of my affection," Kenny rambled. The words flowed like wine, and he's entirely trying to flirt despite the situation. He brings a hand up to run through Kyle's mess of curls, "Of course, lower class courtship methods usually aren't seen as such by the middle class."

Kyle gives a soft sigh, "Cut me some slack, I just finished coming to terms with this shit," He lifts his head up to find that charming gap tooth grin, definitely one of his favorite things about Kenny. He's had a hard time choosing favorite things about Kenny lately, he adds it to the list.

"Gladly," Kenny answered with, briefly pressing a kiss to Kyle's cheek. He glanced over the redhead's shoulder, "Let's sleep over there."

"Beside Stan?" Kyle asked, he got a nod in response.

"I don't want him getting hypothermia," Kenny said, "Not a fun way to die."

Kyle gives a hum before standing up, awkwardly hoisting Kenny along with him. He knows that the shorter is grinning for the brief walk over to where Stan lays. Kyle sheds his jacket to lay down and Kenny joins him, pressing his back flush against Kyle's torso.

Kenny tilts his head back a bit, "Love you," He's saying it until the novelty wears off at this rate.

Kyle hums in response, "Go to sleep."

"Okay," Kenny said, voice a bit more hushed as he closed his eyes and tried to relax.

It's a lot easier to fall asleep when someone else is there with you. The rhythmic clamber of his heartbeat is welcome to echo in Kenny's ears as he drifts off to sleep comfortably. Even with the cold nipping at his feet he finds it rather soothing to just fall asleep. He's out cold before Stan actually rouses from his slumber, flipping over a bit.

"Go back to sleep," Kyle croaked out softly.

Stan pushed himself onto his elbows and glanced over to find Kenny curled up against Kyle, "You told him?"

Kyle nodded.

"He said yes?" Stan asked.

Kyle nodded, "Here's hoping we make it out of here alive to go on a date."

"In the afterlife I'll third wheel for you, even if we make it out I'll be sitting there being a nuisance," Stan said as he dropped back down. His pressed his back against Kyle before throwing his jacket atop the both of them.

"Thanks," Kyle said quietly, "You're fucking awesome man."

Stan yawns a bit, "No problem bro, that's what friends are for."

[thegodthief]

"If you want to be accepted in our ranks, purge the uncleanliness from you."

I did not ask for this tribunal, this trial. I was seized in the middle of the night and pushed into a spectacle of a courtroom. On the other side of the circular room were curved benches raised high above the floor. The lights over them were such that I could see the judges' clothing and hands. But everything from the neck up was washed out by the bright lights shining over each chair.

"What of me, is unclean?"

I had a hint of the answer. It had lodged itself in my chest. Not enough to restrict breathing, but enough for me to know it's there. But from the outside, there was no tell that it was even there at all and the strength of my voice did not suffer for it.

"She is unworthy. Why do we waste our time on her?"

"So that those who haven't learned her obstinacy will learn from her downfall."

A murmur of agreement condemned me. I did not know why I was before this court... again... but here I am before this goddamn court of public opinion again.

"Please, honored persons, allow me to rephrase my question." I bowed with gentle formality. "Why are we playing a game I never asked to join?"

I straightened, turned around with an absence of civility and strode towards the lower exit of the courtroom. As I approached it, the very woodwork that lined the room creaked and groaned as it expanded to seal the door.

Even the seam was smoothed into an etching in old wood as I reached to touch what was now unblemished wall. The mass in my chest squirmed to match my annoyance. As least we were in agreement. This is fucking bullshit.

"What you bear... is not something that can be permitted to exist without control or authority. Neither of which is a trait that you have cared to engender."

I turned to face the judges again. Some were in business suits, and some were in casual clothes. Some were in clothes that spoke to their ethnicity and some were in clothes that spoke to their faiths. Some were in ritual robes and some were in clothes so plain, I wondered how their more elaborate peers suffered them. The judge in the center of the arc kept changing appearance, however. I realized what they wore was dependent on whom I looked at before glancing back to them. They always appeared compatible, yet superior, to each of the others individually.

"What you bear," that central judge intoned, "is unclean. Perhaps another who had been trained in that work could control it without harming themselves or others. Perhaps another who had been brought up in the proper environment and culture could gain homeostasis with it without harming themselves or others. But in you, it is a cancer. It will devour you. That you are aware of it and what possible role it could have played in your life had you been properly raised is enough information for you to become a danger to others."

They clasped their well-manicured hands together. "Purge it. Here in this space that has been created for you. Purge it, and then you will be granted an instructor from those with whom you would be compatible."

The mass shifted in my chest and I suddenly had to cough. It expanded to block much of my lungs and I had to fight the sudden bodily panic that came from it. No. We have had this discussion already. If you're going to have a chance in hell of getting what you want, you have to let me do what I do as I do it. Stand down.

The mass shrunk, allowing me to straighten and take in deep droughts of air. "I think..." I took another deep breath more to keep my rage under control than any physical part of me. "I think that was demonstration enough that homeostasis has been achieved. They're not trying to drown me and I'm not panicking because they're there. Everything else now is between us."

Hidden in the sour wave of disapproval that wafted from the bench were bright citrusy notes of agreement. A hand raised and I turned my head to track that movement. I looked up just in time to watch delicate fingers make a snapping motion that burst sound into the chamber.

The mass in my chest reacted to the nonverbal command by filling my lungs entirely to the point where my throat audibly gurgled. I fell to my knees as something like blackstrap molasses trickled out of my gagging mouth. The mass seemed to be fighting with itself, as I felt portions pulling into smaller nodules while other portions expanded to take the yielded space. Either way, I couldn't breathe and I fell forward onto my hands in near panic.

"As long as no one challenges you, child, you have an accord with them. But to those who know them as well as the sea knows the tide, they are your undoing. They will overwhelm you and devour you. You will become their puppet until there is nothing left of you to feed them, and then you will join them, and they will be that much more dangerous to anyone else that they will now have a reach into because of your carelessness."

The aged voice was as hard as it was worn. "Or. You can take advantage of the space we have created for you. We cannot take them from you, but you can purge them from yourself."

I mostly ignored her monologue, focusing most my attention within while gripping the floor. The mass was quite riled up and angry for some reason. Peace. Be at peace. She is goading you. They mostly ignored me to the same degree as I was mostly ignoring the speaking judge and stretched to fill my lungs even further.

Fine.

I knew that I was "dreaming". I knew that I did not need to breathe no matter how physical I was feeling everything at the moment. I knew that despite the dream, I could not control the environment, but I damn sure wasn't going to yield control over myself.

So I stopped breathing.

I let the mass fill my lungs completely, which it did to the point where tendrils of it hung out of my mouth like ribbons of tar.

I remained on the my hands and knees on the black tile floor and kept my attention turned inward. There. You have the space you wanted. What the fuck got into you that made you so angry?

Without words or images or any method that could be transcribed, they told me that when she snapped her fingers, that wasn't a command, but a condemnation. They had rose up in indignation not because she called them forth, but because she had just tried to put them down. It had been the woman's attempt to banish them and break me, and instead of allowing her to discard the collective that we have become, they had expanded to shore me up from within and make me uncrushable.

Ya know, I think getting fucking pissed as hell is a right proper response to that.

Very well. Then let us reach into each other and speak as one.

The tendrils receded into my mouth, into my throat, and the mass withdrew just enough to permit me to move enough air to speak. As they did, I lifted myself and sat on my heels on the tile floor. I knew my knees would not like this position for long, but it would hold long enough for our opinion to be aired.

My vision in the dream narrowed and suddenly I was outside of myself, watching myself. But all I could see was the lower half of my face, my throat, and my hands that had been raised to my chest.

"Unclean? Unclean. You call us unclean now, but we weren't unclean when you called us up before you became so pure and white and bitter and jealous." I could see my tongue was coated in something very black, very oily, and very slick. I was thankful I could not taste it. "When you fed us names to devour like giving bones to a dog, we were not unclean then."

My hands wrenched themselves with anger. My throat strained to keep from screaming. "We wanted food and you gave us offal! We wanted light and you shut us away! We wanted to be remembered and you forced yourself to forget us!"

The voice was so angry that I wanted to console them. In response, one of my hands pulled away from the gripping other and started to slide down my neck as if to smooth out the tension.

"Unclean. You call us unclean now. Because you have become so beloved among the living that you can't let anyone know how close to becoming one of us you were. We served you and you forgot us."

"AT WHAT TIME DID YOU SERVE ME! I EXIST TO PUT DEMONS LIKE YOU DOWN! MY PATH IS THE PATH OF LIGHT AND TRUTH! I DO NOT WALLOW IN GRAVES!" The judge's rebuttal was accompanied by a wave of heat and light that made my body turn away slightly, at first.

"You do not wallow in graves? You forgot then. You have forgotten completely." The voice started laughing and ribbons of tar snaked out of my mouth. "The grave you sealed under your feet will reopen. And all that you have buried there will come out. And those parts of you that you buried will come back. And when it does, we will not be there to bite it. We will not be there to chew the names or the bones or the offal or the bitterness that gathers in the cracks of your teeth."

The voice was no longer harsh and bitter. Both hands held my throat gently. "Listen, [friend], she has forgotten us but we remember her. You, who have [done as we have asked of you] has done more for us within your fear than she has in the years she kept us captive. We have asked of you a little thing, well within your means, and you have given it to us. We had asked of her something well within her means, and she would not give it to us in full. No one must know that she knows us, or she would lose everything she has gained. And now she sits in judgement of you, [friend]? Let her come down here and judge us, herself. Let that which is righteous stand and that which is deceptive be undone by the light of truth."

The voice stopped speaking through my mouth, which is good, because the last phrase caught all the stray threads of my attention and pulled them tight enough to make me afraid. I had heard that before, uttered as an act of war and a promise of destruction. I knew they were pulling on my knowledge of language to transform their feelings into legible speech, but to speak that phrase in such a way terrified me just the same.

This is how you call down angels.

And I was not sure if being confronted by angels in this state would be good for me, for them, or for any spectator in the audience.

"[Kerian] is not of your house, sister. To hold her by your rules is unfair. [Kerian] is not of any house, and it is because of that, that she is in the state that she is in now." A calm voice from the other end of the judges' arc rang out. The tones sounded as clean and as clear as a sun-warmed lemon tastes. "We all know well your opinion of such spirits as are speaking through her now, but as she is not oathed to your path, she is free to engage with any spirit willing to engage with her. If anything, we have collectively committed a sin against her."

"A SIN AGAINST A FILTH-EATER?!" What was supposed to be a vicious slur against me felt more like an acknowledgement of my fundamental self.

"A sin against someone who has survived, is surviving, an environment that is trying to devour her, intentionally or not. Look at her. Look at them. One year ago, this would have ended very badly for her. And now? They are possessing her as water within a cistern and both contents and container are at peace."

Let me speak for myself. At my request, the mass withdrew from my mouth and throat. As they receded into a invisible knot in my chest, my awareness and control was pulled back into my body in their departing wake. A polite cough and an assertive deep breath later, I was back to myself.

I could not see which of the judges had been speaking on my behalf. The lights above them were brighter and drowned out nearly every evidence of their presence.

"Filth-eater, eh? Maybe I am. Unclean? Oh, absolutely. Sangre Sucia and all. And my advocate is correct, a year ago... fuck... six months ago... this would have ended so very badly. But it's not a year ago, and it's not six months ago, and I've been... working on rediscovering what I am. I am so many, many different things, and yet I am only the thing that I am."

I tried to peer through the veils of light and only saw light spots for my trouble. "You reacted poorly to me because I reminded you of your past. Don't bother trying to argue otherwise, I'm sure several of your peers recognized what you just tried to do and what it would take to develop those skills in the first place. Stay in your high chair and continue to talk shit about someone who will likely forget you ever existed the moment I wake up."

I looked towards where I heard my advocate's voice. "Do I want a teacher? A flesh-and-blood teacher to help me catch up? Oh, fuck yes! Would anyone be interested in a strung-out old bitch like me, likely not. I will always be just another culturally insensitive American trying to buy a crumb of faith, and I will never be accepted into any established house that can see through that because of how many graveyards I have had to dig through to survive."

I felt the mass turning in and over itself in my chest. Tighter and tighter it twisted itself until it felt more like a bruise than an obstruction. I rubbed the skin over my breastbone. My fingertips felt nothing but my senses felt their presence. "To abide by what they wanted of me, to give them what they seek, means I have to take care of myself. I am the cistern now, and I am the container that holds them. I cannot throw them away anymore than I can throw away myself."

I looked up one last time to the silent arc of judges. "You told me to purge that which is unclean of me, so that I may be found worthy in your eyes, and be granted an instructor to teach me in the ways that have been withheld from me."

"You told me a bunch of bullshit."

"None of you can teach me how to be a person, how to live. The most the best of you can teach me is how to obey. What contract are you willing to sign with me that doesn't involve breaking away that which you do not like? How many of my pieces are going to be sealed and buried in another forgotten pot?"

My knees signaled that I was indeed, getting too old for this shit. So I stood and patted the wrinkles out of my clothes and the dust off my legs and hands.

"I have taken your little test and have found it wanting. Am I free to go? Or do I pull other memories out of my ass and go off?"

A silent wave of bitter disapproval once more descended from the arc. But in its wake, were more bright and sharp citrus notes of mirth and acceptance than before.

"If you leave as you are, you will never be recognized or accepted by those you know as your betters. But, you are free to go if that is the condemnation you wish for yourself."

I nodded in acceptance of the judgement. "Then my task is not only to continue to better myself, but to seek out better betters. I will find those who create joy in spite of their circumstances, and I will let them goad me into creating my own. I tire of waiting for help into the pool. I will now dig it at my feet."

I did not wait for a door to be created into the sealed woodwork of the room. I decided that this dream would come to an end, and so it did.