#i need to make this joke or i’ll simply expire

[danandfuckingjonlmao]

luigi mangione, 12/04/24

diversity win! im bisexual and im going to kill you!

[holidayinhell]

Whumpay: Operating Table

Will post one excerpt per theme bc I simply do not have The Time!!

Characters: sadistic Whumper and coward Whumpee. TWs: nonsexual nudity, extreme fear, restraints, male whump, implied organ harvesting

Whumpee found himself at a loss as the metal door creaked open.

The cold tiled room held only one powerful light, its brilliance bounced across a gleaming metallic surface positioned in the center of the room. As a whole it was empty, containing only one chair, a cooler box, and two rolling cabinets on either side of the operating table.

“No... no way.” 

The captor's gloved, heavy hands rested on both of Whumpee’s shoulders. 

“Are you surprised?” Whumper said almost directly into Whumpee's ear. He cocked an eyebrow. “You know how this works.”

The words rang in Whumpee’s ears. Of course he knew. Whumpee was all too familiar with the chop shop he’d been detained in for the past few weeks. He had suffered countless sleepless nights filled with the shrieks and pleas of the misfortunate souls who’d been sacrificed to the Operating Room.

But Whumpee had lasted longer than any of the other captives ever had. They had an expiration date of maybe two weeks maximum, whereas he’d been held here for over four months. And while he didn’t understand the exact reason he was treated so well, he never questioned it, and was always pleasant to the man who had decided to keep him around so long. Whumpee got along well with Whumper.

“Are you- what is this?” Whumpee asked incredulously.

“Ah. You’re kidding around, huh?” He turned to face the larger man behind him. He feigned a weak smile.

“No.”

His smile dropped and his palms became sticky with sweat. He knew what happened in this room. Well, he didn’t know exactly, but he knew the people Whumper ushered in never came out. 

But then again, Whumper also had a playful side—playful in a kind of horrible, sadistic way— this could be his version of a joke. Yes, surely this was just a cruel joke.

“…what is this?

“This is exactly what it looks like.”

“You’re messing with me.”

“You still think so?” Whumper half smiled.

“Ha-ha.” Whumpee said weakly.  His heart was pounding in his ears. “For a second there you had me.”

“Haven’t had you yet. Soon, though.”

The captive froze. He could feel the hungry gaze of Whumper's eyes locked on him, studying his every tremor of fear with cold fascination. Whumpee's head fell, confidence shattered.

“Not this.”  He half-whispered to the tiles on the ground. “Not like this. Please.”

He stole a glance back at Whumper to see if making a run for it was a viable option. It wasn’t. 

Sensing the his urge to flee, Whumper side-stepped to block the entryway.

“Don’t even think about it,” he warned.

Whumpee’s knees gave out and he crumbled forward. There was no escaping this.

“I can’t, I can’t. I can’t do it.. Please. Please!” he wailed. “I’ll do anything! Anything anything…” Saliva strings fell from his gaping, moaning mouth, tears and mucus ran down his face.

“Well apparently not.”

“But-but, I’ve been good, I-I thought I was doing good, I don’t, I don’t— I don’t wanna die!”

“You have been good.” Whumper reassured him with a sigh. He stooped down to wipe the muck from Whumpee’s face off with the scratchy arm of his sleeve. “So keep it up, mkay?”

Sobs wrenched in Whumpee's throat, urging him to scream, but he swallowed hard, doing his best to suppress the sound, fearing it might enrage Whumper before he had the chance to reason with him. He knew crying wouldn’t help, and begging would only take him as far as Whumper allowed before caving his head in.

Whumpee couldn’t hold it back any longer. “You’re gonna, you’re gonna kill me aren’t you...” He let out a terrified shriek. “You’re going to kill me!”

“Oh, hell. Shut up. It’s not personal. Just part of the job, gotta keep bread on the table and all.”

“I can get you money!” The captive scrambled nervously, “I, I have a friend--a really rich, wealthy friend in the city— he’ll pay you however much you need. I know he will, I just need to get--”

“That’s good to know.” The larger man interrupted. Whumper roughly nudged the terrified man through the doorway, shoving him to the cold tile floor. “Come on, Whumpee.”

“Wait! Wait wait wait, wait a minute just wait--” He hyperventilated as he was urged forward. His heart was beating so fast he thought it might explode. He fell to his knees.

Whumper sighed, hooking the frantic man under the shoulder and launching him deeper into the room. He pulled the large iron door closed, secured the heavy latch, and pulled his black latex gloves up.

“D-do-don’t do this to m-m-me.”

Whumper sighed again. Begging grated his nerves more than anything. He’d listened to each of them recite the identical lines countless times, offering up drugs, money, sex— anything in exchange for their freedom. For some reason he’d hoped it would be different with Whumpee. He was such an obedient captive, and Whumper treated him like goddamned royalty. He thought he would approach the table and offer himself up willingly.

But no, Whumpee was performing an identical version of the same pleas for mercy as the rest of them. It was boring, and frankly, a little depressing.

“Stop it.” Whumper warned. “Get up.” 

The shivering man stood.

 “Take off your clothes.”

“Wh-wha? Why??”

“Aghhhh! Just take off your fuckin’ clothes!” Whumper sighed.

The boy shifted awkwardly on his feet, holding out hope that this sick routine was only a prelude to one of Whumper’s sick jokes. Surely this was the punchline. He’d already accomplished his goal of scaring the shit out of Whumpee. Surely it was over. Surely he’d end things here.

“Now.”

Whumpee’s fingers fumbled to find the hem of his filthy, formerly blue t-shirt, his arms weakly lifted the thin fabric over his head to reveal his ashen torso. It was the only barrier he had between his body and Whumper’s scalpel. The shirt fell to the floor.

Whumper took in the sight of Whumpee’s nearly perfect complexion. His skin was creamy white from the lack of sun exposure, pale folks were rare to stumble across in the desert wasteland. He was a slim man, athletic and lean, he bore no telltale signs of abuse. Whumper provided him with two mostly edible meals a day, clean clothes and the occasional hot shower.

“Go on. Take off all of it.”

The small man's cheeks burned with shame. Whumper’s hungry eyes shone with intrigue.

Whumpee laced his fingers around the elastic band of his pants clinging to his narrow hips. In one quick motion he dropped his pants and boxers down his legs, his hands swiftly rushed to cup his exposed genitals.

“How modest.” Whumper chuckled. Let him hide, Whumper thought. He’d have nothing to hide behind once he splayed his lean body across the table.

“Aight, now come here and open up.” Whumper produced a ball gag from his pocket.

Whumpee’s body quaked from a pang of terror so violent it threw his body off balance. A warm sensation trickled down the inside of his thigh.

Whumpee looked down at the pool of warmth he was standing in, and--fuck, oh fuck-- he’d pissed himself.

“For fuck’s sake, Whumpee. The hell is wrong with you today?!”

Wide-eyed and cowering, Whumpee collapsed to the floor and scrambled backwards. “I’msorryimsorryimso so sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry--!” He stammered frantically. “I didn’t mean--”

Whumper threw Whumpee’s discarded pants over the puddle of urine. Surprisingly, he tossed Whumpee’s shirt back to him. 

“Hush. Clean yourself off.”

He cleared his throat and a few heavy tear drops plopped on the fabric in his lap. “I am sorry. I-I didn’t mean to do that.” He almost managed to say it without his voice quavering. He wiped the inside of his legs down using the filthy shirt and threw it aside. A powerful wave of numbness began supplanting his overwhelming terror.

“It’s okay, I’ve seen a lot worse.” A crooked smile returned to Whumper’s face. “Get over here. Right fuckin’ now.”

Whumpee swallowed his pride. His fear. His will to live. And he faced his fate head on.

“Good. Climb on the table.” 

Whumpee got on the table.

Whumper secured his prey by locking his wrists and ankles to the operating table with a short length of chain. This was it. There was no going back now. Whumper looked down at Whumpee with ravenous eyes. He had him where he wanted him, after all of these months, finally.

He pulled on his surgical mask, rolled up his sleeves, and adjusted the light above his victim. A gloved index finger traced down the length of Whumpee’s bare body, imitating the blade's path. He truly had magnificent skin.

Before Whumper managed to make his first cut, his cellphone rang.

“You couldn’t have called at a worse time, you sonuvabitch. Call later. He’s on the table right now.” Whumper barked into the phone.

-Pause. Whumpee faintly heard the person on the line chuckle.-

“No shit? Who?”

-A longer pause.-

“I dunno. It sounds like one hell of a deal. Don't worry, this one's not goin' anywhere. Run it past the boss and get back to me. ”

-Pause-

"Heh, I should really kick your ass for this one," Whumper said wryly. "I've been nursing the best pair of virgin kidneys and liver you've ever fuckin' seen."

-Pause-

"Mhm. Roger that. Bye." Whumper tucked his phone in his pocket and pulled his surgical mask down.

“Whumpee. Your wealthy friend in the city--” 

Whumper rested the scalpel on Whumpee’s stomach.

“--is his name Caretaker?”

((more Whump oneshots))

[writingdotcoffee]

#218: The Best Writing App for NaNoWriMo

NaNoWriMo starts in just a week. One month, 50,000 words and a lot of caffeine. Several bestselling novels started as NaNo projects by unknown writers (well, not any more). This includes titles like Fangirl by Rainbow Rowell, The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern and Cinder, Scarlet and Cress by Marissa Meyer.

About 350,000 writers sign up every November to write a novel in 30 days. What fascinates me is that only about 40,000 writers complete the challenge. Why is that? What do those who make it have that others don’t? And how can we make that number higher? A lot higher.

Of course, writing is hard, but is it really something that only a fraction of people can do? I don’t buy that.

I believe that the writers who finish simply have the tools, habits and support they need to overcome resistance and get words on the page.

That’s why I built Writing Analytics — an editor that gives you the tools to get your words done and create a sustainable writing routine. If you’re doing NaNoWriMo this year, I believe it’s the best app to get you over the finish line.

Try Writing Analytics for FREE During NaNoWriMo

The best part is that Writing Analytics will be free to try from today through the whole of November. Use the link below to create an account that will be free to use until 4 December 2021:

Create Your Free Writing Analytics Account for NaNoWriMo

No hidden fees or gimmicks — you can always access your drafts and data even after your account has expired. You can also easily export all your drafts whenever you want.

While I can't afford to be an official NaNoWriMo sponsor yet (🤞 for next year!), I'd like to support writers in the small way I can. That brings me to my other point.

NaNoWriMo Winners Get 50% OFF Writing Analytics

Need some extra motivation to complete NaNoWriMo this year? If you write your novel in Writing Analytics and win NaNoWriMo, you'll get 50% off your subscription for a year!

Send your NaNoWriMo 2021 Winner's Certificate to nanowrimo@writinganalytics.co, and I'll sort you out!

How Writing Analytics Works?

So why is Writing Analytics the best editor for NaNoWriMo? It combines several productivity tools that successful writers use into a simple writing app that you can use on your laptop or phone.

While you write, the editor tracks a number of metrics behind the scenes. This includes how many words you write and delete, how long each writing session takes, how focused you are and how much time you spend typing.

You can set goals and track your progress across all your writing projects. You can share your dashboard with your friends. They'll be able to see your stats and you can keep each other accountable.

Writing Analytics also comes with a built-in habit tracker. You can build streaks and earn rewards for reaching important milestones on your writing journey.

Seven Days to Go!

NaNoWriMo is only a week away. I wish you the very best of luck if you're planning to participate this year!

It will be intense 30 days. Writing 1,666 words per day for a month is no joke. If you're a slow writer like me, it may even seem ridiculous, but I'd encourage you to think about it as an experiment — a way to try something new.

A novel in a month — the insanity of that goal may well be what breaks through the assumptions that you have about what you're capable of as a writer and becomes the defining moment of your career.

Remember, you don't have to publish your NaNo novel. You only have to finish it. At the very least, NaNoWriMo is a fantastic opportunity to write some garbage. Real garbage — stuff that you'll be too embarrassed to even read back.

That's how you get to writing the good stuff.

About the Author

Hi, I’m Radek 👋. I’m a writer, software engineer and the founder of Writing Analytics — an editor and writing tracker designed to help you beat writer’s block and create a sustainable writing routine.

I publish a post like this every week. Want to know when the next one comes out? Sign up for my email list below to get it right in your inbox.

SUBSCRIBE

(I won’t spam you or pass your email to a third party. You can unsubscribe at any time.)

Past Editions

#217: Don’t Save Your Best Ideas for Later, October 2021

#216: Take Back the Time to Write, October 2021

#215: Writing for the Right Reasons, October 2021

#214: It Doesn’t Count If You Don’t Finish It, September 2021

#213: How to Be a More Disciplined Writer, September 2021

[noir-drabbles]

Ayel 2

Summary: Ayel wasn’t always a competent servant.

(Had an essay to do yesterday and it required my full concentration.)

“What are doing?”

Your voice cut into Ayel’s thoughts, the plate of simply made food tumbled right out of his hands and onto the floor he worked so hard to clean. The plate broke, spelling Ayel’s doom after you so graciously let him stay here.

He didn’t want to make you angry. He can’t make you angry. Ayel got on his knees, sweeping his hands over the mess, not caring that he’s dirtying his clothes. He may not know how to clean elaborate silks and clothes but he can learn. He can use what little he as left to try and try again until he gets it right.

“I’m sorry,” he finally managed to unlock his jaw. Apologize. He needs to apologize more. He has to grovel if he has to. “I’m sorry, I was—”

Ayel nearly ripped his hair out of his scalp when it fell over his eyes. He didn’t have a tie or anything to hold it back. There’s food covering the ends because it won’t stay in place. Now he’s made a mess of himself because he can’t take care of anything.

Weak, incompetent, why do you exist?

Ayel cut his finger, but he didn’t feel any pain. He can’t, not with this static in his head.

You stepped forward, grabbing his shoulders to guide him to his feet. You gently enveloped his hand with a table napkin.

“Don’t worry,” you gripped his hand, “focus on resting. The mess will be cleared soon enough.”

“But—” But you had no servants. You lived here alone, with no one to take care of things that he knows are clearly beneath you.

Your fingers cupped his chin, lifting his gaze to yours. It doesn’t feel right to look directly at you and your calm eyes. You should be angry. You should be scolding him for being nothing more than a parasitic weight upon your fortune.

“We can practice tomorrow.”

Ayel was so stunned that he didn’t protest when you walked him from the kitchen.

“If you insist on acting like a servant, if you want to stay here with no intentions of ever returning to where you came from, then I’ll accept you with open arms.” You gave a chuckle, as though telling yourself an inside joke Ayel wasn’t knowledgeable of. “I have been told I needed more company.”

…

Ayel felt his shoulders let go of their tension, his back no longer anticipating punishment.

He can stay. You’re letting him stay here, with no expiration date to be found on your kindness.

Ayel bowed his head, unable to hold back a sniffle. “I’ll…I’ll be sure to take your teachings to heart.”

[coffee-with-genshin]

How about Albedo? Dense Albedo is best Albedo, flustered Albdeo is also best Albedo. Klee is also the best and only wingman Albedo will ever have.

Well hello, to make sense of the above text, I had Albedo brain rot.

Characters: Albedo, Klee, and our spunky reader

Pairings/ tropes: Big brother Albedo and our semi chaotic reader, I like family and Albdeo with Klee + the reader later if i write more of this that is is perfect for that.

Warnings: None

Title/part: The Tea Party of Today

a/n: Requests are open and the “rules” are in the blog description. Have a nice day.

“Hey! Get back here!” They bolted out of the knight’s headquarters, gripping their flight goggles. A few steps from the edge of that level’s platform they yanked the goggles down, opened their glider, and threw an anemo concoction down at the end of the pathway. The winds blew them high above the frustrated knights and they waved down at them before starting their escape. Soaring over Mondstadt and using rooftops as sidewalks, they make their way out of the city and across Cider Lake. They decided to land in the Whispering Woods, hopefully it would be the last place the knights looked. Unlike the last four times they had to make an escape, they didn’t want to be caught just yet. An experiment had gone drastically wrong, resulting in a large hole in the back of headquarters. It wasn’t as if they wanted to blow up headquarters, scratch that, they did want to blow up headquarters but this time was unintentional. 

They stowed their glider and pulled the goggles up. Looking into their belt pouch they counted the vials of elemental extract they had. All were accounted for save the Anemo one they used to get away. They sighed, ‘that was a relief.’ They didn’t need some careless and nosey knight to mess around and blow another hole in the building. Jean would already have their head if they were caught now, let alone if there were two messes linked to them. 

They wandered around the quiet woods for a bit, calculating how long it would take for the knights to give up. ‘Possibly at rest of the day and into the night,’ they reasoned. They ended up bumping into Klee, “ Oh, sorry. Didn’t see you there.” “It’s okay,” Klee beams. They return the smile and ask, “Klee, if you don’t mind… Don’t tell Miss Jean you saw me?” “Okay!” Klee chirps, “But only if you play with me.” Their smile grew wider as they replied, “Of course, Klee.” 

Klee pulls them along through the woods towards a clearing where they spot Albedo. “Albedo! Albedo! Look, look! Y/n showed up and is gonna play with us.” He looked up from his sketching, “Ah, hello Y/n. What brings you here?” “Well Klee of course,” they say. 

“No, that’s not wha--” 

“A joke, Albedo.”

“Ah….”

“I blew a hole in the wall.” Albedo sighs, “Again?” A sheepish grin paints their face, “Yeah.” Klee tugs their arm, “Come on, come on. Let’s play!” They let out a soft sigh with an equally soft smile, “Okay Klee, what do you want to play today?” Klee ponders for a moment, “Tea party!” and she rushes off to collect her props. Albedo watches Klee go before returning to his sketches, looking up every once in a while.They akwardy stand, not sure as to what to do. “I won’t tell Jean,” Albedo says, breaking the silent tension. Their faces warms as he continues, “ You don’t have to ask, it’s written all over your face. You shouldn’t worry about it either. I’ll fix it… Your experiment that is.” “A-ah, thanks,” they replied, “I was working on a Pyro-Anemo Swirl extract. Turns out I miscalculated the effects.” Albedo taps his pencil to his lips as he thinks over the experiment, “No, I think the fault was in the pyro extract. You used pyro slimes as your sourcing, yes?” They face-palmed, “I did. How stupid of me, I’m so dumb. They even explode when they expire. Why didn’t I think of that? You truly are brilliant Albedo.” A small smile graced Albedo’s face, and he looked down at his sketch again. 

They sat down on a stump to wait for Klee to come back. Not long after, Klee showed up holding twigs and leaves, “I got them!” Albedo, come play with us!” Albedo shook his head, “In a bit, I have just a little more to finish.” Klee frowned but then asked them to move off of her ‘table.’ Klee set the table with what was to be the finest of chin, creating a lovely tea table for the party to commence at. “Ah, the tea is simply delightful Klee! Did you make the tea?” they asked in between ‘sips.’ “Albedo taught me,” Klee explained. “Taught you what, Klee?” Albedo asks before kneeling down at the table to partake in the game. “How to make tea. Here, try some!” Klee pours him a cup of tea. Albedo picks up his cup and softly blows it before taking a sip, “I do believe that this is the best tea I’ve had.” Klee giggles and the party continues until the sun has started its descent.

“Klee, I think Y/n needs to needs to go home now,” Albedo gently says. “Aw, but we’re having so much fun,” Klee pouts. “It’ll also be time for you to go to bed soon, Klee,” Albedo chided quietly. “But Al~bedo,” Klee whines. “No buts Klee, you need your sleep.” “You don’t sleep….” Klee grumbles. They laugh, “Klee, we can always play tomorrow.” “Hm, okay then,” Klee says. Klee gets up and then holds their hand as the three head back towards Mondstadt. Klee looks as if she had an epiphany when she asks, “Hey, Y/n, do you know what know what Albedo was drawing?” “Nope, he hasn’t shown me yet, Klee. He doesn’t have to either, if he doesn’t want to.” Klee only shrugs and continues on, ��He was drawing our party! He does that every time you play with me.” Albedo’s eyes widen and cheeks dust pink, “I-I, yes, w-well.” They laugh again, “Show then, if it’s okay with you of course.” Albedo opens his sketchbook to reveal pages of them and Klee, backgrounds and all. But on a page labeled with the day's date, all that was drawn was portraits of them in stunning detail. Albedo’s cheeks continued to layer pink and he closed the book quickly. “They’re amazing Albedo! I’m honoured to be in your sketches.” Klee piped up, “Yeah, Albedo is super good at drawing.” They smiled, “Yes he is.” Albedo turned away and mumbled a ‘Thank you.’

The three reach the city gates and they start to say their farewell, “I’ll see you tomorrow. I’m going to stay out for the night, don’t want Jean to find me and all.” Klee nods sympathetically, “Bye! Come play with me soon!” Albedo raises a hand to wave, “Bye, Y/n….” Klee frowns, “He meant that he’ll miss you a lot and wants to hug you.” All they could do was laugh. “Klee!” Albedo exclaims in a shock. “Bye Y/n!” “Bye Klee, Bye Albedo.” They lean down and hug Klee and then straighten to give Albedo his. “I’ll take you up on your offer of a hug, Albedo,” they whisper in his ear with a radiant smile. They let go and leave for the Dawn Winery (surely Diluc won’t turn them into the useless knights) with a blushing and frozen Albedo, who floundering to grasp what happened, behind them.

[puddygeeks]

𝑾𝒂𝒓 𝑶𝒇 𝑯𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒔 - 𝑪𝒓𝒊𝒎𝒊𝒏𝒂𝒍 𝑴𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒔, 𝑺𝒑𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒆𝒓 𝑹𝒆𝒊𝒅 𝒙 𝑶𝑪 - 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 8: 𝑮𝒐𝒍𝒅𝒆𝒏 𝑶𝒑𝒑𝒐𝒓𝒕𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒕𝒚

Masterlist

Rating: Mature

Summary: 𝐴𝑙𝑖𝑐𝑒 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑖𝑚𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑑 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑛 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑖𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑖𝑟𝑒 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑝 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑢𝑙𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑛 𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑙𝑒𝑓𝑡 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑜𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠. 𝑊𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑢𝑝𝑝𝑜𝑟𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐵𝐴𝑈 𝑓𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑦, 𝑚𝑎𝑦𝑏𝑒 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑏𝑒𝑔𝑖𝑛 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑎𝑠𝑡.

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Spencer Reid x OC

Status: Ongoing

LONG TERM ONGOING PROJECT :)

My writing is entirely fuelled by coffee! If you enjoy my work, feel free to donate toward my caffeine dependency: will work for coffee

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: 𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑎𝑑𝑢𝑙𝑡 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡, 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑠 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑤. 𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑏𝑒 𝑎𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑑𝑜𝑒𝑠 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛 𝑐𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑐𝑎𝑠𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑢𝑟𝑑𝑒𝑟, 𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑑 𝑎𝑏𝑑𝑢𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 & 𝑠𝑒𝑥𝑢𝑎𝑙 𝑎𝑏𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑎𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑖𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐵𝐴𝑈'𝑠 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘. 𝐼𝑡 𝑖𝑠 𝑚𝑦 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑙𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑠𝑒 𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑢𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑠 𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑓𝑢𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑎𝑠 𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑏𝑙𝑒, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑖𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑏𝑒 𝑖𝑚𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑑 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑠𝑒 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑎𝑔𝑒𝑑, 𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑙𝑒𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤.

Eᴘɪsᴏᴅᴇ: Pʀᴇ Sᴇᴀsᴏ�� 1

Chapter Eight

“You know, it’s remarkably similar to Brighton Pier here.” I commented, fanning myself in desperation under the scolding sun and Ricky pushed his large sunglasses down to allow me to feel the full force of his judgement. “Well, except that it’s unmistakably hotter, obviously.”

“How dare you compare this beautiful sandy bliss to your pebble filled nightmare?” He remarked with a sweeping hand gesture at the beach, before sipping out of his straw with offence and I rolled my eyes at him.

Ricky has always been a force to be reckoned with, but as he got older, he only grew more confident and I was constantly inspired by how comfortable he was in himself. His thick brunette hair reached his collarbones now, but he currently had it pushed back out of his face with a colourful bandana so that he could tan. In order for him to worship the sun to his full capacity, he was wearing a worryingly small pair of shorts and had stretched himself across a lounger like the diva that he absolutely was.

“Hmm. Your actual beach is better, I’ll give you that one. But you’re seriously lacking on drag queens, quirky cafes and fancy boutiques to shop in.” I pointed out, fondly recalling the whirlwind weekend that we’d spent in the British city the last time that he’d visited me and he shrugged in defeat.

“Touché. You win this round.” He admitted, laying back to bask himself again, whilst I shuffled my sensitive skin further under the sun umbrella that he’d reluctantly agreed to allow me to bring over on the condition that it didn’t cause a single shred of shade over him.

It was a beautiful day, only improved by the quality of my company and I had to admit that I was endlessly pleased to have decided to extend my stay for another few days. Despite the years that had passed since we had last been in each other's physical company, Ricky was still able to put me at ease in a way that no one else had ever been able to emulate and I cherished the opportunity to simply relax with him at the Virginia Boardwalk.

“So, what’s it like being an FBI agent?” Ricky asked, turning his attention back to me with a smug expression. “Is it wonderful knowing that you have the power to stop anyone in their tracks? I would absolutely abuse my power for evil, but I know you’re too pure for that.” He muttered with delight and I chuckled at him knowingly. The things that he would use an FBI badge to accomplish didn’t even bear thinking about.

“Darling. I already told you. I’m not an FBI agent. I’m still a technical analyst for Interpol. I’m just on loan.” I repeated, already losing count of how many times I had made this distinction, but he still seemed as unconvinced by this as he was the first time that I told him.

“Oh, semantics! Sounds to me like you’re working for them and considering that you saved a girl from a burning building like a freaking hero, I’m just going to treat you like one.” He argued, seeming amused as if I were simply downplaying things, when realistically, it was a case of him dramatising the arrangement, as he did with most things. “We have an FBI agent in the family. That’s pretty cool.”

“There is absolutely no reasoning with you.” I groaned, shaking my head in embarrassment and he shrugged dismissively, as if this were an obvious fact that I should have accepted already. “How’s university going? Have you sorted your accommodation for your second year yet?”

“College is going fine. I’ve done a fantastic job being the life of the party, so I have plenty of offers for people to live with. My only struggle is choosing people who aren’t completely filthy as housemates. I can’t live in a grubbly little student hovel.” He explained, seeming repulsed by the very idea and I raised a brow at his diva attitude. “Don’t look at me like that. I’m not being dramatic. My first year in dorms, I shared a bathroom with straight men. You don’t understand the trauma that I’ve lived through.”

“Does your mother know that you haven’t arranged housing yet?” I interrogated, already sensing a hint of dishonesty in him and his features quickly contorted into a guilty look. “Rituparan! I understand being picky, but you’ll end up with no choice other than to live with the grimy jocks if you don’t hurry up. You need to get organised.” I scolded, earning an eye roll so severe that I worried his face might never recover from the strain.

“Don’t get your panties in a twist, Alley Cat. I’ll get it sorted. Now, drink your mocktail before it gets too diluted.” He ordered, sipping down the last of his drink and placing the little umbrella from the top in his hair with a flourish. The moment that he faced me, I knew that he had mischief in mind.

“Okay. Are you ready? Who am I?” He pouted so dramatically that his cheeks all but disappeared and I almost choked on my drink.

“Oh, too easy! That is the unforgettable Lola, the only woman on the planet who considers a cocktail umbrella the perfect hair accessory for any occasion.” I answered, earning a cheer and wicked laugh of satisfaction from him. “You know, I love having someone else to mock dad’s exes with. You’d think the fact that he only dates women my age would mean we’d have something in common, but alas, apparently a sense of humour isn’t shared by age group.”

“Of course they’re not funny! The only thing those girls come with is a price tag.” He sassed, flipping his hair back out of his face in a ridiculously bitchy gesture and I was immediately reminded of just how much I loved him. “At least you don’t have to pretend to like Tanya anymore. Honestly, if she had a second brain cell, she’d be dangerous.”

“Oh, no! They broke up?” I gasped, almost sounding convincing with my upset and he whipped his head around with drastic confusion. “I guess she had to bleed my dad dry of pocket money eventually.” I drawled, prompting a small yelp of surprise and a quick high five from Ricky.

Tanya had been dating my dad for just over six months now, so I knew that she was likely to be approaching her expiration date soon. His routine was well known amongst the entire family now and in an effort to counter the embarrassment that it caused for my mother and I, it had become a running joke for us all to share.

“Didn’t you hear the details?” Ricky crooned, turning to face me fully on his lounger with a devious expression and I shrugged nonchalantly. “According to Maji, she tried to charge her lip fillers to his business credit card. Caused all sorts of uproar at the office. I guess she’ll be making that duck face at someone else’s wallet now.” He divulged, pouting into an exaggerated model face for effect and I struggled not to splutter my drink everywhere in response.

Ricky’s mother always seemed to know everything that was happening in our family and I’d long believed that this was where he’d learned to dig information out of people. She was abnormally gifted in guilt tripping the truth out of even the most hardened family members and yet, she doted on Ricky as if he was the very thing that made her world turn. If I ever wanted to know what was going on in my dad’s life, I knew that I could rely on her to be up to date with events.

Before I could manage to recover enough to speak, my mobile rang with it’s sharp tone and I had to clamber around in my bag to find it. As soon as I saw the private number, my eyes grew wide in dread.

“Oh, no! The bat phone?” Ricky asked, seeming genuinely horrified that I might be called into work and I quickly nodded, before holding a finger to my lips to shush him.

“Agent Hawthorne.” I answered, feeling utterly ridiculous referring to myself this way in my current company. This insecurity was only made worse by Ricky sliding his shades back on in a judgemental manner and I gestured to him to stop distracting me.

“Alice. This is Hotch. Are you still in Virginia?”

The voice on the other end of the phone was as serious as ever and though I was enormously relieved to find that it wasn’t anyone from Interpol trying to order me home, I felt nerves building in my chest already.

“Yes, Sir. I am.” I reported, noticing Ricky raising his brows at me in interest and I knew that he was dying to know what was being said.

“I realise that you’re spending time with family, but would you be able to come into the office for a meeting? I have a matter that I would like to discuss with you in person, if possible.” Hotch requested, allowing me absolutely no hint of the cause for this meeting and I felt my face change into one of alarm.

My mind had already begun racing with all of the possible complications that I could be facing for my actions at the base now that all of the documentation for the case had been submitted and I was terrified that if any further charges were brought against me, they could contradict the deal that I made with Interpol to avoid imprisonment.

“Yes, Sir. I’ll come in right away.” I stuttered, attempting to fight down my terror. My hands shook with nerves as I hung up on the call and Ricky looked positively thrilled to have been given the opportunity to witness this conversation, as if he’d just been personally included in a matter of national security.

“It’s a good thing that you went for virgin cocktails, my dear. I have to get back to Quantico.” I confessed, quickly burying my nerves so that he wouldn’t sense trouble.

“Oh my god! This is so exciting!” He announced, hopping straight to his feet and flustering to grab his belongings that were spread across every surface around him. “One cab for Agent Hawthorne, coming right up!”

--⥈--

Outfit: https://www.pinterest.co.uk/pin/460070918191621506/

Standing in the lift of the Quantico building, I was overwhelmed with anxiety. I had been in such a rush to get here that it hadn’t even crossed my mind to change clothes, or to do anything to prepare my appearance at all. Though I knew that I didn’t have any more office clothes with me anyway, I acknowledged that I could at least have found something that provided a little more coverage and didn’t leave me feeling so exposed.

The idea of walking through an office where everyone was dressed smartly, wearing a white floral mini dress was an absolute nightmare and I realised that I only had a few minutes to make any changes. All I could think to do was to untie my waist length hair, shaking it out to at least cover some of my arms and attempting to make it look styled.

The doors opened to reveal a full office, with most of the team present at their desks and I gulped nervously. My dress felt as if it had actually shrunk in size since the beach now that I would be seen in it by people that I had worked with and I had to remind myself that I had bigger things to worry about with being called to come here than my attire.

JJ’s heels clicked on the polished floor as she entered the reception, her professional appearance clashing horribly with the casual style of my low top converses and I tried not to feel intimidated.

“Alice! I know that I said we wanted to see you again soon, but this is a little crazy.” She breezed as she approached me with a warm smile and I tried to force myself to relax. “Hotch is just finishing a call and he’ll be out to meet you.” She explained, before her gaze fell onto my outfit and I felt myself physically become stiff under her scrutiny. “You look pretty!”

“Oh, thanks. I was just on the beach. I’ve already worn all of my work clothes so, um, this is all I have?” I offered, shifting awkwardly and she smiled sympathetically at me.

“We’ve all been called in at unexpected times. I was literally collected from home in my pajamas once. You’ve got nothing to worry about.” She soothed, leaning closer to me as she spoke so that no one would overhear my concern and I let out a long breath in relief.

“Besides, I know that Hotch is just going to appreciate you being able to come in at such short notice. I hope you got to enjoy at least a little bit of your time off before we intruded?” She asked with an honest concern in her eyes and just as I opened my mouth to see if she could give me even the slightest hint of what to expect, Hotch stepped into the room.

“Alice. Thank you for coming so quickly.” He stated in his usual serious manner, reaching straight to shake my hand and I complied immediately, forcing a smile through my nerves. “I’ll try not to take up too much of your time. Let’s talk in my office.” He offered, opening the glass doors to the main office for me and I stepped through hesitantly.

Within approximately two steps of entering the space, I could already feel eyes on me and tried not to allow myself to be unnerved by the attention. The anxious voice in the back of my mind screamed that I was the most inappropriate looking member of staff to ever enter this office, but I forced myself to keep my head held high as Ricky had always preached.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that Spencer was watching me from his desk as if he’d been stopped in his tracks and I waved subtly at him, prompting him to hurriedly do the same back in a fluster. Morgan passed Hotch distractedly, before he noticed that I was following him with obvious surprise.

“Looking good, Poppins. Welcome back.” He muttered as he squeezed beside me, sneaking a charming smile and thanks to the combined warmth of the two men, once again I felt my nerves beginning to settle slightly.

Hotch encouraged me to take a seat in his office, before closing the door behind us and I felt as if I couldn’t think straight in the silence that followed. He settled into the seat opposite me, knitting his hands together on the desk between us and despite feeling before that I had reached the point where I could understand his expressions, his face at this moment was completely unreadable.

“For a start, I want to discuss what happened at the Twenty Nine Palms base.” He opened, his stern eyes studying my face for every minute reaction and though my heart sank at the suggested topic, I nodded back calmly.

“Whilst it can’t be denied that your actions resulted in saving a young girl's life, they were also unacceptably reckless. You demonstrated absolutely no regard for your own safety and jeopardised the reputation of the whole team. You are aware that we appreciate your support, but I’m not convinced that you realise we are legally and morally responsible for your wellbeing whilst you are under our service and that I would be personally held accountable for your death as a result of your irresponsible actions.” He lectured, his voice sounding even more severe than it had when I was in the ambulance and I felt my confidence crumbling with every word that he spoke.

It became clear that he had paused his speech to allow me the chance to explain myself and I cleared my throat to speak with a feeling of terror.

“I’m truly sorry for my actions, Sir. You are entirely right. I was reckless and selfish, and I didn’t consider how my behaviour would reflect on your team, and especially on you. I’m not going to make excuses. I just want you to know that I accept any and all consequences that you feel are appropriate.” I answered calmly, ensuring that I kept my tone calm and respectful, and he sighed as he studied me.

“I didn’t call you in here to punish you, Alice. This is a conversation, not a lecture. What I aim to understand is why an agent with no field experience, or any personal stake in the case, felt that they had no choice other than to risk their own life to save a child who they’d never met?” He clarified, his entire demeanour remaining unchanged even as he moved to a gentler tactic of questioning and I chewed on my lip.

It took a few moments for me to consider how best to answer this, but eventually I decided that I respected this team as a whole too much to lie. I prepared myself for a conversation that I knew would likely change his opinion of me permanently, but assured myself that honesty was a necessity at this point.

“When I was fifteen years old, my mother was abducted.” I began, glancing down at my hands as I spoke to avoid the intensity of his gaze. “It took four months for her to be found and when she came home, she was a different person. I never saw the mother that went missing again.” I paused, clearing my throat to keep the emotion from my voice before continuing.

“Three years later, a girl at my university went missing. She wasn’t the first, but the stakes were high as all of the others had been found murdered. I obsessed over everything that my mother had survived to come home and I couldn’t imagine how awful it would be to endure that at just eighteen years old. So, I began looking into the case and after a while of digging, I compiled enough information to anonymously assist law enforcement in safely recovering the missing girl. I realised then that I had the skills to make a difference to the world and I kept going, one missing person at a time, until Interpol found me.”

“You were given a choice between conviction, or working for them?” Hotch asked knowingly, as if he’d seen this very situation many times before and I recalled the recent conversation that I’d had with Penelope about hackers frequently being recruited through their questionable activities. I nodded slowly in response, deciding that this wasn’t the time to divulge any further information about the circumstances of my hiring.

“I didn’t join this field by choice. It was never the plan for my life. Don’t get me wrong, I always wanted to help people. I actually trained to become a psychiatrist, like my dad, but a job like this had never even been on my radar. Yet, here I am.” I explained, shrugging awkwardly as I realised that this sounded like I was ungrateful for the mercy that I was shown and I tried to be more careful with my wording when I spoke again.

“When I was standing in front of that building, watching the smoke pour out of it, all I could think about was how my mother told me that she spent every minute of every day that she was in captivity praying to come home. I could just imagine Amanda doing the same thing, hoping with everything she had that someone would save her and I was right there.” I stopped as frustration seeped into my voice, allowing myself to regain control so that I could resume my explanation.

“I knew that there was a chance that she was still alive and I felt like everything that had happened, all of the crazy unplanned situations that had led me to being there at that exact time were so that I could save her. It sounds insane, but it was like my legs moved before I had even decided what I was going to do. For the first time in my career, I trusted my team, this team to have my back and with all due respect, Sir, it was the right thing to do.” I finally finished my rant, forcing myself to meet his eyes to allow him to see my sincerity and I was shocked to find that his face was filled with understanding, causing me to realise that he was already filling in the blanks between my words.

“You said that this was the first time that you felt this way about your team. You shouldn’t be working with people that you can’t rely on. In our line of work, we are forced to face horrors that most people can’t even begin to imagine. The people around you should be your anchor in the storm.” Hotch advised, causing my eyes to become watery and I sniffed back my emotions, desperate not to cry in front of him. “You have options, Alice.”

“What options? Prison?” I scoffed, recalling my conversation with Shepard with a flinch.

Though I had thought in detail about leaving Interpol many times since my recruitment, I knew in a serious light that it was merely a fantasy and nothing more. Without my employment to them, I was considered as nothing more than a threat to security and returning to normal civilian life was no longer something that I could consider.

“Join our team.” Hotch offered, causing my mouth to drop open in shock and I noticed the corners of his lips twitch slightly upward at my reaction.

“It’s clear that you are neither happy, nor valued at Interpol. You have already proven the difference that you could make across multiple cases and the entire team have agreed that you make an excellent addition.” He elaborated, listing reasons that I struggled to even associate with myself and I couldn’t seem to form a response, as I stuttered in the silence.

“But, I-Sir, we just discussed how I jeopardised this team. I don’t mean to seem rude, or ungrateful because I absolutely am not, but I fail to see how I’ve given you the impression that I would make a suitable field agent. You already have Penelope for technical support, so I’m not sure what else you could need me for here.” I pointed out, hardly able to wrap my head around the sudden detour that this conversation had taken and found myself baffled at the very concept of him offering to employ me.

“When your team brought you for the Valeno case, you showed potential that they were purposefully dismissive of. After you left, Gideon suggested that I speak to you about a position within the BAU. Unfortunately, at the time we didn’t have the available resources to do this. Due to the recent successes of this team, we’ve been granted the budget to expand and I would be foolish to ignore a candidate who has already contributed to that success. You are a good fit and the first choice of every member in this unit.” He presented, completely disregarding my concerns and when I looked at him with confusion, he sighed.

“I have discussed the recent incident with Gideon and we share the opinion that with the correct mentoring and the support of a team that believes in your worth, you could be an exceptional field agent.” He divulged, causing me to raise my brows impossibly higher in surprise.

It was bizarre enough that Hotch wanted me to join the team, but finding out that Gideon had been the instigator for this offer blew what remained of my psyche to pieces and Hotch cleared his throat to regain my attention from my inner turmoil.

“The offer would, of course, be conditional. It would be based on your own commitment to overcoming your experiences. None of us are immune to personal biases and each of us have elements of our pasts that make certain cases more challenging for us than the others. However, we rely on each other to hold us accountable, and have all learned to be objective and to know our limits. If you think this is something that you can also undertake, then there is a place here for you. As long as you want it.” Hotch clarified, causing me to stare back at him in blatant disbelief.

“I-I honestly don’t know what to say.” I stuttered, fiddling with my hair anxiously and Hotch cracked a rare smile at me. “It isn’t as simple for me as just changing state. My life is in France now. I’ve already left my mum behind once in England. I’d also have to renounce my dual nationality and become an American citizen.” I thought aloud, considering the enormity of the decision before me and Hotch nodded in understanding.

“Can I have some time to think about it?” I asked nervously, unsure of what else to say and Hotch seemed completely unsurprised by my reaction, as if he’d actually been expecting it.

“Of course. It’s a serious decision that you aren’t expected to make right away. Take all of the time that you need.”

--⥈--

“Girl. Your life is crazy!” Ricky gasped, studying me with a fascinated expression and I had to laugh at his dramatic reaction, despite mostly agreeing with the sentiment. “You’re gonna say yes, right?”

I sighed deeply as I considered this question and the way that he considered me now revealed exactly how insane he thought I was for even needing to think about it. In order to avoid his prying eyes, I stood to start clearing away the takeaway boxes that littered my hotel room bed, but Ricky refused to be silenced.

“Alice. Honey. What are you doing?! Life at Interpol has been miserable for you since day one. You said it yourself. I can’t imagine anything there that could be worth turning this offer down for!” He scolded, staring at me in complete disbelief and I shook my head at his youthful attitude to things.

“It’s more complicated than that. I never planned to work in this sector at all, much less as an FBI agent!” I explained, still struggling to process the fact that this was even an option that was open to me. It felt as if it had come from nowhere and I was already overwhelmed with the mere concept of making such a serious life decision.

“This isn’t just a job that we’re talking about here. It’s a completely different life. I need to be sure that I can handle it, before I move away from everything that I know. I’d hardly ever get to see mum and Roger.” I clarified, struggling to make him understand the severity of the situation.

“You never visit your mama anyway! I should know. I overhear Maji talking to her about it enough.” He groaned, only causing me to feel even worse about the idea of moving even further away from her.

“Besides, if you took it then you’d be living right near me and there isn’t any better benefit than that!” He added, posing across the bed as if he were the most important factor in the proposal and I chuckled at him with fondness. He sighed at my lack of enthusiasm, before dropping to a more serious tone.

“The most important thing for all of us is your happiness. You’d be crazy to stay somewhere that is making your whole existence taste like bad Aloo Gobi. And you deserve better than that! You deserve for your life to always be like Maji’s cooking, full of love and happiness.” He described, seeming as if he’d distracted himself along the way and he glanced back down at his plastic container of curry with disdain.

“You realise that you have a gift for being able to relate literally anything to food, right?” I remarked playfully, observing him with amazement and he shrugged carelessly.

“Food is one of the most enjoyable things that sustains us. It’s important.” He argued passionately and I couldn’t think of a single point to dispute his statement with, having to allow him the pleasure of being correct. “Fortunately, Mumbai Gardens is able to provide an almost authentic experience, right here in the heart of Virginia. A good meal can heal many things, you know. Even the stress of your biggest ever life decision.”

“That’s high praise coming from you. Could it pass the home test though, do you think?” I queried with curiosity as I disposed of the remaining trash with the Mumbai Gardens logo on it and he scoffed as if I’d asked something utterly ridiculous.

“Not a chance! Even Mama would be able to tell you that it wasn’t completely correct. You know, she’s actually been with Maji long enough now to have better cooking taste than some of my other actual Indian friends.” He revealed, showing his love for his step mom, who happened to be my paternal aunt Heather, clear in his voice.

I couldn’t withhold a wide grin as I thought of my aunts, both filled with a warmth that radiated even in my memories. Heather and Ricky’s mum, Nabhitha, had been married for almost ten years now and were the main reason that I still had any faith in true love. They had done an admirable job of raising Ricky together, with Heather always treating him as if he was her biological son and I was endlessly proud of them. Thanks to them, Ricky had grown into the confident, funny teenager that I loved. Their blissful blended family gave me hope for my own future.

“I just had an idea.” Ricky breezed, sitting up particularly straight as if he could barely contain his enthusiasm and I turned back to face him with interest. “If you take this job, we could totally rent a place together! I could be your stylist extraordinaire, in-house councillor and professional Indian chef.” He suggested, his eyes gleaming with excitement and I scoffed loudly at the idea.

“Absolutely not. I’ve already got enough on my plate, without considering parenting you, Ricky.” I laughed, wincing at even the thought of dealing with his dramatics on a daily basis and he gasped at my refusal, seeming as if he could never have expected me to refuse his generous offer. “You can be as offended as you like, but I still don’t have the energy to deal with a college kid in my space. I’m not gonna be your easy way out of student housing. Pick some other teenagers to live with already.”

“Fine. I was offering you a lifestyle of sheer luxury, but I guess I’ll just have to take my fabulous self somewhere that I’ll be better appreciated.” He announced, acting as if he were hurt by my denial, before quickly softening back into a smile barely a few seconds later. “You should definitely think some more about taking the job though, queen. You deserve a fresh start.”

“We’ll see.” I conceded with a chuckle, desperate to simply end the conversation. “Now, which film do you want to rent?”

[halfbisexual]

Men Cause 100% of Unwanted Pregnancies

Our conversation about abortion places the burden of responsibility on women. I argue men are the root cause.

Gabrielle Blair

Sep 24, 2018·

As a mother of six and a Mormon, I have a good understanding of arguments surrounding abortion, religious and otherwise. When I hear men discussing women’s reproductive rights, I’m often left with the thought that they have zero interest in stopping abortion.

If you want to prevent abortion, you need to prevent unwanted pregnancies. Men seem unable (or unwilling) to admit that they cause 100% of them.

I realize that’s a bold statement. You’re likely thinking, “Wait. It takes two to tango!” While I fully agree with you in the case of intentional pregnancies, I argue that all unwanted pregnancies are caused by the irresponsible ejaculations of men. All of them.

Don’t believe me?

Let’s start with this: A woman’s egg is only fertile for about two days each month. Yes, there are exceptions, because nature. But one egg which is fertile two days each month is the baseline. And those fertile eggs are produced for a limited number of years. This means, on average, women are fertile for about 24 days per year.

But men are fertile 365 days a year. In fact, if you’re a man who ejaculates multiple times a day, you could cause multiple pregnancies daily. In theory, a man could cause 1000+ unwanted pregnancies in just one year. While it’s true that sperm gets crappier as men age, it doesn’t have a fertility expiration date; men can cause unwanted pregnancies from puberty until death. So, starting with basic fertility stats and the calendar, it’s easy to see that men are the issue here.

As a society, we really don’t mind if women suffer, physically or mentally, as long as it makes things easier for men.

“But what about birth control?” you might ask. “ If a woman can manage to figure out how to get an abortion, surely she can use birth control to avoid unwanted pregnancy, right?”

Great question. Modern birth control for women is possibly the most important invention of the last century, and I’m very grateful for it. It’s also brutal. The side effects for many women include migraines, mood swings, decreased libido, depression, severe cramps, heavy bleeding, aneurysm — and that’s just a small fraction of them.

Discouragingly, a promising study on a new male contraceptive was canceled in large part due to… (wait for it)… side effects. To be clear, this list of side effects was about one-third as long as the known side effects for commonly used women’s contraception. There’s a lot to unpack in that story alone. I’ll simply point out that, as a society, we really don’t mind if women suffer, physically or mentally, as long as it makes things easier for men.

But, men, I’ve got good news. Even with the horrible side effects, women are (amazingly!) very willing to use birth control. Unfortunately, it’s harder to get than it should be, but that doesn’t keep women from trying. Birth control options for women require a doctor’s appointment — sometimes multiple doctor’s appointments — and a prescription. They’re not always free, and often not cheap. Some are actually trying to make female birth control options more expensive by allowing insurance companies to refuse to cover them. In addition, contraceptive options for women can’t be easily acquired at the last minute. In most cases, they don’t work instantly.

The pill requires consistent daily use and doesn’t leave much room for mistakes, forgetfulness, or unexpected disruptions to daily schedules. Again, the side effects can be brutal — and not just in rare cases. Despite the hassle and side effects, I’m still grateful for birth control. (Please don’t take it away.) But it’s critical to understand that women’s birth control isn’t simple or easy.

In contrast, let’s look at birth control for men — i.e., condoms. They’re readily available at all hours, inexpensive, convenient, and don’t require a prescription. They’re effective and work on demand, instantly. They don’t cause aneurysms, mood swings, or debilitating cramps. Men can keep them stocked up just in case, so they’re always prepared. They can be easily used at the last minute. I mean, condoms are magic! So much easier than birth control options for women.

As a bonus, most women are totally on board with condoms. They keep us from getting STDs. They don’t lessen our pleasure during sex or prevent us from climaxing. The best part? Cleanup is so much easier — no waddling to the toilet as jizz drips down our legs.

So why would there ever be unwanted pregnancies? Why don’t men just use condoms every time they have sex? Seems so simple, right?

Oh. I remember. Men don’t love condoms. In fact, it’s very, very common for men to pressure women to have sex without a condom. It’s also not unheard of for men to remove the condom during sex without the women’s permission or knowledge. (Pro tip: That’s assault.)

Why would men want to have sex without a condom? Because, for the precious minutes when they’re penetrating their partner, not wearing a condom gives them more pleasure. So… that would mean some men are willing to risk getting a woman pregnant — which means literally risking her life, her health, her social status, her relationships, and her career — so they can experience a few minutes of slightly increased pleasure. Is this for real?

Yes. Yes, it is.

Pregnancies happen when men have an orgasm. Unwanted pregnancies happen when men orgasm irresponsibly.

Imagine a pleasure scale, with pain beginning at zero and going down into the negatives. A good back-scratch falls at 5, and an orgasm without a condom is a 10. Where would sex with a condom fall? A 7 or 8? So, it’s not that sex with a condom is not pleasurable, it’s just not as pleasurable. An 8 instead of a 10.

Let me emphasize that again: Men regularly choose to put women at massive risk in order to experience a few minutes of slightly increased pleasure.

For the truly condom-averse, men also have a non-condom, always-ready birth control option built right in: the pull-out. It doesn’t protect against STDs, it’s an easy joke, and it’s far from perfect. However, it’s 96% effective if done correctly, and 78% effective in practice (because it’s often not done correctly).

Still, many men who resist wearing condoms never learn how to pull out correctly. Apparently, it’s slightly more pleasurable to climax inside a vagina than, say, on their partner’s stomach. Once again, men are willing to risk the life, health, and well-being of women in order to experience a tiny bit more pleasure for roughly five seconds during orgasm.

Think of the choice men are making here. Honestly, I’m not as mad as I should be about this, because we’ve trained men from birth to disassociate sex and pregnancy. We’ve taught them that their pleasure is of utmost importance.

As a general rule, men get women pregnant by having an orgasm. Yes, there are exceptions — it’s possible for sperm to show up in pre-ejaculate — but in most cases, getting a woman pregnant is a pleasurable act for men. But men can get a woman pregnant without her feeling any pleasure at all. It’s even possible for a man to impregnate a woman while causing her excruciating pain, trauma, or horror.

In contrast, a woman can have nonstop orgasms with or without a partner and never once get herself pregnant. A woman’s orgasm has literally nothing to do with pregnancy or fertility — her clitoris exists simply for pleasure, not for creating new humans. No matter how many orgasms she has, they won’t make her pregnant.

Pregnancies happen when men have an orgasm. Unwanted pregnancies happen when men orgasm irresponsibly.

A woman can be the sluttiest slut in the entire world, she can love having orgasms all day and all night long, and she will never find herself with an unwanted pregnancy unless a man shows up and ejaculates irresponsibly. Though our society tends to villainize female pleasure, women’s enjoyment of sex does not equal unwanted pregnancy and abortion. Men’s enjoyment of sex and irresponsible ejaculations do.

Let’s move to the topic of responsibility. Often, men don’t know, don’t ask, and don’t think to ask if they’ve caused a pregnancy. There are often zero consequences for men who cause unwanted pregnancies.

If the woman decides to have an abortion, the man may never even know he caused an unwanted pregnancy with his irresponsible ejaculation. If the woman decides to have the baby, or put the baby up for adoption, the man may never know he caused an unwanted pregnancy with his irresponsible ejaculation either. He may never know there’s now a child walking around with 50% of his DNA.

If the woman does tell him he caused an unwanted pregnancy and that she’s having the baby, the closest thing to a consequence for him is child support. Our current child support system is a well-known joke. Only about 61 percent of required payments by men are actually made, and there are little to no repercussions for skipping out. In some states, failing to pay child support doesn’t even affect your credit.

If a man does pay child support, it doesn’t come close to what is required by a woman in the case of an unwanted pregnancy.

Let’s talk about abortion. When the topic comes up, men might think: Abortion is horrible; women should not have abortions. Never once do they consider the man who caused the unwanted pregnancy.

If you actually care about reducing or eliminating the number of abortions in our country, simply hold men accountable for their actions.

If we’re discussing abortion law — and not how to hold men accountable for irresponsible ejaculations, and the unwanted pregnancies caused by them — we’re wasting our time. Shift the conversation. Stop protesting at clinics. Stop shaming women. Stop debating whether or not to overturn abortion laws. If you actually care about reducing or eliminating the number of abortions in our country, simply hold men accountable for their actions.

What would that look like? A real and immediate consequence for men who cause an unwanted pregnancy. What kind of consequence would make sense? Should it be as harsh, painful, nauseating, scarring, expensive, risky, and life-altering…

… as forcing a woman to go through a nine-month unwanted pregnancy?

If you consider abortion to be murder, consider this thought experiment: Would you be on board with having a handful of men castrated to prevent 600,000 murders each year? If this argument sounds too provocative, could it be that many of us have a hard time wrapping our heads around a physical punishment for men? We seem to be more than fine with physical punishments for women. Perhaps we care more about policing women’s bodies, morality, and sexuality than we do about reducing or eliminating abortions.

Here’s another prevention idea: All males in the U.S. could get a vasectomy when they are ready to be sexually active. Vasectomies are very safe, highly reversible, and about as invasive as a woman getting an IUD implanted. In most cases, there’s some soreness afterwards for about 24 hours, but that’s pretty much it for side effects. (Take a moment to remember that female contraception options, used by millions of women in our country and billions across the world, have well-known side effects which can be brutal and severe — and yes, also include soreness.) If and when a man becomes a responsible adult, finds a mate, and wants to have a baby, the vasectomy can be reversed and then redone once the childbearing stage is over. Each man can bank their sperm before the vasectomy, just in case.

Don’t like my ideas? That’s fine. I’m sure there are better ideas, and I challenge you to suggest your own. My point is we need to stop focusing on women if we’re trying to get rid of abortions. Think of abortion as the “cure” for an unwanted pregnancy. To stop abortions, we need to prevent the “disease” — meaning, the unwanted pregnancy itself. And the only way to do that is by focusing on men, because irresponsible ejaculations by men cause 100% of unwanted pregnancy.

Ask yourselves: What would it take for you to value the life of your sexual partner more than your own temporary pleasure or convenience?

If you’re a man, what would it take for you to never again ejaculate irresponsibly? A loss of money, rights, or freedoms? Physical pain? Ask yourselves: What would it take for you to value the life of your sexual partner more than your own temporary pleasure or convenience?

Men mostly run our government, and men mostly make our laws. In theory, men could eliminate — or drastically reduce — abortions within months without ever touching an abortion law or even mentioning women. They’d simply need to hold men accountable for irresponsible ejaculations, and legislate accordingly.

To reduce or eliminate abortions, stop attempting to control women’s bodies and sexuality. Because unwanted pregnancies are caused by men.

[popculturebuffet]

Patreon Membership Drive: Turbo Championship Hyper Fighting Edition!

Hello all you happy people! For those wondering “who the hell is this.” I”m Jake Mattingly. I review animation and comics here on this tumblr 5 times a week, and love doing so. I do so by recapping an episode of an animated show or a volume of a comic piece by piece, how detailed depends on the work and how condensed it needs to be, analyzing the episode and sometimes throwing in some jokes because i’m a silly weirdo and tis my nature. 

 So far i’ve been able to scrape by with the help of my patreon’s kev and emma, with Kev suplimenting that iwth various comissions (I.e. paying me to review a specific episode of a show much like someone would comissoin). But I don’t want to place my entire finacial future in the hands of two people so last month I lauched my patreon membership, trying to get people to join my patreon to releive some of the pressure on them. And not a person signed on during the first month. 

But I realize a large part of that is I simply didn’t advertise propertly, not really explaning what it is I do, what they get, or throwing in any extra incentives for signing up apart from “If so many people pledge to my patreon i’ll do X review” Which is still the main thrust of my campaign but I realized I need MORE than that to give you all proper money for your buck, especailly with Tumblr trying to monteize in the most half assed way possible making people presumibly more wary of spending money on me. 

So for this promo i’m going into what it is I review exactly, how to sign up for my patreon and how any of that works, what you get out of it, and various juicy stretch goals i’m hoping ya’ll can help me reach so

WHAT IS IT YOU DO EXACTLY?

As I mentioned above I review animation and comics, more animation than comics. My meat and potatoes are Disney Duck works, primarily the 2017 reboot and the Don Rosa and Carl Barks comics. For the former i’ve done retrospectives on Lena’s arc, the Della storyline from season 2 and ALL the Season 2 storylines, the last one currently in progress. I intend to review the entire series, the lackluster tie in comics, and the this duckburg life podcast, though the last one has some strings attached we’ll get to under my goals.  I”ve also been reviewing various Carl Barks first apperances and most importantly doing a complete retrospective on Don Rosa’s masterwork the Life and Times of Scrooge McDuck. 

I also review certain shows week to week, almost entirely Disney as aside from the True Colors Debacle they have the most reliable schedule and announce release dates farther in advance than Cartoon Network and Nick which just sorta pop up announce things. I covered all of season 3 of Ducktales and season 2 of amphibia (With season 3 coverage coming in october) and i’m currently reviewing Owl House every week till that hiatus hits. 

Finally i’m currently looking at all the Tom Luictor episodes of star vs the forces of evil tracking both Tom’s character arc and the show’s steady decline straight into the dumps. 

Comics wise i’m more sporadic but in addition to duck comics stuff, I’ve also been doing a retrospective on the Scott Pilgrim franchise: all 6 volumes of the comic, those reviews avaliable now and in two weeks from this post, just in time for  the video game and movie anniversaries to finish things up. I recently started another one for the comic book Transformers: More Than Meets the Eye, I intend to finish one I did for New X-Men, and I have a few in my mind’s eye I want to do soon on John Ostrandre’s Suicide Squad run, Justice League International, and Mega Man that i’m going to do pilots for to see if anyone’s interested. 

Finally recently i’ve started doing quick thoughts, quick reviews on recent stuff from trailers to full on movies I don’t have to cover normally. 

So What Is Your Patreon?

Patreon is a site where creators can get paid for work and can put up exclusive content and what not. You pledge anywhere from a dollar a month, and become one of my patrons and help me do this blog for a living. I genuinely love writing about media, analyzing it and making weird jokes, and this lets me do that as my job and my passion. I simply don’t want to put finacing that on the backs of only two people. 

So What’s In It For Me?

Unlike Tumblr itself I feel my supporters deserve to get the most bang for their buck. As such Patreon Membership starts at JUST ONE DOLLAR. That’s right for a dollar a month, 12 bucks a year so the price of a movie, you get access to my occasoinal exclusive reviews, exclusive poles once I get more than two members so that’s actually sensical to do to vote on reviews, and to pick a theatrical short when i review a bunch of them for character birthdays or holidays or just cause. 

In addition to these though i’ve decided to sweeten the pot. ON SIGN UP ANY PATREON OF ANY TIER GETS ONE FREE REVIEW OF ANY SINGLE EPISODE OF TELEVISION OR ISSUE OF A COMIC BOOK. That’s right for just one buck, you get a review of your choice. Whatever you want. You want to force me to watch something you hate so someone else can bitch about it for you? Go on about an episode yo ulove? shine a light on something obscure? Well i’m your man and for ONE BUCK A MONTH, you can get that. Whatever you want put on my schedule as soon as I have room and your payment’s gone through. 

And if you want me to review stuff on a more regular basis, five bucks a month gets you a review a month, same permaiters as above along with said free review. I will PERSONALLY make sure there’s a space on the schedule every month for your patreon review and review whatever you want no matter how good, bad or stuppid. 

But that’s not ALL. 

STRETCH GOALS:

To explain these better than what I did next time: My stretch goals are goals on my patreon: if I hit a certain number of Patreons I will review (Insert Thing Here) And these are meaty projects too: full season reviews, retrospectives and what have you and something’s unlocked with each person who signs up, adjusted from orignally basing it on price. So your dollar a month not only gets you your own review, but also will get my solemn vow to review a bunch of other thigns, and the more people who sign up the more thigns I’ll add to my plate. Not only that but just for this pledge drive i’m adding a bunch of super neat drive exclusvie stretch goals that will VANISH AT THE END OF AUGUST. dosen’t mean I won’t EVER do these reviews, but it does mean i’ll probably sit on them a bit. 

TLDR: You singing up gets me to guarantee to review some extra stuff. 

SO WHAT ARE THE GOALS. 

I”m glad you asked. Each one is based on a person joining, so 

REGULAR PATREON GOALS THAT AREN’T GOING TO EXPIRE BUT ARE STILL PRETTY NEAT:

One goal for each new patreon so

1 New Patreon: Starting off light but still juicy, I will review the complete season one of Amphibia across two posts. I’ve already rewatched the season recently, so all someone has to do is sign up and i’ll get on it in septmeber in time for season 3! And that’s not the only show as i’ll also review BOTH seasons of the birdtastic show after my own heart Tuca and Bertie! 

2 New Patrons: This one’s a big lighter but you still get some neat things: for my scottaholics in the audience I will review the rest of Brian Lee O’Malley’s works so far: Lost at Sea (his first graphic novel) Seconds (his first post scott work) and Snotgirl (his first ongoing and first work he didn’t draw himself), which follow a girl trying to reclaim her soul/cat, an immature restrauntieur who discovers reality changing muschrooms, and an influencer who might of done a murder. For those who don’t really like Scott Pilgrim i’ll review a buch of paramount plus shows first seasons: Kamp Korral, the rugrats rugboot and iCarly. So if any of that sounds good get on the bus won’t you?

3 New Patrons: My juicest one and one that stands alone: I will review the complete first season of the Owl House across two posts. Every episode, every bit of lumity progressoin, every bit of foreshadowing in hindsight, all for you, all if three people join my patron. So if you want more bisexual magic, step up. 

4 New Patrons: Duck Goals Woo-Ooo! This one unlocks a review from Duck Master Carl Barks EVERY MONTH. Not only that I will be taking suggestoins from my patrons , meaning you can help decide which ones I do! And while tha’ts plenty i’m jucing this one up as getting me this far also nets a review of This Duckburg Like, the interquel podcast that’s given us our last ducktales content for what will likely be an eternity. 

5 New Patrons: Gravity Falls Retrospective! I”m not only talking both season of Alex Hirsch’s era defining masterpice, but also the side materials I have acess to: the shorts, Journal #3, and the lost legends tie in comic. I”d throw legend of the gnome gemulets in there two if I had a working 2ds or 3ds bu tas it stands this is what I got. 

6 New Patrons: Avatarverse Retrospective. No not James Cameron the Bravest Pioneer’s movie he wants to turn into a franchise despite NO ONE wanting this please stop James, we’re begging you. Of course i’m talking about Avatar the Last Airbender, the epic franchise that’s blowing up in size. This will include all three books of Avatar: The Last Airbender, All Four Books of the Legend of Korra, and all the juicy side stuff I can cover: the sequel comics for both series, the kioshi novels and the eye gougingly bad M Night Shamlyn Movie. Yes I really will   myself to that. I have not till now i’m happy that way but I will sufer for you. Speaking of suffering:

7 New Patrons: It’s a crapstravaganza!  If i’ve made it this far I clearly have enough fan support that I can fly into the eye of the crapstorm so i’m going to review some of the worst things I can think of:  * Chuck Austen’s X-Men the run that dared to ask the tough questions your coke addleed uncle you don’t let see your kids would like “What if Angel could cure AIDS with his blood and had sex with a minor while her parents watched?” “What if a rouge relgious sect tried to make Nightcrawler pope and then desingrate people with commuiion wafers in a scheme that makes no sense?” and “What if an x-man made a plant horny?”  * America: The comic that has the infamous and oft used by me line to compare it to other bad lines “What in the holy menstration are you doing here”. And it’s still not the most bonkers thing int his somehow 12 ISSUE SERIES tha twastes one of marvels best creations.  * The Prince: Aka that series HBO what farted out onto the service with no intention of renewal after realizing “Holy shit we greenlit this what is wrong with us” which is basically family guy but with the royal family. I’d say it was a somehow worse family guy but Famiily Guy once had an episode that was about 22 minutes of transphobic punchlines so as long as there isn’t an episode of that your good.  * Mordecai is a Bastard Man: Aka that arc of Regular Show that took a ship I really liked, Mordecai and CJ, and then destoryed it with cheating, attempted murder and saxophone.  *Star Vs Final Arc: Aka a look at how a once great show descended into a mess with unfinished plot lines, wasted characters and a finale so terrible it’s only topped by “Kids this is the story of how I really want you to say it’s okay to bang aunt robin” 8 New Patrons: Infinity Train, all four books and any finale movie if it happens. (Please let it happen) All aboard! 9 New Patrons: Two juicy disney retrospectives! The Incredibles (both movies and both comics series) and Darkwing Duck (Both the Boom! and Joe Books runs) Let’s get incredibly dangerous! 10 New Patrons: My highest tier for now and i’ts anothe rdouble feature and two big projects. If you get me this far, you’ve earned em: A She Ra and the Pricesses of Power Retrospective and a Bojack Horseman retrospective. The two greatest things Netflix has made back to back for life. 

And THAT’S NOT ALL... as I said I have some special stretch goals JUST FOR THIS PLEDGE DRIVE. 

SPECIAL DRIVE SPECIFIC GOALS BABY!:

These are a simple five extra projects for hitting the goals within the rest of the drive FROM AUGUST 1ST TO AUGUST 31ST. I will not add these to the regular goals for a full year if you do not reach them, so one buck helps you unlock projects that otherwise might not happen for YEARS. Like the other goals their measured by patrons but ONLY for this month sooooo

1 New Patron: Quack Pack series review! the most hated Disney Afternoon show in one big two part review. God help me. 2 New Patrons: Rise of the TMNT Retrospective: Both seasons, a movie and regular coverage on the offchance a third season hopefully gets greenlit.  3 New Patrons: Peanuts and Garfield Specials retrospective!: Retrospectives for the technicolor years long world of Peanuts specials and the shorte rlived but still neat garfield specails. All the specials plus all the animated movies for both!  4 New Patrons: Craig of the Creek-AThon: Rewatching season one and watching BOTH seasons i’ve missed since then with full reviews as well as reviews of each bomb of episodes as their released on teh app from here on out!  5 New Patrons: Steven Universe Retrospective! All 5 seasons, The Movie, Future, the comics, graphic novels and games. EVERY. THING. 

So if ANY of this sounds enticing 

STOP BY MY PATREON RIGHT HERE IN THIS LINK, SIGN UP TODAY, HELP ME GET PAID DOING WHAT I LOVE AND GET REVIEWS FOR EVERYBODY. YOU WON’T REGRET IT AND YOU’LL BE MAKING MY LIFE BETTER. 

And even if you can’t support it feedback on the goals, reblogs to get the word out and general words of encouragment are appricated so join me as I try to get at least one extra dollar a month in the span of this month. PITTER PATTER, let’s get at er!

[ffangirlingsince2001]

End of the Tunnel: VI

George Weasley x Reader

Description: It’s almost been a year since Freed Weasley was lost to the Battle of Hogwarts, and for George Weasley it might as well be an eternity. He is lost in the dark, no color to be found. Until suddenly there might be a light at the end of the tunnel.

Warnings: (future as well as present) suicidal thoughts, smut, angst, fluff, depression,  attempted SUICIDE, self harm, torture, mentions of torture

MASTERLIST

***

His suit was too itchy and the restaurant was too stuff. He had been dreading this day since Hannah had invited him, and like a bloody idiot, he had agreed. He had begged and pleaded, but no excuse, no feigned illness could convince her not to go.

“You’ve already agreed,” she argued as she had dragged him out the door. He would have stayed behind had she not looked so lovely, after Umbridge he was sure he would never like pink again, but here he was staring at her like the most glorious sunset. And he just couldn’t stand the thought of Malfoy getting to look at her while he was at home pouting.

So, he was sitting in the aforementioned stuffy restaurant, waiting for one of his least favorite people in the world to arrive. His only consolation were her fingers, laced between his, her thumb rubbing the back of his hand while the moments ticked by.

“He’s late,” he grumbled, and she rolled her eyes, pulling him a little closer.

“Behave,” she muttered. Her breath was warm, and the softness of her tone relaxed him more than anything else could. He was almost convinced that this wouldn’t be as bad as he had once imagined, until the slimy little weasel stepped inside. He had a warm looking woman by his side, dressed in a soft bleu but he was just as vile looking as ever. To make matters worse, Hannah jumped at the sight of him. His hand was left cold and empty and he was forced to watch as she wrapped him in a tight hug George had been sure she saved only for him.

She quickly led the couple to their table and returned to her seat beside George, returning her hand to his. Malfoy was staring at him with expired disgust and a surprising amount of sadness. The woman at his side held him close, offering George a warm smile, as if she was aware of the amount of hatred coursing through his veins as he was forced to remain at the table.

“Sloane, this is George,” Hannah said, quickly trying to cut through the attention.

“I’m so glad to finally meet you,” she gushed reaching across the table to shake his hand, “Hannah has told us so much about you.”

“She has?” he managed through the anger.

“Of course, I’ve practically fallen for you myself,” she laughed, rolling her eyes when she caught the look Draco sent her, “No need to get jealous, you know I’m kidding. But you already know each other from school, don’t you?”

“Tragically,” George muttered, and Draco flinched away. Outwardly, he was glaring, but beneath the table his nerves were showcased through fidgeting fingers and a shaking leg. Hannah elbowed him as subtly as she dared before sending a smile to the man who he despised. The tension thickened, choking out any possibility for relaxed small talk.

“How goes work?” Sloane asked, directing her question at Hannah, both doing their best to salvage the atmosphere of their lunch.

“Good, good, although I miss the two of you coming in after work.”

“I miss it too, but everything has gotten crazy down at the Daily Prophet. You would think all the gossip would have disappeared by now but weeding out the lies has gotten worse than the time Rita Skeeter was in business.”

“You’re a witch?” George interrupted. Both girls seemed surprised he was attempting to make conversation, but they quickly replaced their shock with smiles.

“I am.”

“I don’t remember you from school.”

“Oh, I hail from Ilvermorny.” The certainly explained the lack of accent.

“What brought you to London?”

“All the scandal,” she laughed, and George offered a hesitant chuckle. “Everything mainstream is over here, everything we write about back in America happened at least two days prior here. Plus, I’m writing a book.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, and there was absolutely nothing worth writing about Massachusetts, you’ve got to come to the action, to the drama, to the tragedy.” Slowly, George glanced between the rest of the table’s occupants. Hannah was watching him closely, as if prepared to hold him to his seat should he freak. Sloane was asking him a question he felt unable to answer, and strangest of all, Draco was staring at her like she was the most wonderful person in the entire world. George had never seen him so soft and loving. He could see him holding her hand, pulling it into his lap.

“George,” Hannah whispered, and he snapped his gaze back to her blue eyes, “Are you okay?”

“Of course,” he stammered. They were all staring at him now. “I’m sorry what did you ask?”

“He owns a joke shop,” Hannah answered for him. He shifted uncomfortably and the waiter saved him from falling further into the abyss of awkwardness. They ordered quickly, and it took George a lot of effort not to order the strongest bottle of whatever they had, just to ease away the tension.

They conversed softly, everyone but George, he simply couldn’t seem to open his mouth again, Malfoy seemed to be suffering from something similar, except Sloane kept dragging him into the conversation every time he sank too far into discomfort.

Hannah was doing the same for him, not through conversation, but through the way she dragged her thumb across the back of his hand, glancing at him with warm eyes every time he was sure he was going to collapse.

The food came and went. It was just as wonderful as she had promised. They began to leave, and Sloane dragged Hannah to the loo (most likely to gossip about something or another), leaving Draco and George alone.

“I’m sorry,” Draco whispered, voice rough against his throat, “I’m sorry about it all.” Two months ago, George would have killed him right there, smearing his blood across this fine establishment. Instead he took a deep breath and held out a shaking hand.

“It’s not your fault, you were just another product of war,” he whispered, voice just as rough. Draco’s eyes were wide with surprise as he stepped closer, hand outstretch. As their hands met in a firm handshake, George noticed the dark circles beneath his icy eyes and the way his shoulders seemed to droop in relief.

“Hannah used to say that to me,” he whispered, and George smiled, he had gotten it from her. It’s what she whispered to him when tears slipped out of his eyes and the fear got to great, he wasn’t naïve enough to imagine that she didn’t whisper it into the ears of others who she came across. “She’s amazing, you know that, right?”

“More than anything.” Their hands separated and the thought of wiping his hand across the fabric of his pants never crossed his mind. “How did you meet her?”

“About a month after the war ended, I was hiding out in London and I wandered into her bar. I demanded some whiskey and she outright refused, I thought I was going to kill her, right there but she just ordered me to stand up and gave me the couch in the back to crash on and some water. I didn’t leave for five days, just laid there wallowing in self-pity while she brought me a glass of water every once and awhile. And then, on the sixth day she brought me some clothes and sent me to wash dishes.” George laughed at the idea of Draco Malfoy cleaning dishes in a muggle bar, but quickly motioned for him to go on. “I lived there for a few months, and met Sloane, who got me a real job and eventually I moved out, but it’s hard not to be friends with the girl who gave you a place to stay when the whole world wants you dead.”

“Do you know about her attack?”

“Yes, she told me about it after she recognized the mark on my arm.”

“Do you know who it was?”

“I do, but they’re no longer a problem.”

“And why do you say that?”

“I killed them.” George swallowed as a mixture of fear and gratitude filled his chest, watching as Sloane and Hannah rejoined them.

“George!” Hannah gasped grabbing his hand and pulling him close. “Sloane was just telling me about the gala celebrating the end of the war, you’re going right?” George shrugged, he had heard about it, but the mere thought of it had sent him running for the bathroom to throw up his lunch. “George?”

“Of course,” he responded against his better judgement, smiling at her hopeful eyes. She grinned and Sloane squealed.

“We’re going to have to go shopping,” Sloane gasped, dragging Hannah towards the exit, leaving the boys behind.

“You’re going?” George asked and Draco shrugged.

“She wants me to, but I’m not sure I’m welcome.”

“Hannah might kill me if you don’t come, you should join us,” he managed to choke out, against his better judgement, his mind only thinking of Hannah and the way she would look at him when he informed her that Malfoy and Sloane would be joining them. The two men followed their dates out into the London street and shook once more before departing in opposite directions.

“We don’t have to go,” Hannah whispered, taking her hand in his.

“I’ll have to Draco we’ve cancelled then,” he replied, and she squealed with delight jumping into his arms. He spun her around laughing, inviting the weasel had been worth it after all.

[kumeko]

A/N: For the Butterfly Estate Zine! Spoilers for later events in the manga, for anime-onlys.

…

…

…

…

Shinobu pressed her fingers against the coin, feeling the imprint of the hard edges on her skin. Even in the warm, spring sunlight, the metal felt cold. “Kanae gave this to you, right?” she asked, idly turning it over on her palm.

 Standing next to her, Kanao nodded her head slowly. “To help me decide,” she explained, a fond smile on her face. There was a hint of sorrow in her expression, something Shinobu saw in the mirror whenever she thought of her sister. It was less than it was yesterday, less than it was a year ago, and while it would be ever present, the pain had eased.

 Shinobu glanced at her younger sister. A chill breeze blew through, ruffling her hair and the butterfly clasp keeping her locks together. Would she wear a second one, when Shinobu died? A memento from both sisters? Swallowing down the lump in her throat, Shinobu closed her hand around the coin. “Despite how she acted, she always knew what to do.”

 Kanao clasped her hands in front of her, nodding. “She did.” Peeking up, she added shyly, “And so do you.”

“Do I?” Shinobu questioned, looking up at the Wisteria trees that bordered her estate. Their sickly-sweet scent lingered in the air, the purple blooms fluttering in the wind, and even after all this time, Shinobu couldn’t get used to their scent. She felt small and impermanent in comparison to the eternally blooming giants. The problem she faced was bigger than her, almost as old as the trees themselves.

 A part of her feared it would continue long after she was gone.

 A soft touch brought her out of her thoughts and she looked down to find Kanao’s hand wrapped around hers. In front of her, her sister uttered simply, “Yes.”

 For once, Kanao looked self-assured, no doubt colouring her voice. Shinobu swallowed. It was wrong of her to lean on Kanao so much, to need this confidence. Despite herself, she raised her other hand, sandwiching Kanao’s between hers. “I guess you’re right,” she finally said, keeping her voice from cracking.

 This settled it. Any reservations she had about her idea, Shinobu let go. Her time was limited. It had always been the case, ever since she’d picked up her sister’s sword. No, even before that, when her parents had died, when she’d taken the Master’s hand, her body trembling from fear. It was just more so now; she knew her expiration date better than most.

 Only, this wasn’t just revenge. It couldn’t be. Not when Kanao was standing in front of her, love and belief shining through her eyes.

 No, this was about protecting. About keeping her family, however small it was now, safe.

 “Thanks.” Shinobu pulled her hand free. The coin was still on her hand, heavy as ever.

 “Do you need to make a decision?” Kanao asked, her eyes flickering from the coin to Shinobu.

 “I guess. Heads, I’ll do it.” Shinobu flipped the coin, watching the bronze gleam in the sunlight. She already knew what side it’d land.

 Tomorrow, she’d talk to the Master about the Wisteria poison.

 -x-

 “AHHHH!” Tanjirou roared, his sword high in the air as he charged forward. Shinobu could almost see the rush of an incoming wave, the clash against the rocks when he struck. If Giyuu’s technique had the tranquility of a pond, Tanjirou’s was the aggressive stream coursing ever forward.

 And she was the water spider, gliding above it all. She jumped, flipping through the air and landing behind him. Unable to change his course or stop his momentum, Tanjirou crashed into one of the trees surrounding the training grounds. He rolled backwards, falling flat on his back.

 “Good effort,” she praised, tucking a lock behind her ear as she bent over him.

 “T-thanks,” he wheezed. He lay there and tried to catch his breath.

 “You’re getting better.” Shinobu lifted her right arm and inspected her uniform. Poking her finger through the hole he made, she chuckled. All this from a boy who just learned to keep his breathing constant. “You’re a quick learner.”

 Tanjirou’s eyes lit up and he sat up quickly. “Really?”

 “Really,” she nodded, humming her agreement.

 “G-great.” He’d moved too quickly, and his body struggled to keep him upright before giving up entirely. Falling flat on his back, he closed his eyes and sighed happily. “I can try again in a minute.”

 There was something utterly refreshing about his earnestness and honesty. It reminded her a little of Rengoku. Maybe she should have them meet properly after this. Sitting next to him on the cool, wet grass, she leaned back and enjoyed the cool breeze. “It’s fine, take your time.”

 “Thanks.” His breathing had yet to even out.

 Glancing over to her right, she observed their audience on the veranda. Hidden in the shade, Nezuko was watching them curiously, her pink eyes bright despite the gloom. Kiyo was sitting behind her, braiding her hair, while Sumi and Naho neatly folded their laundry. At first, they’d run away at the sight of her, but now, they looked almost too relaxed next to her.

 Nezuko. A demon that didn’t hunger. Shinobu’s eyes flicked back to the panting Tanjirou. “You’re going to kill Muzan for her,” she asked without thinking.

 Tanjirou’s eyes flew open and he stared at her in surprise.  “How…”

 She chuckled. “It’s not like you hide it.” Or, even if he tried, could hide it well. Tanjirou was far too frank for deception.

 “R-right.” Tanjirou gave a sheepish smile, his cheeks colouring a light red. No doubt he was remembering past declarations of Muzan’s death. He sat up slowly and waved to Nezuko. “It’s the only way to save her.”

 Shinobu imagined her expression was the same whenever she looked at Kanae—tender, soft, a little sad. Picking a strand of grass, she methodically tore it to pieces. “You could die.”

 “I won’t,” he replied immediately, filled with the confidence of youth. For a moment, she believed him. There was something in Tanjirou that she hadn’t seen in ages, a hopeful belief in the future mixed with a tragic understanding of the present.

 Perhaps Muzan could be defeated in her lifetime.

 Still, wishes didn’t make things so, and Shinobu tossed the grass pieces at him. “You could die,” she repeated firmly.

 Tanjirou looked at her now. Recognizing the seriousness of the question, he frowned, crossing his arms as he considered it. “I…” He lowered his eyes, taking a deep breath before offering a sad smile. “That doesn’t matter. Nezuko’s family; I have to try, no matter what.” Once more, he looked at his sister. “She’d do the same for me.”

 “That, I can understand.” Even now, she could smell the Wisteria, hear the click of her nail flipping the coin. Kanae’s blood had been so warm, her body so cold. There were things you did for family, no matter the cost, and she found herself looking for Kanao even though she wouldn’t be here. “There are some things more important than your life.”

 “Yeah.” Tanjirou nodded.

 Shinobu turned to him, sizing him up. He’d survived grief, managed to stand even when sorrow threatened to swallow him whole. Kanao would need someone like that when she died. Selfishly, she asked, “Would you be friends with Kanao?”

 His eager nod eased the load on her shoulders ever so slightly.

 -x-

 Sitting on the porch, Shinobu gently swirled the sake in her cup. It was a rare night she got to relax, to just sit here and admire the night sky. The moon hung low in the heavens, full and heavy, and the gentlest of breezes rustled through the grass.

 Behind her, quiet footsteps approached her and she smiled. “I thought you didn’t like drinking,” she teased, glancing over her shoulder as Giyuu stepped out into the moonlight.

 “I don’t,” he stated, slowly sitting down next to her. As usual, his blank expression and dry tone gave away nothing.

 “Could have fooled me,” she muttered, taking a sip. She wasn’t quite sure when this had started, this almost-habit of late-night drinking. At some point, he’d started joining her when she relaxed and watched the moon. At some point, she’d stopped minding it.

 “I don’t think anyone could fool you,” he answered bluntly, his eyes on the moon.

 She chuckled. For a man who didn’t know how to joke, he was constantly unintentionally funny. “No, I suppose not.” Her wits were the only thing that made up for her stature. Leaning forward, she smiled teasingly. “So did you miss my company or the view while you were away?”

 Giyuu’s brow furrowed, the only indication that he was frowning. He fell silent, more so than usual, and she hadn’t expected him to consider her question so seriously.

 Perhaps she should let him off easy this time. It had been a while since they’d last sat together like this and despite her attitude, she did enjoy his company. Somehow. It wouldn’t do to scare him away. “You don’t—”

 “Both,” Giyuu finally admitted.

 “—have to…” Shinobu trailed off, blinking as she processed his answer. Staring at him, she tried not to gape. “Both?”

 He merely nodded. Nothing about his straight back, the profile of his blank face, or even his hands, neatly tucked into the opposite arm’s sleeves, gave away his emotions.

 Both. Shinobu bit her lip, stopping herself from asking what exactly he meant by that. Did he like this quiet hour together too? Did he just miss the calm of it all? And would it be worth the frustrating hours of trying to pull the words from his lips?

 No, definitely not. Still, in a rare moment of honesty, she smiled into her cup. “Me too.”

 He glanced at her when she said that but still said nothing.

 She swirled her sake once more. The moon’s reflection rippled in the clear liquid. Butterflies danced in the nearby wisteria trees and even when she died, that scent would follow her to her grave. Taking advantage of the atmosphere, she asked, “Why did you spare Tanjirou and Nezuko?”

 From the corner of her eyes, she watched as he bit his lip, his frown growing deeper as he grappled with an answer. After a long silence punctuated only by the soft chirp of the cicadas, he finally answered, “She protected him.”

 “That was unusual for a demon,” she agreed. His expression was dark and she wondered if that reminded him of some incident in his past, some haunting memory he hadn’t finished wrestling with. For all her talk about becoming friends with demons, she would have killed Nezuko on the spot. Almost had, in fact, if not for the Master’s intervention.

 And now this unusual demon and her brother could be the very key to ending centuries worth of conflict. She set down her sake, no longer thirsty. “They’re going to come for her soon.” Shinobu could almost feel it. The new training, the Master’s changed tactics, everything was coming to a head.

 Her days were numbered. A year’s worth of poison had to be enough to bring the demon down. Tomorrow, or maybe the day after, she’d have to tell Kanao. She wasn’t looking forward to that conversation.

 “Yeah.” Giyuu nodded, finally looking at her. “We’ll be ready.”

 Shinobu raised a brow. “That’s surprisingly hopeful of you.” He didn’t say anything but she had a feeling it was Tanjirou’s influence.

 Something started changing after Tanjirou had arrived, and it wasn’t just the demons who’d transformed. She heard the quiet clink of a coin, saw gold flipping against the bright blue sky. The coin would land, the die set, and there was no time to say it but now. Fiddling with her sleeves, Shinobu asked quietly, “Could you take care of Kanao?” Impassive eyes stared at her and she smiled, giving nothing away. “If something happens,” she clarified.

 “No,” he answered just as bluntly as he normally did.

 “How cruel.” Shinobu sighed.

 “She has you,” Giyuu continued, as steady as a river, and for all the deaths they’d experienced, it seemed hers had never crossed his mind.

 Shinobu took pride in the compliment. She hoped it wouldn’t hurt him too much when he found out he was wrong. “She does.”

 There was a small gap between them, a space that had shrunk in the past years. She wondered if it would have disappeared in the coming months, if their fingers would have overlapped and thighs brushed one another.

 A question she’d never know the answer to. She felt sadder at that than she’d thought.

 -x-

 The demon’s strikes were harder than she’d expected. Shinobu lay on the wooden platform, gasping as she tried to breathe. Her ribs were cracked, a trickle of blood escaping her lips, and she barely had the energy to open her eyes, let alone grab her sword.

 No wonder he was an upper moon. He was far too strong, and she couldn’t kill him with her weapon.

 She’d hoped and hoped, but it seemed there was no wiggling out of her fate.

 Shinobu, Kanae stood by her head, her expression sad. You know what to do.

 Shinobu closed her eyes. Somewhere, a coin glinted in the sun, flipping through the air. Somewhere, the wisteria trees perfumed the air with their sticky, sweet scent. If she were honest, she’d made her decision long before that. The second she’d picked up her sister’s abandoned sword, rage swirling in her petite body, she’d known one way or another this was her destiny.

 Grabbing her sword, Shinobu took a deep breath. Maybe she should have closed that gap, reached over and grabbed Giyuu’s hand. Or prepared Kanao better, there were so many things she’d wanted to teach her.

 Damn it all, she thought she’d prepared herself for this, but there were so many things she wanted to do, to say. Her sister stared down at her and Shinobu hoped she wasn’t disappointed that she was going to die the same way she had.

 “Is that all?” Doma sighed, his voice grating her ears.

 “No,” she gritted out, forcing herself to stand.

 It was too late for regrets.

 The coin had landed heavily, the symbol digging into her skin. Heads, she had declared, her heart heavy with resignation. I guess I’ll do it.

 Shinobu raised her sword and charged.

[embriium]

i hate studying at home. i simply CANNOT study in this place. 

tl;dr i’m losing my fucking mind and i hate being alive

my house is huge, ngl, but there is absolutely no livable space. it’s all just storage space for my family’s junk. 

i could technically study in the kitchen since hardly anyone goes in there and because it provides more surface space for studying, but it’s also just filled with shit. it’s dirty and messy and unorganized. it drives me nuts. and even if i have access to snacks (i’m prone to snacking), the snack is not even guaranteed to be edible because they’re expired. ugh, not to mention that while no one really goes into the kitchen, i am still accessible to my family whose all-around bad vibe makes me unable to concentrate, even on my adhd meds (today i took my daily dose and i still experienced my usual adhd symptoms, though that might be due to me entering the luteal phase of my menstrual cycle... ugh). anyway, i’m just wondering to myself whether my discomfort stems from these extrinsic characteristics of my house/home or whether it stems from my more deeply rooted issue of “I’ve felt so unsafe and uncomfortable in the place in which I live for so long that the only function I can perform is Dissociate-To-Survive.” i wanna say it’s a good 30/70 split?  ... yeah no, I’m lying. It’s like... 20/80, lmfao.  but, uh, as a side tangent, i’m really starting to think i might also be undiagnosed asd, if only because (1) on two separate occasions i’ve been asked if i was autistic; (2) i’ve always felt this need to have step-by-step instructions on how to socialize with other people and what is expected; (3) i’m deeply uncomfortable with extended periods of eye contact and touch, even with people i like; (4) i can be so unbearably honest that it has made other people uncomfortable; and (5) i’ve struggled for the longest time with feeling like everything i do is all a performance for other people. Like with (4)? Holy fuck.  I know people don’t want to know how I’m actually feeling. I KNOW THIS. I TELL THIS TO MYSELF ALL THE TIME. 

BUT!! When I’m lacking the energy to keep up appearances (or, lacking the energy to mask, apparently) I am compelled to be completely honest.  Me, standing in the Pharmacy line:  Old Man, friendly: What are you doing in the pharmacy line? You’re so young! Me, inwardly: (... Just be friendly, just chat with him, it’s no big deal, don’t overshare...) (.... but i’m tired.) (NO. BE FRIENDLY) Me: You know just because a person is young doesn’t mean they’re healthy. There are plenty of young people who have illnesses, myself included.  Old Man, visibly faltering:  Me, inwardly: (Oh fuck, oh fuck, shouldn’t have said that, make a joke, lighten the mood, say something!!!) Me, out loud and pointing at a sign: I mean, I may be at the intersection of happy and healthy, but I am neither happy nor healthy LOL. Old Man: ................................................................. Me: (DUDE?) Me, talking to a barista: Hi! Barista: Hey, what’re you feeling? Me: Um, do you mean what am I actually feeling or what do I want to drink? Because I’d rather save you the time and trauma of how I’m feeling LOL.  Barista, awkward laugh:  Me: um i’ll just get an iced decaf caramel latte with oat milk thank you Me, inwardly: (GODDAMN IT DUDE!! MAKE A FUCKING THERAPY APPOINTMENT!!)

so uh yeah. and that’s just um... five reasons. i have many more, but i’m still struggling with learning to deal with adhd. ahglakjhetlak oh, and if you’ve read this far, you’re a blessing.

[cheri-translates]

[CN] Lucien’s Revelation Date (Eng Translation)

🍒Warning: This post contains detailed spoilers for a date which has not been released in English servers!🍒

Note: I translated this because Lucien hasn’t been given much love on this blog 😂 I’ve actually been struggling to pin down his personality, much less like him as a character. This date seems to the most recent release on the CN server, so I thought it’d be helpful in the creation of future text post memes to properly sit down and understand his psyche. 

I didn’t expect to enjoy it as much as I did! I hope you will too. Without further ado, please enjoy this rare Lucien content! 

A week ago, MC found out that when Lucien was still studying in the UK, he rented a small farmhouse in Hampshire which has a large manor adjacent to it. The lease expired, so Lucien needed to handle the cancellation matters in person. Given this opportunity to travel, MC happily tagged along.

At present, it is the second day that MC and Lucien are at the farmhouse. They have woken up especially early to make a sumptuous English-style breakfast.

When MC thinks that she is more or less done, Lucien comments that MC has missed the most important thing – milk tea. He takes out a small pot and pours two cups of water into it.

Lucien: Come, let me teach you how to make milk tea.

MC: Eh?

Both of Lucien’s hands encircle my waist from behind, wrapping me in his arms.

MC: … But I know how to make milk tea.

My small refutation is completely ignored. He lowers his head and plants his chin on my shoulder, leaning on me even more.

Lucien: The first step to making milk tea is to put the tea leaves in after the water has boiled.

After a while, bubbles start surfacing in the small pot. Lucien places a paper bag of black tea in my hands. He holds my hand and gently pours some leaves into the pot.

Lucien: Now, we need to wait patiently for a while.

As soon as the tea leaves make contact with the water, a light aroma permeates the air. I lean on Lucien while looking around the farmhouse with curiosity.

Even though Lucien hasn’t been here for a very long time, it appears that someone has been maintaining the place. The furniture is clean, and the flowers displayed at the windowsill are fresh.

MC: Lucien, when did you rent this place?  

Lucien: After I graduated. I was doing some research back then and needed a place where I could concentrate on writing my thesis, so I rented to this place.

He explains that there a housekeeper has been tending to the home, which is why it is still in such a clean condition. 

Considering the peaceful atmosphere and how leisurely they have been spending their time at the manor, Lucien jokes and says it’d be great if they could live such a life every day, and that early retirement doesn’t sound like a bad idea.

After breakfast, MC suggests that they spend the rest of their morning drinking tea and reading books in the attic. Lucien thinks it is a good idea, but says he needs to find something important first.

It turns out that “something important” is a time capsule – two envelopes that MC and Lucien had written a while back when they visited a bookstore. They were asked to randomly pick questions related to their emotions, answer them in a letter, and then leave it in the bookstore for safekeeping. They bring the envelopes to the attic.

MC: I remember the bookstore mentioning that we could collect our time capsules after 99 days, right?

Lucien: They did give me a call, but it happened during the time our relationship changed. I should have given them your contact details, but I was selfish. I requested that they send the letters to this address. It was to prevent me from opening your letter… and to give myself a chance. If there was ever a chance for us to return to this place, I would want to open my letter in front of you.

His voice is calm as he gives me a brief overview of what happened. After saying this, he smiles and takes a sip of hot tea. I smile gently while looking at him.

It is like having two people insist on going opposite directions, painstakingly treading through an arduous winding path, only to realise that the goal was always right there. So there’s nothing else they can do but look at each other, laugh in resignation, and quietly berate each other for being the silly one.

MC: … Back then, the reason why I insisted on us writing our letters was because I wanted to see your response too.

After all, being with him meant that I had to rationalise many little emotions I had. I had to assuage my own worries, and get used to sudden bouts of longing.

Lucien is the most difficult problem I have ever encountered. He perplexes my mind. I always end up eagerly hoping that he can give me an answer.

Seeing that I have become quiet, Lucien takes my hand in his, his low voice radiated by sunlight.

Lucien: I shall reveal the answer to you.

We open our envelopes at the same time.

I take out the question card that I had randomly picked, which had been folded several times as I was afraid Lucien would sneak a peek at it.

Written in fancy fonts on the exquisite card was the question: What did he/she teach you?

I arch my neck in curiosity, only to find that Lucien had gotten the exact same question.

He calmly takes out his letter, and on it is just three words. His penmanship reflects how the answer required little thinking.

MC: “Lack of freedom”…

After reading those three words aloud, Lucien laughs lightly.

Lucien: Why are you reading it in such a somber tone? When I was writing the answer, I didn’t mean it to be unhappy at all. Although after knowing you, I experienced being perplexed about things I had never been perplexed about in my life, for example…

He considers it solemnly, and I unconsciously stare at him, making sure to etch into my heart every sentence that comes out of his mouth.

He lets out a small sigh before laughing to himself.

Lucien: For example, what to have for lunch and dinner.

MC: Huh?

I am left stunned at his unexpected words.

Lucien: Another example would be how I can’t help but notice the flowers of Spring, the rain in Summer, the leaves in Autumn, and the snow in Winter. Another example would be how I feel perplexed when watching a good movie alone, and feeling a need to share interesting things I find with someone. The strangest thing is, even my private time is becoming less and less interesting.

During his slow-paced explanation, Lucien’s eyes carry with it a smile as he watches me and my expression as it morphs from puzzlement to amazement.

Lucien: Is my way of thinking strange?

MC: Well… In my eyes, you’re always…

I can’t seem to find suitable words to use. Rational? Strong?

MC: You look like… You wouldn’t have the same troubles as me.

Lucien captures the hesitation in my eyes, and asks seriously.

Lucien: “The same troubles”… What do you mean by that?

He uses a slow tone of voice mixed with a smile. Evidently, the real answer to this question is clear. I am about to make a joke, but sensing the anticipation in his eyes, I can’t help but tell him what is in my heart.

MC: It means no matter who you meet, what circumstances you face, where you go, you wouldn’t involuntarily think of a particular person. This kind of involuntary… lack of freedom.

Lucien: … [laughs lightly]

A leisurely smile hangs on Lucien’s lips, and he looks up at the roof. A soft white cloud is reflected in his eyes, melding with his violet, creating a sense of tranquility and brilliance.

Lucien: Yes, they are indeed the same troubles.

At this moment, I slowly reveal my own sheet of paper. Coincidentally, there are also only three words written on it.

Lucien: “Having no fears.”

After Lucien reads the three words aloud, I can’t help but laugh.

MC: Why are you using such a melancholic tone? Are you worried that I was feeling wronged when writing this answer?

Lucien doesn’t speak, but his slightly raised eyebrows reveal that this was indeed his initial thoughts towards my words.

MC: Far from it. Back then, I was thinking that no matter what we face in the future, I would be willing to face it.

I pause for two seconds, worried that I was speaking too gravely. I flash Lucien a silly grin.

MC: Well… Basically there’s nothing worth being frightened of, and I’ll be fine when faced with anything.

My relaxed tone causes Lucien’s eyebrows to crease. He avoids my inquisitive gaze and seems to be deep in thought. In the end, he responds with his usual smile.

Lucien: There is still some milk tea left, shall we bring it up?

My instincts tell me that his understanding of what I said was different from what I actually meant. I hurriedly reach out and stop him, wanting to make crystal clear what is in my heart.

Lucien: What’s wrong?

Lucien gently tucks a stray hair behind my ear and looks at me with his usual warmth.

Lucien: Is there anything else we should bring to the attic?

I hold onto his face and look directly into his eyes.

MC: When I say that I’m not afraid, I don’t simply mean not being afraid to open up to you. I mean that I’m not afraid of anything. I’m not afraid of the secrets you keep, and I’m not afraid of accepting the real you. I’m not afraid to stand with you to overcome setbacks and difficulties. And I’m not afraid of the responsibilities and costs that come with being together with you. It doesn’t matter what it is. Being able to meet you, being able to have this moment... It is enough for me.

I say all of this in one breath, and realise that my heart rate has accelerated quite a bit.

Actually, these words should have been said a long time ago. I should have told him everything that was on my mind once I was certain of my feelings…

Just like the answers that were hidden in the envelopes, my words were long overdue.

Lucien looks at me quietly, his eyes expressing shock - something I have never seen before.

A warm, bittersweet aroma wafts out of the cup, permeating the air.

After a moment of silence, he gently frowns.

Lucien: Am I a supervillain in your eyes? Why does being with me require you to summon so much courage to overcome challenges, to bear costs and consequences… Is being with me really that difficult?

He reveals a troubled expression.

Lucien: I even thought what you meant by not having fears was that you did not have the same fears as I do.

He pretends to be secretive, dragging the last few words of his sentence. I can only respond by playing along and probing further.

MC: “Not having the same fears”… What do you mean by that?

All of a sudden, Lucien pulls me into his arms, lowering his voice and speaking into my ear. His voice sounds like a cloud, gently spreading across my heart, shining like sunlight after rain.

Lucien: It means not being afraid of anything when you are with me.

[interstellix]

full hearts ↳ lee minho (lee know)

genre: angst, fluff

summary: no matter how it’s played, it’s always the same ending - unless a new one is unlocked

word count: 2235

requested: “i would like to request an au with minho please and ummmm well :O IT’S CUTE”

warnings: mentions of blood

a/n: LMFAOO ALLY LOML I’M SO SORRY IDK WHAT THE HELL WENT WRONG HERE I- listen consider this a free coupon for a free request with no expiration date bc this shit went straight to hell LOL but ye ily mwah @walkingonwave​ also why tf did it get so long fjdfdhjdk

you hate it when someone plays your video game. not one that you own, but one that you’re in.

you hate it because, no matter how often it's played and how often you have to experience the same story over and over again, you never get used to the terror and pain lacing it.

there’s more to it than the eye meets, what the screen shows and what the player is served; to you, it’s simply too much.

“I swear, this game ruined my life,” minho sighs before showing you a smug smirk, “good thing I have one more.”

you shoot him a glare but still glance at the digital wristband he wears which, much to your relief, shows a glowing red heart next to two black ones. indeed, one more life.

“how can you even be joking in this kind of situation?” you ask between heavy breaths and look him up and down. “you’re bleeding from your arm, you just got shot in your leg and there are probably two, three broken ribs as well.”

minho snorts, “can you blame me? the player sucks.”

you can’t argue against that. the player does suck for sure, constantly getting you and the rest of your team in trouble, making you die left and right, using potions and other items like they’re lollipops handed out to children; honestly, you’re surprised they have even made it this far into the game - the final stage and battle. that said,

“yeah but you can still control what’s going on behind the scenes. maybe, maybe you wouldn’t be in the miserable state y-”

you’re cut short by the high-pitched, piping noise you’ve by now come to dread, not fancying the explosion it’s shortly after to be accompanied by; just as it comes, minho wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you up from the shattered pavement you had fallen limp on.

“as if you’re in place to call me miserable,” he sighs and runs away from the spot all while still carrying both his equipment and you. “look at yourself, I’m impressed you even have enough energy to complain so much.”

you remain silent, aware that you can’t deny it. the adrenaline rushing through your body is really the only thing keeping you awake despite you being in a fairly worse state than you had claimed minho to be in.

said one doesn’t slow down but occasionally steals glances at you and upon noting the exhaust slowly but surely taking over your features, he calls out, worry clear in his voice, “god damn it, y/n! keep your eyes open, you still have a full life left, right?”

though not all too pleased by it, minho takes the low hum escaping you as a valid answer and keeps running to the first possible shelter found. you eventually find yourself in a two story building, not in a particularly perfect state with the catastrophe of a final battle going on in the city but enough for shelter.

“minho?” hearing the energy gradually leaving your voice, minho bites his lip to stay relaxed and instead hums, waiting for you to go on. “how can you stay so calm?”

as he enters a bedroom and carefully places you down in the rightful bed inside, he answers simply, “if I show you I’m scared, you’ll start panicking even more, right?” slowly, he removes the heavy equipment from your body, showing you a small smile while wiping a wound on your cheekbone clean from blood. “I don’t really fancy that idea.”

the playful look in his face loosens into a soft one, lips curled up in a small smile and eyes warm, “make sure you get some rest, yeah?”

as soon as you hear this, your eyes widen and fear quickly fills you. tightly grabbing onto the hand now cupping your cheek, you question in a shake breath, “where are you going?”

“I have to find the rest of the team, it’s been a while since we were separated and I still can’t get in touch with them-”

a sharp pain settles itself in your abdomen when you hastily sit up in the bed but at that moment, you can’t seem to care any less about it and hold onto his shoulder instead. “w-wait, you’re just gonna leave me here?!”

minho lightly pushes your hand away and answers with clear confusion, “no, but we can’t just ditch the re-”

the conversation is cut short when the nth explosion erupts in the outside world, followed by a whole chain of more and you look out through the window, the city might as well be considered the hell on earth by now; the sight of dark smoke, fire and more and more buildings getting destroyed only adds to the lump of fear and anxiety in you. you look back at minho and with pleading, glossy eyes, you just barely manage say through your irregular breathing increasing at a ridiculously high pace,

“min, p-please, don’t leave me alone.”

he furrows his eyebrows, not understanding just how desperate you are for him to not find the rest of your friends, to the point where it almost sounds selfish. ��what’s wrong with you? we have to find the guys to finish the ga-”

right then, just as he catches a sole tear escaping your eye, realization seems to sink down on him, features once again softening. it’s nothing about selfishness at all, nothing about wanting to ‘ditch’ the rest of your friends. it’s simply the fear and pain of losing the person most dear to you - him.

“y/n...” minho’s hand returns to your cheek, this time to tenderly wipe the corner of your eye dry and as he speaks, his voice is almost comforting even during the definition of war currently going on, “we’ve played this game so, so many times, baby. you already know I’m always right with you.”

eyes shutting close, you lean into the touch of his hand and whisper, “you know that’s a lie, minho; I hate this game so much, we play everything together with the other guys, beat the final stage every, damn, time but we never get a happy ending. that shit just doesn’t exist in this game and I can’t handle it anymore.”

just as your vent of panic comes to an end, your wristband suddenly starts beeping, two quick, disturbing tunes. even more confused, minho looks down at its screen only for his jaw to drop; out of your three hearts, only a half of the last one is still shining and instead of the bright red, it’s a purple.

with a mix of anger and his own panic, minho groans while scanning your body for any possible causes of it, “when the fuck did you get poisoned?!” before going on, he finally finds a dark patch on your upper arm, staining it with the same shade of purple as shown on the screen. “why did you never tell me?”

despite the sobbing you’ve broken out in in the middle of the chaos, you choke out, “wouldn’t matter, player drained it all.”

minho’s jaw clenches and while he himself stays quiet, his mind is screaming, trying to figure out how to solve the situation. reaching out to the sheets under you, he pulls off a strip and hurries to wrap it around your arm in hopes of the poison to not spread as fast anymore. “listen well, alright?” he begins as he ties a tight knot. “don’t move or you’ll only lose even more health points; I don’t care if there’s never a happy ending, I won’t have you dying on me before we’re even done here.”

“but-”

“I can’t have you getting scared either. I won’t be able to focus on the game if I know you’re scared,” minho interrupts. he cups your face, solid eyes locking with your own, words gentle as they’re uttered,

“look at me, y/n. don’t think of anything else, just look at me.”

though staying quiet, you do as told. you do as told, relishing in the warmth radiating from his hands, letting yourself relax at the sight of your boyfriend so close up even though he looks like mess on two legs. you do as told, only for one tear after another to build up in your eyes.

minho leans his forehead against yours. when he whispers, you notice that you’re not the only scared one here, the shakiness in it revealing more than enough. all that said, he still manages to say every word you both need to hear and trust.

“just a little more... I don’t care about a happy story, if the game’s going to end, I want it to end with you next to me so hang on just a little more.”

whether it’s the pain, exhaust from the poison or you simply finding a sense of calm for the first time in a good while, you don’t know but it nevertheless leads you to slowly give into unconsciousness.

the last thing you just barely manage catching is a feather-light kiss to your forehead and a tenderly spoken assurance,

“I’ll be back before you know it. I promise.”

who knows how long it’s been? probably no one, but long enough for the screen of your wristband to meet you with three now full, red hearts as soon as you wake up.

you stare at your hands curled up right in front of your face and even though your vision isn’t clear enough after sleeping, you can still make out how they’re free from bruises, wounds and dusts. furthermore, it’s quiet. uncomfortably quiet, purely because you’re not used to a sound clean from explosions and other rumbling noises. it confuses you for a second and you start wondering if there’s been a restart. however, realizing that you’re still in the same, unknown bedroom as before and remembering that you have yet to go through the ending of the game, you know it’s still not over.

barely daring to look away from your hands even the slightest bit, you think for yourself, “if it’s not over, what’s going o-”

“finally up, sleeping beauty?”

a sharp gasp emits from you as you hear this and within moments, you’re sitting back up in the bed. by the edge of it, he sits; the window invites the morning sun you haven’t seen in what feels like a lifetime, its light illuminating his face in gentle shade of orange; a smile graces his lips and even under strands of hair, the gleam in his eyes is clear, bright upon finally seeing your own open.

four seconds. that’s what it takes for you to process that, as unfamiliar as this scene is after playing the game so many times, it actually is minho sitting right next to you, in person, pure flesh and blood. four seconds is what it takes until you launch yourself at him, arms tightly wrapping around his neck, face digging into the crook of it.

you take a deep breath, inhaling the scent you’ve grown fond of after spending so much time with minho. when you don’t say anything, he asks, “don’t wanna know what happened?”

you shake your head. “I don’t care.”

an airy chuckle escapes minho. his arms wrap around your waist and hold you closer to him and while starting to explain anyway, he unconsciously starts swinging your bodies from side to side. “believe it or not, that stupid player unlocked the secret ending.”

though confused, you don’t bother moving the slightest bit while humming in confusion. he doesn’t either and instead continues, “turns out if you beat the game in critical mode and gather all trophies, you unlock the secret ending.”

“and... what exactly happens in the secret ending?”

“in the secret ending...” minho murmurs, “the whole team survives.” as if on cue, loud yelling and laughters can suddenly be heard outside the bedroom. you’re barely aware of it though as he pulls away, just enough to get a look of your face. “the city can rebuild again...” he momentarily glances to the side where the window shows an unusually peaceful view. you follow his gaze, though only until his index finger and thumb takes a hold of your chin, turning you back to face him. “and you and me...”

with the current being through and through unknown to you, you find yourself growing more nervous than ever. when his thumb just barely grazes your bottom lip, your breath hitches and hands drop down to his shoulders, tightly grabbing onto them.

the time minho spends on leaning closer feels painfully long and yet, you’re barely aware of exactly when the barely existent gap eventually is shut. his lips are soft against your own, slowly moving against them. the feeling of it alters between the one of featherlight, pure pecks and long, passionate kisses and you can swear it’ll drive you insane right there and then.

you don’t though. instead, you can only melt under the touch, the loving hold around you leaving you in a serenity in the finest sense of the word.

when you eventually part, minho’s hand travels upwards to tuck stray hair behind your ear as he looks at you with a smile bigger than you’ve ever seen on him,

“stay together.”

maybe, just maybe, this game isn’t so bad after all.

[virryth]

Magician of the Empire | Jeonghan AU

The infamous grand magician has a soft spot for the queen’s knight.

1k+ | fluff, Magician Jeonghan x Knight female reader

tw// mentions of death

Author’s note: happy 25th birthday yoon jjongjjong ❤️

Read more SVT AUs | Masterlist

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You’re never one for parties. 

The empire has won the war, at long last, and if the celebration had not been required, you would have forgo tonight for another training session with your knights.

But instead, your hair is pulled back into a half bun, soft waves falling on your shoulders as simple jewelry adorn your collarbones. Your dress feels stuffy and the corset hugs your waist a little too snug. But it’s the trend! Your fellow knight had said as she tightened the lace on the torture device, the grand magician will be pleased!

Except you are not here to please any man. The queen, a dear benefactor you adored and admired, had extended her invitation, and only for her will you be on your best behavior at the gala tonight. 

Truly, you would rather go back to the armored uniform of your ranks. This is really… not you. You make a mental note to utilize this painful corset method the next time any of your troops fall out of line.

“There you are, my lady.” 

You turn to the beaming face of the man you were hoping to avoid. Yoon Jeonghan. 

The grand magician gleams at you, piercing fiery eyes flutter beneath his silver locks of hair. He was adorn in a white robe with gold trims to match his eyes, and he looks as stunning as usual, though you’d never dare say it out-loud--the vocabulary he’s used to hearing from you is frivolous at best. He approaches you with a smile beautiful enough to capture the entirety of the empire and all of its inhabitants.

“I’ve been looking for you, my dear.”

“Do not jest me, magician.” You turn your back on the man and step towards the garden, “I have neither the time nor patient to entertain you today.”

You half expected him to follow, but you didn't hear footsteps until you were far away from the main ballroom. And suddenly, you’re floating, feet dangling in the air as your body glides across the daisy field, straight on to the bench in the middle of the extensive terrain. 

The magician loves playing trick on you despite how regal he may seem. He loves pulling pranks, cheating his way out of his duty, and popping in and out of the palace as he pleases that not even the king can put a stop to his mischievous behaviors. At first, it irritated you to no end how irresponsible and carefree he seems, running around in the queen’s garden with his little subordinates as if he owns the place. What kind of frivolous man dares to visit the queen quarter without permission?

Eventually, you’ve learned to just let it go per the queen’s request. 

“He doesn’t mean any harm, my dear.” She had said on one of those days where you could no longer hide your annoyance. “The grand magician is like a son to me. As someone who often has to deal with the darker side of humanity, sometimes he just wants to be a child.”

And a child he portrays. He had accompanied you to the war and had lived through many months of hardship with you. The blood of the enemy splattered on his face is far more than the amount on your hand as a knight. The cruelty of war has given you a new perspective on the grand magician, and you now know his true self is much deeper than the surface he paints.

“Please stay,” he whispers before you manage to stand, “just five minutes.”

“Two.” 

“Four.”

“Two minutes.”

“Fine,” the magician concedes, “three minutes is all I’ll ask.”

“Fine.”

He leans against your shoulder in earnest and takes your hand in his, imbuing magic into your soul, and you watch as the blue and gold sparks glow like fireflies dancing up your arms. You’ve gotten used to this feeling, the aching warm that soothes your injuries as magic flows into your heart, but it doesn’t make it any easier. 

“You should let me heal you more often, what will you do the moment I am away for more than a week?”

“I won’t die.”

His gentle laughter sends vibrations all over your arm as he joyously intertwined his fingers with yours. 

“My dear,” his voice is soft like the lullaby you dream of when you were younger, but the urgency and sincerity in his tone makes you tremble slightly. “Please never say that you will leave this world, even as a joke.” 

You owe your life to the magician who put the fragmented pieces of your soul together on the battlefield, and you’re grateful to him. But sometimes you don’t know if the feelings you have are just out of gratitude or genuine affections for him. You won’t die if he’s not with you, truth be told, there are plenty of capable magicians in the continent, yet he’s the only person you have ever allowed help. The magic sustains your life, but also depletes his, and one day this burden will be too much for you to shoulder. 

“If I die one day,” he starts.

“You will not.”

“Well, all humans die, don’t they? Someday you and I, too, will perish from this world.”

You don’t want to imagine a world without Yoon Jeonghan. Your routines would simply be overturned. No one to annoy you at breakfast, nor before the sun sets over the mountain as you gaze out your window. No one to pick you up despite your protest whenever you’re needed in the magic tower. A life without Yoon Jeonghan would simply be… boring, not that you hold any sort of romantic affections for him. And not that he easily lowers your guard just by staying next to you.

“When I die,” he starts again, squeezing your hands to stop you from cutting him off once more, “will you be by my side until I take my last breath?”

“I won’t let you die.”

“That is not what I asked--”

“I won’t let you die,” you repeat plainly. “I’ll kill you myself before you can leave me. And didn’t you just tell me not to joke about that?”

He laughs, the vibration from his body makes you blush and you hope it’s too dark in the garden for him to see. 

“How reassuring that I’ll be able to see your face when that moment comes.”

The autumn breeze gets a bit chilly in a dress, and you snuggle closer to him, pretending to have forgotten the three minutes that have long expired.

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Read more SVT AUs | Masterlist 

[psychosistr]

Meet Me Halfway- Chapter 1

Summary: Dr.Reginald Bushroot, a meek, not-overly-attractive botanist, considers his life fairly boring and lacking of anything noteworthy....well, except for a certain liquid-themed supervillain who seems to take a liking to him- THAT may be a LITTLE noteworthy..

Notes:  So, ages ago I read @sandyferal ‘s story Halfway There on AO3 (go read it, it's SO good xD) and said in the comments that I liked their version of the two meeting with Bushroot mutated and Buddy unmutated, and that if no one else wrote the opposite, then I'd probably do it. Well, here we are xD

Ah, the scenic countryside of Saint Canard: Large open spaces. Fresh air. Trees and uncut green grass as far as the eye could see. It was probably one of the most natural areas around for miles and miles. The only thing that stood out as remotely man-made was the gleaming glass of a small building- and even THAT was full of more lovely, all-natural vegetation and greenery.

Walking up the path to the greenhouse on the hill was a short male duck who looked far too glum for such a lovely backdrop. He had white feathers, but those looked thin and unkempt- similar to the few wispy strands of hair that seemed to only refuse falling out just so they could give him the unfortunate appearance of age even further than his own. He had bright blue eyes, but the eyelids around them were dark with a few bags under his eyes that just made him look exhausted. Even his basic outfit of a yellow shirt, dark tie, blue pants, simple shoes, and a gray overcoat only seemed to make him look both older and more exhausted from how rumpled they looked.

After fishing the keys to the greenhouse out of his pocket, and a brief fumbling with the lock, the duck walked into the greenhouse with a weary sigh. “Hey everyone, sorry I’m late.” He mumbled while taking off his coat and hanging it on a tree branch. “You must be thirsty, huh? This heatwave’s been hard on all of us.” He headed straight for the gardening hose in the corner of the greenhouse while rolling up his sleeves, unsurprised by the lack of a response from the various flora around him.

What he was surprised by, however, was the fact that the hose had come uncoiled since he’d last wrapped it yesterday. Wondering if maybe he’d just forgotten to wind it up properly, the duck took a brief look around the humid building and was surprised to see that the soil around most of the plants looked damp- as if it had just been watered.

“Huh? How the heck did that happen?” He quietly asked nobody in particular. Setting the hose aside, he followed the trail of watered plants and a glistening trail of dew on the grass from one end of the small building to the other.

It certainly looked like someone had been watering his plants, but who could have done such a thing? And why? It’s not like that many people took an interest in botany in this town- most of them worked down at the university with him (and most of that select few were jerks)- and, even if it were one of them, he was the only one with a key to the greenhouse. Maybe it was Rhoda? The two of them had been getting along rather well lately, maybe she-

That thought quickly died and gave way to a million more when he pushed aside a large leaf from one of his bushes and spotted the helpful culprit kneeling down by his cluster of nigella damascena.

It certainly wasn’t Rhoda.

It wasn’t even a duck.

He wasn’t really sure WHAT it was.

Startled by the sight of the oddity in his greenhouse, the duck tried to step back the way he came in hopes of running away without being seen, but his plans were uprooted- by a literal root, no less. “Ah!” He let out a startled yelp when the heel of his shoe snagged the root of a nearby tree and he fell to the ground, landing squarely on his quickly bruising tail feathers. “Ouch! I’ll feel that in the morning..” He mumbled while rubbing his sore backside, momentarily forgetting about the intruder he’d just been avoiding.

“Well now,” A watery voice said as a blue, nearly see-through hand pulled back the very same leaf that the duck himself had been peeking through a moment ago. “Let’s see what’s behind curtain number one!”

With the leaf gone, the duck could now see the creature even more clearly: It was a being made entirely out of water. From its features, it was likely a canine of some kind before…whatever happened to turn it into some weird water monster. It was also taller than the duck (which, honestly, didn’t take much with how short he was), making the way it looked down on him with a taunting smirk and a raised brow even more intimidating.

“I-I was just, uh-!” The smaller man stared up at the unknown water-creature in fear, trying to slide further away from it but wincing when his bruised tail bone hit one of the thicker roots nearby. “Yeowch!”

“In a rush to get away? Experiencing symptoms of fear and anxiety?” The liquid canine sounded like a door-to-door salesman as he extended one of his limbs to pick the smaller duck up by the collar of his shirt. “If so, then you may be dealing with a SUPERVILLAIN!” He flashed that deadly smirk up at the helpless duck once he had him raised high up off the ground. “As part of today’s peeping-tom special, say your last words now and you will meet a swift and painless end- act now, this is a limited time offer!”

The duck was frightened. Obviously. How could he not be? He was dealing with a living body of water that seemed perfectly fine with ending him simply for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. While he really didn’t want to die, there was one thought that crossed his mind between boring flashes of his life and fits of existential panic-

“C-Can you make sure my plants are watered when I’m gone…?” He stuttered a bit at first, trying in vain to grasp onto the shifting liquid arm currently holding him up in an attempt to feel more stable.

“??” That actually made the aggressive mutant pause, blink twice in surprise, and look up at him with a more baffled expression than his previously sinister one. “Your plants?”

“Well, yeah..” The duck looked around at the variety of lovingly cultivated greenery across the building. “These guys require frequent watering- especially when it’s this hot out! I was worried some of them would start to wilt before I got to it today, but you helped them out a lot. You even got the ratios right for the more temperamental ones, so, thank you.”

The dog still looked confused by the duck’s words. “Wait, wait, wait.” He cocked a brow up at his hostage, though it was more curious than threatening like it was before. “You’re being threatened by a dangerous mutant- one that broke into your building, by the way- and you’re going to compliment and ask favors from him?”

“Um.........yes?” The duck answered hesitantly. “I mean, I’d rather you NOT kill me, but if I’m going to die I’d at least like to know that my plants will be okay and you seem to like them- OW!” He let out a startled yelp that turned into a pained groan when he suddenly fell to the ground. “Owww, did you have to drop me like that?” He whimpered while placing both hands on his sore back, feeling like something had been pulled the wrong way during the fall.

“Oh, not again..” He heard the mutant mutter quietly, his voice almost inaudible.

When the bruised and sore mallard looked back up at the mutant, he was surprised to see that he was missing an arm now- the arm that had been holding him up earlier, to be precise. The aquatic dog was also glaring ruefully down at a small puddle of water on the ground between himself and the duck. He kept glaring at it for a while, but it looked more like he was concentrating. Perhaps he was trying to get the water to do something?

It was then that the duck realized a few other parts of the mutant’s body didn’t look very stable at the moment and were dripping down into a growing puddle where his feet would be.

Despite the fact that mere seconds ago this mutant had been perfectly at peace with ending the duck’s life, he couldn’t help but ask the question on reflex.

“Are you alright?” He carefully got to his feet, using the tree he’d tripped over earlier for balance so as not to further agitate his back.

“Just experiencing some technical difficulties.” The increasingly drippy mass complained as he continued glaring at the puddle that was still growing around him.

“Is there anything I can do?” The duck asked after popping a stiff joint in his back and relieving some of his discomfort. “Do you, I don’t know, need more water or something?”

“Probably..” The mutant muttered absentmindedly. It wasn’t until the duck had walked away and returned after a few moments that he finally looked back at the other man since dropping him, and the sight of him holding a garden hose that was already swelling with the pressure of an unreleased stream made him let out a mildly amused but pitiful chuckle. “You know, nine out of ten doctors would advise against helping dangerous supervillains who just tried to kill you.”

“Then it’s a good thing for you that I’m the tenth doctor.” The duck joked with a nervous smile before twisting the nozzle on the hose to release a steady stream straight at the living puddle.

The extra dose of water seemed to do the trick and soon the watery villain was back to his previous form. After moving and flexing his arms and hands a few times to make sure they were stable again, he looked back to the duck with a tilt of his head. “You know, I could go back to attacking you now.”

“I-I know..” The shorter man turned off the hose when it looked like the taller one no longer needed his help and set it aside. “But…do you really want to?” He offered up that nervous smile again, hoping that would be enough to convince the canine to spare his life.

The dangerous dog stared him down for a good minute before letting out a light huff and shaking his head. “Not really. That was a limited time offer that’s already expired.”

The duck sighed in relief. “Oh, good.” There was an awkward, tense silence for a while between them. A distinctive “What now?” moment weighed heavily between them. What are you supposed to say/do after nearly killing/nearly being killed by a complete stranger and then being saved by/saving said stranger? “So…uh…what’s your name?” The duck tried to break the ice, cringing internally at how forced the politeness sounded.

“Names are still being run through a test audience.” The dog said before leaning back against one of the trees. “But ‘The Liquidator’ seems to be scoring well on the customer surveys.”

“The Liquidator? Wow, that does sound like a cool name for a supervillain.” The duck smiled a bit, still feeling reasonably nervous around the villainous mass of liquid. “My name’s Dr.Bushroot, but you can call me Reginald, if you want.”

The Liquidator gave a light huff of a laugh and smiled back slightly as well. “Dr.Bushroot? Quite a marketable name for a botanist- you should try making your own miracle grow, consumers would go crazy for ‘Dr.Bushroot’s Plant Medicine- just what the doctor ordered’!”

Bushroot laughed as well, his face lighting up with a less nervous smile. “I never thought of that. Then again, I don’t exactly have a good face for TV.”

“Oh, that’s easy enough to fix.” Liquidator reached over and poked at Bushroot’s head. “A little make-up, a decent toupee, and a catchy jingle can sell anything, trust me!” He chuckled before catching himself and glancing away. “Not that I ever needed to wear make-up or a toupee, of course- I’ve always been a top ten contender for ‘best looking men in business’, so I never needed to go to those kinds of lengths…” His eyes shifted back over to Bushroot and narrowed dangerously. “Making any claims otherwise will void the extended-warranty on your life, got it?”

“G-Got it..” Bushroot swallowed nervously before regaining a bit of his earlier expression. “Besides, even if you DID do that-” He quickly held up both hands and shook his head to show he wasn’t suggesting otherwise. “-does it look like I’ve got any room to judge? I’m not exactly a Mr.Corn-Fritters’ pageant finalist..”

“Hmm..maybe not a finalist..” The other man agreed with a slow nod while looking the short bird over slowly from head to toe. Whatever he saw, he seemed to like, however, because the smile he regained had something a bit more..enticing to it than before. “Perhaps a runner up, though.”

“Huh?” Bushroot blinked in surprise before waving the comment off with a short laugh, figuring it for a joke. “Ha-ha, good one.” A beep from his watch made him check his wrist and realize the time. “Oh! I need to finish watering everything so I can get started on the weeding.”

When he went to pick up the hose, however, a cool, wet hand stopped him. He looked up into the crystal-clear face above him and saw that same grin from before, now coupled with a wink. “Why deal with the hassle of clunky dollar-store garden hoses when you’ve got the amazingly mobile and purified-powers of the Liquidator at your disposal?”

“Really?” Bushroot blinked in surprise at the generous offer.

Liquidator’s smile softened slightly at the edges, but he tried to play it off with a casual shrug. “It’s the least I can do after my rude introduction. A good salesman should always show respect for the man of the house, after all!”

“Well, if you’re sure, that would be great. Thanks!” He gave his new acquaintance (possibly friend?) the brightest smile yet before running off to get his gardening gloves from the supply locker in the corner of the room.

“…......” With his back turned to his new intruder-turned-acquaintance, Bushroot missed the stunned look on the mutant’s face that slowly morphed into a fond smile. “No thanks are needed- I pride myself on quality customer service, after all.”

As the two began their individual assignments within the greenhouse, Bushroot decided to get to know his new friend (he was allowed to be hopeful, darn it). “Sooo…a supervillain, huh? What made you want to go into that line of work?” He tried to get the conversation drumming up again with basic small-talk while pulling some weeds that had sprung up around his rose bushes.

Liquidator glanced over his shoulder at the small scientist and gestured to his body with one hand, his other one currently transformed into a facsimile of a watering can as he went about watering the plants he had not gotten to before Bushroot’s arrival. “One look at this one-of-a-kind product should answer all your questions about my new career path.”

“O-Oh, right, sorry…” Bushroot’s face heated up in embarrassment- he supposed that should have been an easy answer to come to, he just hadn’t thought of it before opening his mouth. “I haven’t seen you on the news before, are you new in town?” That one felt a bit safer to talk about.

“New to town in general? No. New to town as the incredible aquatic supervillain known as ‘the Liquidator’? Yes.” Liquidator explained while sprinkling water over a cluster of vines. “I haven’t quite had my big break as a supervillain yet- I’m saving THAT for a special occasion.” He let out an irritated growl when his hand lost its previous watering-can shape and he glared at it for a moment. “And for when this body’s out of beta testing…” That part caught Bushroot’s attention, he wondered ho- “And if you’re about to ask how I became the tall drink of water you see now, I’m afraid that’s going to be voiding a few confidentiality agreements, so save that question for a rainy day.”

Shoot, he really wanted to hear that story…

Wait, he said it could wait for another day? Did that mean he would be seeing him again after today? Did that make them friends??

“Okay…” He tried not to let on how excited and hopeful he felt over that prospect- it had been so long since he’d actually had a friend! “How’d you get in here, anyway?”

“You’re choosing NOW to ask that?” Liquidator chuckled after finally getting his hand back to its previous shape so he could continue his work. “You know, most people would want THAT answer first.” He shook his head with an amused grin before pointing at the gardening hose that Bushroot himself had used to assist him earlier. “I wanted some fresh air, and this was the first exit I found that didn’t smell like bleach or a petting zoo. Like any good salesman, I knocked first, but nobody was home.”

“That’s because I got held up at work.” Bushroot explained with a frustrated frown and roughly pulled out a weed from a different spot in his garden. “The dean keeps calling me in for meetings, wanting to see if I’ve made any new breakthroughs.” His frustration turned to disappointment as he paused in his work. “At this point, I think he’s just calling me in to rub my failures in my face…”

“It’s always hard getting someone to invest in your ideas…” Bushroot’s back was to Liquidator again as he worked, so he missed the sympathetic frown on Liquidator’s face as he looked at the other man. “What sort of research are you working on?” He asked while bringing himself around casually to water the shrub next to the one that Bushroot was currently rescuing from the weeds at its base.

“Oh, it’s nothing special..” The duck said with a sigh that sounded defeated before he even began. “You wouldn’t really want to hear about it….”

“Oh, but I do!” He lowered his form with some difficulty so that his feetless legs were kneeling by Bushroot, putting him at eye-level with the botanist so he could see the grin on the dog’s face. “Hearing out every unusual or impossible theory and business plan was part of what made me a success in my previous line of work. So, please, inquiring minds are eager to know: What brilliant breakthrough is the soon-to-be-famous Dr. Reginald Bushroot working on?”

Bushroot really wanted to dismiss the question altogether. He’d had enough of his coworkers laughing at him, he didn’t need it from anyone else…

…………

But there was just something in the way that Liquidator looked at him that made it hard for him to deny him anything.

“Well..” Bushroot began after a minute, still a bit hesitant but pushing himself past the feelings of doubt and uncertainty he was so used to. “I’ve been conducting research on how to give people the ability to photosynthesize and live off of sunlight and water like plants.”

Liquidator’s eyes widened in surprise, looking genuinely shocked to hear such a thing. “That’s actually possible?”

The way he said it made a warm feeling bloom in Bushroot’s chest: It was a sincere question. The disbelief in his voice came from surprise that someone would be able to make such a thing reality, rather than the mocking disbelief that such a thing would ever be possible- the disbelief that he was used to hearing when he told people about his work. The only other person who had ever shown genuine interest in his theories was Rhoda, and she was a fellow scientist who could look at his findings and research from a logical perspective- not like this stranger who didn’t appear to have a background in botanical research (though he was good at judging how much water his plants needed, so he must have at least worked with them at some point).

“Yes, it is.” He was practically beaming as he turned to fully face his new friend and go more in-depth with his explanation. “We already get a few minerals from drinking water and absorb radiation from the sun to create vitamin D, but plants are able to get all of that plus many other benefits from things like the very air around us. All it should take is the right infusion of plant cells into a person’s body and they should be able to gain the extra nutrients from water and sunlight that plants get- not to mention the ability to breathe in carbon dioxide and exhale oxygen would really help cut down on the world’s growing pollution problem. It’s been my life’s work, and I’m very close to a major breakthrough in my research!” He realized towards the end of his explanation that he’d gotten overly excited and had started leaning in closer to the water dog. Quickly becoming embarrassed, he backed off and rubbed at the back of his neck nervously while avoiding eye contact. “Sorry, that was a bit too much, wasn’t it?”

He was surprised by the feeling of a cool, wet hand on his shoulder. When he looked back up to meet the dark blue pools that made up the other’s eyes, he saw a genuine, understanding smile on the mutant’s face. “Not at all. Passion is the driving force behind many great breakthroughs and achievements in life. If you’re not passionate about what you do, how can you expect others to get invested in it?” The hand on Bushroot’s shoulder gave it a firm, reassuring squeeze. “Never give that up, Dr.Bushroot.”

The duck felt his heart skip a beat the same way it did whenever Rhoda stood up for him in front of his colleagues- the same way it did when she smiled at him and listened to him about his research. Maybe he just liked having someone believe in him. Maybe he was just touch-starved and feeling the weight of someone else’s hand on him, even if it was made of water and not quite as warm as one made of flesh and bone, was enough to make him feel a connection with someone.

Or maybe, just maybe, he really was forming a genuine connection with the watery supervillain who had broken into his greenhouse and threatened his life.

“C-Call me Reggie.” He managed to say after swallowing down a lump in his throat and fighting to keep the blush from his cheeks (his thin feathers wouldn’t have done much to hide the change in pigmentation).

“Reggie,” The Liquidator began with a grin that spread quickly across his blue face. “I think this is the beginning of a wonderful new relationship!”

Bushroot hadn’t agreed with anything (or smiled) more in his entire life.

Next Chapter->

End Notes:  So, just a heads up, this is another one of my Halloween "trick or treat" stories, so it's a WIP that may be a while before I fully update ^^"

[camxnoel-updates]

Hardship happens fast, recovery is a slow process.

‘’Look, I’m an extremely private person. I generally shy away from sharing personal information, especially sensitive or vulnerable parts of my life. I feel like many actors are this way, opting to reveal their emotional centers through the lens of character and performance rather than in black and white. But I’ve got nothing but time during the Great Pause of our World, the corona days. I’m well aware my personal story is not a tale of hardship or woe even close to the level of a worldwide pandemic, but perhaps someone may hear my story and appreciate it.

A little over six months ago, I was playing soccer. A break up that led to an emotionally draining on-again-off-again relationship dynamic had finally ended for good a couple days prior. Perhaps this was why I was trying to distract myself so heavily with athletics. I can’t say for certain, but maybe I overworked and weakened my leg with constant running, jumping, twisting. I had played tennis earlier this particular Sunday morning, went for a run, and still felt restless. So I hopped into a pickup soccer match.

It’s incredible how quickly fortune can change; priorities shift in mere seconds. An instant can color the rest of your life. This is exactly what happened when I felt soccer cleats on the side of my shin and heard a loud, distinct crack coming from inside my body. My opponent had leaped onto the center of my lower leg in what I’ll phrase charitably as a rough tackle. I felt his foot pass through my body and knew it was broken before I even hit the deck. I looked down to see my leg at very odd and unnatural angles, being held together by my shin guard like a strip of duct tape strangling a bursting pipe.

One 911 call and several shots of fentanyl and morphine later, I was in the back of an ambulance calling the Shameless production office telling them they’re going to need to re-open the writer’s room and make some changes. I was genuinely more upset at this point about my work being affected than my own body. In my nearly twenty years of acting, I had never missed a day on set, no matter how deathly ill I had been. However, my sock and shoe had been snipped off by the paramedics by this point, and I was able to see that the only thing attaching the lower portion of my limb was some muscle and sinew. My foot and ankle had fully turned around 180 degrees and were now facing south. One of my bones poked and prodded under the surface of my skin, desperately trying to make a jailbreak. So I figured I might not be able to film that scene the next morning.

An x-ray revealed that both my tibia and fibula, two of the largest and slowest healing bones in the body, had snapped cleanly in half. By this point I had called some of the people closest to me. I can’t describe the relief I felt as my friends, my makeshift family, filtered in and out of the hospital room. The warmth and calm that washed over me at the site of their faces accomplished what all the opioids had failed to do. They brought clothes and toiletries, they told jokes, they held my hand.

It took three nurses holding me down and two doctors to twist my leg back around and wrench it into place. A few days later, they cut me open and installed a 16 inch titanium rod through the center of my bone, bolted securely into place. Few more days and I was released from the hospital. I stayed at my manager’s house and later with my angel of a coworker, Shanola Hampton, and her family.

And I gained some perspective. Of what it means to take things for granted. To be able to roll a garbage can to the curb, or pick up a napkin which has fallen to the ground, or hop out of bed without excruciating pain. Life is delicate, health is fragile, and we’re all a bunch of pressurized bags of squishy meat with very limited expiration dates.

To be able to leap and dance and roughhouse is so much of who I am. Up to this point, I had considered it integral to my identity, my fundamental personhood. Physical autonomy is a privilege most able-bodied people don’t even realize they have. And as I had mentioned before, I’m a very private person. Moreover, I view myself as extremely self-sufficient and self-reliant. And there was no worse vulnerability than having to lean on other people for help (sometimes literally.) Yet here I was in this situation, where basic chores and tasks were no longer accomplishable without my friends. My beautiful friends.

And it truly hit me. The importance of community. The value of being there for people when they need you, and of accepting support when you need it. No man is an island. Who we are is not only defined by what we do but also the people who we choose to fill our lives with. There’s nothing like a little suffering to boost your empathy. My injury wasn’t even that serious in the scheme of things, but I gained a greater appreciation for the people who stepped up for me during this time, and recognized some of the people who didn’t. Choose kindness, fill your life with people who value the right things.

I wish I could say that it was a linear line of positivity, progress, and healing from there. I wish I could say that I never relapsed, never felt bitter. Most days were good. But some days I wallowed in self-pity, I drank, I hated the misfortune with a bitter passion. The banality of not being able to do the things you want can ache with a boring dullness that stings far more than the initial hurt of the injury itself. But eventually I learned new ways to entertain myself, placed greater importance on other pursuits and shifted my priorities. I’m thankful for the last half of a year simply for opening my eyes to the obvious things I had been missing.

Now, six months of physical therapy and personal training and healthy living later, and I am almost fully recovered. Yesterday I walked for 5 miles, jogged up hills, even sprinted a few times. It still hurts a bit, but I’m almost fully back. And I have faith I’ll be completely on my feet (bad pun) in the next couple months.

I guess that’s why I wanted to share this story. The world is injured right now. People are hurting and dying in an exceptional and awful way, the economy is in bad shape, many people’s jobs are on the line. So much of the things we so easily took for granted are not currently available to us. I hope the Earth takes this time to shift its priorities, to understand the joys of simple things we cannot currently do like going to a restaurant with friends or hugging your relatives. I hope if people have the means, they can give to those suffering in some way. I hope we as a nation choose kindness, charity, and positivity during this period. I hope we don’t rush this or selfishly leave our homes when we shouldn’t. I hope we protect those most vulnerable.

Healing requires time, it demands patience. This all happened suddenly. But that’s the thing: Hardships happen fast, recovery is a slow process.’’

via Cameron Monaghan’s blog.