#like LISTEN I thought this was SCI-FI and now the DEVIL is there???

[its-your-mind]

That, if I am not mistaken, is the Devil, Son.

- the first thing Dad said that actually really broke my brain

[thiniceofeternalyouth]

MISLEADIN' ME SERIES: CHAPTER TWELVE

THIEF OF THREE DESTINIES

⊳ Gojo Satoru x f!reader

series masterlist

Genre: angst, fluff, sci-fi, cosmology.

Words count: ~13k

⊲ previous

[July 1, 2020; 02:17am; hunters' hq]

[02:01] You: Megumi's back, he's fine

Delivered.

Unread.

[02:11] You: u ok?

Delivered.

Unread.

Gojo wasn't answering your calls either. You were drowning in an abyss of intrusive thoughts, each one worse than the last. Was he okay? If he was all right, why was he silent? Such silence was like the silence of a dead man - just as endlessly cold.

You stirred, pushing the images away from you and setting the phone aside. Maybe that was your lesson to learn. Wasn't that what he meant by loneliness?

There was nothing left of Kyle, not even his cold corpse was honored to rest deep underground. His image along with the vague tracings of his voice seemed to beg you not to forget him, but you knew that every image and every melancholy has a year later. Eventually, a wave of new memories would erase his still-green eyes. 

The moral compass had been broken, trampled, torn to pieces. In which direction should the lost traveler go now? This entire time traveler had been walking along the dark side of the moon towards the calling sun - towards something bright and warm. Where would the road lead if the sun was stolen?

"Meg," you called out detachedly. "Asleep?"

"No," replied the mechanical voice.

"I have a riddle."

"I'm listening."

"There are two hunters," you began, staring blankly at the black monitor screen. "One is experienced, the other is a newbie. They were surrounded by demons, the experienced one was killed, and the newbie survived. What kinda a case is this?"

"The newbie was with the demons," Meg replied without hesitation or questioning intonation.

"Think again," you said, admonishing more yourself than the artificial intelligence.

Meg was silent, but it was as if you could hear her digging through the informational bowels of universal human knowledge, and she was doing it so fast that it would take you a lifetime to absorb that much information. "Hmm...," Meg drawled. "The messengers don't get killed?"

"The messengers don't get killed," you confirmed in a whisper, watching in the extinguished monitor as your eyes went black.

You didn't even notice that you had chewed your own thumb to a bloody pulp. Those devils knew everything. From start to finish. They knew you'd broken into a settlement, knew which one, knew that Kyle would be going instead of you that day. So where was the rat lurking? Was it one of the people in the void? Or was it one of the people who lived in the house?

Knock-knock.

Your only task was to keep your head down. You knew exactly what they were after, and they seemed to be getting close. Every day it became harder for you to control the turns of the invisible blades embedded in your body. You wiped the moisture from your dark eyes with a sharp movement, and making sure you looked like anyone else, you walked to the door.

A pair of sad, frightened child's eyes greeted you. "Why ya still awake?" you asked Yuuji tiredly, trying to maintain a neutral, if not positive, attitude. The boy looked down at first, before peeking over your shoulder. "Okay, come in," you surrendered, throwing up your hands.

He walked hesitantly over to your bed and sat down on the very edge. It looked like he was about to fall to the floor. "I... I brought something," Itadori began in a shaky voice and reached into his pocket with the same hands. "I think...," he stammered, and you could see him literally chewing the inside of his cheeks. "I'm sorry, but I don't think you should have thrown it away," he stated in an already firm voice, looking you dead in the eye. In his outstretched hand lay a silver bracelet, mockingly sparkling. "Especially in the trash can," boy added more quietly, trying to hide from you again. "It's a memory."  

"I've never complained about my memory," you said, shrugging.

"That's not the point!" he protested, and the bracelet almost fell out of his hand. Itadori immediately pressed it to his chest. "Don't you wanna have a piece of him always near you? It's very precious," he whispered, pressing the jewelry harder against his chest.

"This thing's worth 20 bucks."

"Don't you dare say that," Itadori hissed. His fear faded away, making way for anger at the words you had said. "Take it!" he ordered, holding out the jewelry to you again. "Take it, now!"

It was the one shining thing that didn't make you want to take it or steal it. You walked over to the bed and sat down next to the boy, and you had no time for inner cries and agonizing - you couldn't show weakness in front of anyone. As soon as you took the bracelet in your hands, you felt like the ultimate fool. Why did you throw it away in the first place? It had never been a soulless piece of metal, at least not since you'd put it on your brother's arm.

You glanced around the workroom. Kyle wasn't here anymore, and he never would be. Maybe you'd never see him again, or maybe he'd see you in hell.

Along with everyone else.

"Thank ya," you smiled weakly but sincerely at Itadori. Maybe he sensed it, maybe he heard it in your voice, but he fidgeted restlessly, dropping his gaze to the floor again.

"What are you thanking me for...? I yelled at you. I'm sorry," he mumbled, and the swollen red face was drawn again with sorrow. Where is the artist who painted such things on children's faces? Maybe if you ripped their heart out, you'd feel a little better.

You wrapped your fingers around Yuji's chin, making him look up at you. "For being more mature than me today," you tried to wipe away the tears that had started streaming down his cheeks before you'd even finished speaking. He snuggled into your shoulder, muffling the tearing sobs. You didn't pay attention to how wet your sweatshirt was from his tears and snot, only gently stroking his back. "It's gonna be okay," you repeated the words like a mantra straight into the pink top of his head.

His body was clearly exhausted, and he collapsed in your arms. Yuji seemed to have cried for so long that all the water had gone out of his organism. "Try to get some sleep, 'kay?" you said, adjusting the pillow on the bed with your hand. At his exhausted questioning look, you shrugged. "Ya can go to your room if ya want. It's just that I remember ya saying it's quieter at my place."

You patted him on the top of his head and got up from the bed, heading back to the computer chair. A murmur behind you made you chuckle quietly - apparently Itadori had made his choice. "Y/N?" he addressed you quietly, covering himself with a blanket. You hummed questioningly. "You didn't call sensei?"

You didn't want to disturb an already wounded young heart. "He's busy right now, so I didn't bother him with the news," you said evasively. "Just texted him to say that Megumi is fine. Now go back to sleep."

A fresh morning breeze wandered through the room, taking all the memories with it as it made its way back through the window into the freedom of the bay. There really wasn't much stuff - you only needed three boxes to pack all of Kyle's clothes. Was it always this black and gray, or had you stopped perceiving colors?

You folded another T-shirt carefully, deliberately slow. After all, this was the last day you'd ever been this close to him. As you put the folded T-shirt in the box, you glanced at the unopened men's perfume on the bedside table. Would anyone need it now?

When you picked up the black sweatshirt, the door clicked open. The fresh air in the room was instantly freezing, chilling to the bone. Rachel was like the walking dead, even the large eyes on her gaunt face showed no signs of life. She stood on the other side of the bed, across from you, staring blankly at the sweatshirt you were holding.

You tentatively held it out to Rachel, and she took the sweatshirt in her hands after a few more seconds of staring blankly at the space. "Um...," you began quietly, watching her go through the clothes in her hands. "I packed everything here, so... When ya go to Hopetown, bring it with ya, 'kay?"  

Rachel covered her eyes for a moment, her nose buried in the sweater as if she hadn't heard you at all. You looked away awkwardly and headed for the exit. "Ya're going too," she demanded in a strangled voice.

You sighed convulsively and turned around - Rachel was still standing with her back to you. "Rach, I don't have time to stand by a tombstone that doesn't even have a body underneath it." 

Everything froze. Your ears heard nothing, your eyes saw nothing. Your skin felt neither wind nor touch. Even your memory stopped - all the images melted away, spreading out into the obscurity.

You came to your senses from the impact of your head hitting the floor. Rachel was on top of you, clutching your throat with both hands - she must have been doing it for a long time because your chest was already cramping helplessly. Certain places on your body were aching desperately, especially your ribs and cheekbones. "Rach," you wheezed, grasping weakly at her wrists.

She held it all in not making a sound, and you could have sworn you could see the muscles in her face tense behind the shroud of rage. You tried to reach out to her again, but another pathetic croak escaped your lips, and Rachel let go of your neck, whimpering suppressedly. "Ya're going," she hissed, getting up from the floor.

You pulled yourself up, coughing and rubbing your neck. "Rachel," your voice became an order of magnitude rougher as if your sister's hands were still clutching your throat. "I understand ya feel bad," you watched as she walked back to the bed, looking down at the same sweatshirt and wiping silent tears from her face. "But why ya so angry with me?"

She turned around sharply, meeting your uncomprehending gaze. "Because it's ya who should bear that burden, not me!" she shouted out desperately. "It's-," her own sobbing interrupted her, and she tried to push it away, hiding her face in hands. "It's all your fault, so why am I theone in tears right now?"   

"I didn't ask anyone to follow me-"

"Shut your fucking mouth!" the perfume flew just an inch from your face. When it hit the wall, it left nothing behind but shards that crumbled to the floor. "Shut up!" Rachel gasped and agonized with her own emotions. Despite the fact that she let them out, it didn't get any easier in the slightest. "Ya just an ungrateful bitch," she hissed weakly. "Ya'll go to the funeral. Otherwise your white-haired weirdo will find out-"

"He knows," you cut it off.

"That's how it is," Rachel said, naively slamming her eyes shut. "Then it's strange that he's still with ya. I can barely stand ya, even though I've been around since I was a kid."

"Rachel," you sighed tiredly. "Let's just not fight, 'kay? This isn't really a good time for that."

Wiping the nearly dried paths of tears from her face, your sister straightened to her full height and headed for the exit. "Ya're going or ya don't have a sister anymore either," she mumbled absently, shoving you with her shoulder.

It was definitely her favorite.

"We are gathered here today to honor the memory of our beloved son, brother, friend..."

The weather was clearly mocking. The midday sun brightly illuminated the growing greenery, the black-clad people, and the names on the tombstones. There wasn't a cloud in the sky, just a vast blue. Nature didn't seem to want to grieve with the people. She didn't care about all of you.

You stood away from everyone else, leaning against a tree. There was no place to hide in this cemetery field, and the tree seemed to be your only refuge. You pressed your shoulder against it as hard as you could, smoking your third cigarette.

"Words cannot express the full horror of this tragedy that has touched us all..." 

Tragedy.

Megumi and Danielle stood in the front rows, huddled together as if trying to become one. Both were pale and lifeless, but Dany still had the strength to cry. She stood with her face buried in his neck, unable to look at the closed coffin, and the boy stroked her head inconsolably, unable to take his eyes off of it. It was unclear which of them had it worse, but they decided to deal with it together.

It brought some people together.

Rachel stood beside them, holding Mike in her arms. She kept her hand on the redhead's head, pulling her son closer to her chest as if ordering him not to look. You could see his little body flinch and twitch. Rachel never spoke to you after that fight. She didn't even look in your direction.

Someone was distanced by it.

Frank's skin was the color of his hair and beard, but he struggled to keep that same good-natured expression, though it was completely drenched in sadness. He stared blankly at the empty coffin. How could you look him in the eye now that you couldn't even bring the body?

The people from the void who had come to the funeral were frightened. This man had saved them, fought for them, but if he was suddenly mortal, didn't that mean the rest of you were too?

Tragedy inevitably befalls everyone. For some it prepares them, for others it comes completely unexpectedly. It leaves behind either a hardened spirit or a broken heart - a person must choose for themselves.

"Wherever he goes, I believe he will end up in the arms of God..."

If God didn't have time to keep track of everything going on here, who's to say he had time to keep track of the other side? Did it even exist? You looked around the cemetery helplessly. There was a whole universe under each tombstone, but what would be under your brother's one?

"Y/N," greeted the woman who came up behind you.

"Camila," you said, taking another drag on your cigarette. The woman leveled herself at you and stared through her dark glasses at the spectacle in front of you. "I didn't think anyone from the old generation would come here."

"Can we be judged for that?" asked Camila plaintively. "Kyle's death hardly our business."

"He's Frank's son," you reminded her. "To Frank ya owe a lot."

"I didn't come here to bicker," the woman said sternly, nervously smoothing her already perfectly bunched hair. "I want you to give me my sons back."

"Did that one death scare ya like that?" you raised your eyebrows in surprise.

"One?" barked Camila, but immediately lowered her voice so as not to draw attention to herself. "Whatever. Anyway, I'm expecting Axel and Ryan home tomorrow. If not, we'll come pick them up ourselves," she gave you a meaningful look as if she wanted you to feel like you were nothing.

"Will mom's skirt save them in battle, too?"

There was a resounding smack. You bit your lip and put a hand to your aching cheek.

"It's called concern," she hissed, leaning over you. "You don't know of such a thing, do you? You don't care who you let go to waste."

"Concern?" you chuckled. "It didn't keep your hubby safe," when she tried to hit you again, you intercepted her arm, digging your nails into her skinny wrist. The hiss of bubbling blood eclipsed all sound, so you didn't immediately notice that there was no noise at all. No voices, no stomping. "Hit me again and I'll rip your heart out. Just like everyone else who will come to our house," you had barely finished grinning when a ringing silence that you hadn't sensed earlier hit your ears. Stunned by this, you turned towards the people gathered here to pay their honor. All of them were looking at you.

Shoving the frightened Camila's hand away from you, you strode away from the cemetery to the taunts of the midday sun.

Gojo thought he was doing the right thing. At least for the first couple days. Wasn't it fair to feed you the same pill you kept giving him? If you didn't give it a taste, how else would you know how bitter it was? That's how he reassured himself when he saw another missed call. If on the first day it made him smile stupidly, after a while he grew more and more anxious - maybe you've forgotten him already? He had to hand it to you - in all this time you called only four times, the last call was dated last night. It wasn't enough for him. He didn't want you to miss him only at night, he wanted to be in your thoughts every morning and evening, whether you were eating or fighting.

Gojo didn't miss your messages either. Megumi did well, how could he not? It couldn't have happened to any of his students otherwise.

He muffled the panic rising in his chest by poking curse's eye out with his heel. The eye burst with a squelching sound. He couldn't count how many times it had been these days because he had personally volunteered for mission after mission. "God, that's a lot of yelling," he muttered, tucking his hands into his pockets and pressing down on the ugly head even harder. Whether there was a brain inside the curse head or something else, Gojo's shoes were immediately stained with purple goo.

Gojo didn't hear the phone ring because of the ultrasound, but he pulled it out when he felt it vibrate in his pocket. Biting his lip in frustration, he stared at the caller's name for a while longer before answering. "Hey," Gojo chirped.  

"Jesus, what's that sound in the background?" hissed Megumi. The boy was heard to pull away from the phone.

"Oh, wait a second," Gojo rambled apologetically. He squatted down, and leaning over the curse, grabbed it by something that resembled a throat. When the covers crunched, when the curse froze, opening its mouth in an already silent scream, a mad chuckle escaped Gojo's lips. Clenching his hand even tighter, he ripped the creature's head off with a single tug. Tossing it away from him, Gojo leaned the phone to his ear again. "Better?" he asked carelessly.  

A long sigh sounded from the other side. "Are you really that busy or are you really just an unscrupulous asshole?"

"Hey!" he resented. "It's been so long since we've seen each other, and you don't have a warm word to say?"

"You should come. Anyway, the ceremony's already over, but I think it would be respectful to at least show up here," Megumi muttered moodily, and what was even more surprising to Gojo was the weakness hiding behind the usual scowl.

"Ceremony?" wondered Gojo, feeling his palms begin to sweat. "What did you guys do in there without me?" he asked, trying to suppress a nervous grin. 

"Uh," Megumi began uncertainly. "Didn't Y/N tell you?"

"Told me about what?" he inquired, smiling forcefully. There was silence on the other end, and the longer it lasted, the harder his heart began to pound. It pounded loudly and painfully, breaking all his arrogance and confidence in his own actions. "Megumi, told me about what?" 

Before his heart could stop, there was a rustling sound as if Megumi had pulled the phone as close to him as possible. "Kyle's dead."

They'd never been close. A few insults and promises to kick each other's asses were all they had in common. However, Gojo wasn't hurting for himself right now.

That's why you called him last night. You had called him twice in a row, and while Gojo had hesitated to answer the first call, the second one had made him throw the phone away. He'd been told that many times, directly or veiledly, jokingly or seriously, but as soon as he waved his hand, the words evaporated before they reached his soul. He couldn't even look up now, though. For the first time he felt like nothing.  

Sitting at the empty dining room table, Rachel stared out the window as if there were something more mesmerizing than the everyday sunset. Whether she prayed, pleaded, or argued, the inhabitants of heaven were adamant or deaf. The angels and their arrows did not care about human suffering.

Gojo was sure she heard the front door slam, so why didn't she turn around? The only thing that moved was her fingers, which scrabbled against the tabletop, occasionally touching the crystal ashtray that held at least twenty or so cigarette butts. The ashes smeared awkwardly against the table were like feelings - neither reversed nor returned, only wiped away with a damp cloth. "Hey," Gojo sounded muffled in spite of his ringing voice. "Sorry for your loss," Rachel never turned around. No nod of her head, no greeting. "Um... You know where Y/N is? Is she still in town?"  

"Why would I know where your monster is," she mumbled. Despite her slurred words, there was no bottle or glass on the table in front of her. Apparently, her father's influence was taking its toll.

"Uh? You're her sister," he said with a perplexed shrug.

Rachel clicked her tongue lazily, not taking her eyes off the window. "I wish I wasn't."

"Oh, I see," he drawled, an arrogant smirk in his voice. "So you're the poor unfortunate girl. The only one who lost someone, huh?" he tilted his head sideways, looking at your sister. There was no child sitting in front of him, so where did such childish behavior come from? "Grow up already."

Rachel sat still for a few seconds, then slowly turned her body and stared at Gojo with empty eyes. He'd come to her house, to her family, hung around her sister, failed to show up at her brother's funeral, and dared to mock her.

"Tranquillity."   

Gojo remained standing as he was. He realized that something had happened; even though he wasn't shackled, he felt strange as if the chain did exist and it was beginning to be slowly pulled around his neck. "Is that all you got?" he asked excitedly. There was only one desire burning in him now - to test the limits of his own abilities. 

If she'd had the strength to smile, her face would have contorted into a mad grimace, but right now Rachel just kept watching him. Nothing reflected in her glassy eyes. No surprise, no satisfaction. "What were ya saying about your infinity?" she asked blankly, not expecting an answer. It was not enough for her. If he couldn't feel the mental pain, let him feel the physical.

"Tranquillity."

She was ready to tear him and his equanimity. Thin black strips crawled along her fingers, wrapping around every inch of tanned skin.

It was hard for him to breathe, but the reverse technique was doing its job - it broke the chains time after time, but they were put back on, each one thicker than the last. His hand flew involuntarily to his throat.

"Rachel, that's enough!" shouted Frank, rushing down from the second floor. He hadn't even had time to change - he was still wearing his black suit. "I said STOP!" he howled, and Rachel's head popped up. When the chains of dark energy stopped restraining Gojo, he began gasping for air.

Frank walked over to him, and taking him by the shoulder, looked him over anxiously. "Son, ya okay?" Gojo nodded, rubbing his throat. "And ya," he turned angrily to his daughter. "What the hell ya doing?"  

Rachel showed an emotion other than total absence for the first time in a day. She laughed bitterly. "I'm just wondering why everyone is defending her."

"I don't know who exactly ya talking about," the man hissed. "But we have a duty to protect her because she's our family."

Rachel laughed even harder, and the louder her laugh was, the crazier it sounded. "Mom never carried her under her heart! She's here because you're a hearty idiot! You just felt sorry-"

"Shut your mouth!" snapped Frank sharply.

"I won't!" she yelled, jumping up from her chair. "None of this would have happened if it wasn't for her! I just want to come home and know that Kyle will meet me! Alive!" she gasped, muffling her own sobs. "And now he's gone. All because ya took pity on her once! You should have just left her to them," she whimpered weakly, her head collapsing onto her chest.

"You don't feel well. Go to your room," Frank ordered softly.

She glared sharply at him, for ire gave her strength. "Ya can't tell me what to do!"

"I am your father. Sure I can," he replied firmly, and though he kept his voice low, it sounded much louder than his daughter's screams. 

"Obedience."

Rachel groaned painfully and tried to keep her legs in place, but they were trying to get off the floor against her will. "Fuck you," she spat out, and then she went up the stairs and disappeared to the second floor.

Gojo watched Frank anxiously. The man was breathing heavily, staring after his daughter and rubbing his chest as if his heart were painfully throbbing. His arm was covered in dark, wriggling stripes, and when Frank's legs started to wobble, Gojo picked him up immediately. "Hey, hey, oldman," he gibbered worriedly. "What's the matter?" he dragged Frank to the couch, and sitting him down, poured him some water. 

"Thanks, son," the man took the glass with a shaky hand and took a couple sips. "Sorry for no warm welcome today. We're all on edge right now," setting the water aside, Frank pulled back the collar of his shirt. The dark lines wrapping around his collarbones almost reached his heart. "Shit...and here I thought I can live to fight another day," he grinned grimly.

Frank wasn't a fool. He may not have been the smartest man, but he had a lot of experience under his belt. He saw no anger or irritation on Gojo's face at what had happened, just the faded blue eyes. "Lost someone?" the man asked.

Gojo nodded briefly without looking up. "Yeah," he said quietly. 

"She's in the church now," Frank prompted politely. "She went to give some things away, so... You'll find her there."

"Do you really think I'd leave an old man with a heart attack?" clinging to the remnants of his temper, Gojo glanced slyly at Frank.

He got a fatherly slap, not hard enough to hurt him, but hard enough to set him straight. "Go already," Frank growled, and Gojo didn't bother to argue or bicker with him. Rubbing his aching heart, Frank barely waited for the door to slam shut. "Ya left too soon, Kyle," he sobbed, digging his fingernails into the blackened skin. "They still need your care."   

You dragged the boxes to the far corner hidden behind the columns and unlit by hundreds of candles. You did it as quietly as possible, trying not to disturb the praying parishioners. On days like this, the church came alive. The hall filled with light from the fire was crowded with people, and those who did not have enough room in the pews reverently said their prayers on the floor, on their knees. Everyone was silent, all those present turned only to God. Paradoxically, it only took one dead person to do this. On other days, the place was not gloomy, but rather empty - all the voices of those who came here echoed off the walls.

You could barely lift the boxes as if each one weighed a ton. When you would sneak quietly into a corner with a box, your forearms would ache terribly and you would want to drop everything or carry it back home. Were clothes always this heavy? Or was it the weight of parting?

When you reached the last box, you took your time putting it down. You held it tightly to you as if you were hugging it, and sat down on the floor next to the rest of the things. Watching the people in the gap between the columns, you wondered - perhaps you should have done the same. No one had ever explained what silent prayers could do. It was something intimate, something that remained only between man and the creature from above.

Man is all-powerful. Man is fragile. A person can move mountains or they can break their heel jumping off the bench. Person loves and hates, misses and has fun, makes mistakes and feats, but they forget that all this exists only because of them. Without them there would be neither conquered mountains, nor love nor hate.

And then the man dies.

"Y/N," a soft voice addressed you. "Don't sit on the cold floor. You'll catch a cold," you looked up and saw the Holy Father holding out his hand to you.

Setting the box aside with the rest of Kyle's belongings, you took his palm and stood up, shaking off your feet. "Kalev," you awkwardly tried to shove the boxes away so they wouldn't get in the way. "Um... Thank ya for performing the ceremony."

"What are you talking about?" wondered the Holy Father quietly. He was still dressed in his ceremonial robes, and unlike the others, it was completely white except for the wide collar - it was embroidered with silver threads. "Of course, I agreed to it. I don't care about the rumors. We're all human, and we deserve to go to the other world accompanied by a God."

"Yeah," you muttered, faltering and not looking up. "I guess ya're right."

"What's troubling you?" he asked worriedly, barely touching your hand. "We can always talk," seeing your gaze flicker around the church, he squeezed your palm harder, trying to reassure you.

You knew what awaited you behind those columns, away from the congregation. A small, cramped room that separated the speakers by a mesh partition. "There's no way I'm going to the confessional," you grinned nervously, feeling the back of your neck sweat.

"I didn't say anything about confession," the Holy Father smiled modestly. "I was talking about ordinary human interaction," the man spoke the most ordinary words, but the aura around him radiated a light-winged warmth as if he really was protected by a god. "I will always be happy to talk to you, Y/N," he continued to hold your hand in his, wrinkled and cognizant of the years that carried not only his joys and sorrows, but others' as well. "But it seems to me that someone else wants to talk to you now."

His kind gaze didn't change a bit as he looked over your shoulder. When he let go of your hand, he nodded softly, ordering you to go. As if it were a command from above, you turned around.

You couldn't see his face in the shadow of the columns, but you knew who it was. You walked past Gojo and sat down on the step without even looking at him. Since it was the will of the shadows, let the expression on his face remain a mystery to you forever. "I'm sorry," came the husky voice that had always been ringing and cheerful.

"Me too," you replied detachedly, watching the deserted town.

He carefully sat down beside you, keeping his distance. "Why didn't you tell me what happened?"

"So ya didn't see the calls and texts after all."

"I saw, but...," the heated tiles beneath his feet began to crumble. Gojo had heard once of that feeling of the ground leaving beneath one's feet, but no one had warned him that it would do so slowly. "If you only texted me about what happened, I would be here right away."

"Why," you couldn't even catch the sarcasm in the impersonality of your voice. "Did something like this really have to happen for ya to finally pick up the phone and say ya 'kay?"

So that was it. You didn't ask for help or pity. You just wanted to be reassured that he was okay. "I really am an asshole," there was none of his usual sass in his voice. Just the realization crashing down on him like a slab of granite, crushing all arrogance and carelessness. "I'm sorry. I'm not- I'm just- God," he buried his face in his palms. "I can't even find the right words."

"Whatever," you said, and your alienation did not catch his despair. "I still have more to think about besides another person being disappointed in me."

"No, no, no. It's not like that at all," he mumbled in a weak voice. He cupped your face. To his surprise, you gave in effortlessly as if you were a rag doll. "Only a brainless idiot would be disappointed in you," he leaned his forehead against yours. "And I'm an idiot, but I have brains. Right?" he asked you, and noticing the faintly familiar wrinkles in the corners of your eyes, he smiled, even though his eyes were glistening treacherously.

"If you had brains, you'd run away," you didn't realize that both his mind and his heart had been screaming to the contrary for a long time. That's why he was here now, in front of you and with you, all broken with naked soul. 

Gojo pressed you tighter against him and even pushed you back a little, so as not to disturb the exiting parishioners, but you didn't notice anything. On the other hand, he noticed everything, right down to the way you burrowed harder into his neck when someone walked past you. "Mochi," he rubbed his nose softly against the top of your head. "Is anyone home?"

"No," you replied without raising your head. "All here in Hopetown."

Not to a grieving Rachel, not to a worried Frank, not to a maelstrom of hissing hunters - he didn't want to give you to anyone. Gojo hoped you would understand his selfish desire. "Let's go home then, 'kay?" he whispered and, stunned by the church bells and the beating of his own heart, he kissed you shyly on the temple - your very first kiss. 

You washed away today - all the water running down the drain, taking the dust, sweat, anger, and pain with it. You tried not to disturb your mental equilibrium, and one way to maintain it was with a routine. After smearing moisturizers on your body and applying balm to your hair, you wrapped yourself in a robe and stood in front of the dresser with your clothes. Gojo wanted you to open up - it was time to start somewhere. 

You had no idea what was waiting for you on the floor above. You'd agreed to just watch something, but Gojo was running around the kitchen trying to make a quick meal. He's already gotten it into his head that you're an omnivore. Maybe there were some exceptions like boiled carrots or something, but he didn't like those things too, which meant you'd find something to your liking from all the things he'd quickly cooked and panic-bought at an unknown store - in his state of chaos, Gojo didn't even realize where he'd teleported to. Garlic croutons, mozzarella cheese balls, baked shrimp in bacon, nachos with chili sauce, a few chocolate bars - cholesterol plaques. Everything just the way you liked it. "Well... Acceptable," he muttered, eyeing the edibles.

"What is it?" you asked, peering out from behind his forearm. Gojo didn't even jump - he was used to living in this house with the thought that you could be behind him at any moment. He was ready for anything. Or he thought so until he turned around. 

You were wearing regular pajama pants. Avocado, kitten, funny writing, or solid colors - he'd seen them all. But instead of the usual closed shirt, you were wearing a top. A little stretched and faded, but it hid almost nothing. "Uh," you drawled uncertainly, noticing the lost expression on Gojo's face. "Is something wrong?" you took a step back.  

Gojo had long suspected what was under your clothes, and his suspicions were confirmed. Scars of all kinds - sunken, bumpy, torn, and stretched - adorned your skin, layered on top of each other. The whitish-pink indentations on your wrists were like bracelets, and your throat was covered with many thin tightened cuts, like a dried bloody necklace.  

That wasn't what Gojo was interested in. He knew that if he gave it a single thought, he would be consumed by rage, which was good only in battle and only if it was cold. However, in helpless rage one could only find the road to self-defeat. Anyway, a trigger clicked quietly in his head.   

Kill them all.

"N-no, it's okay," Gojo mumbled, averting his eyes in embarrassment. Your naked arms, shoulders, collarbones, and neck - it made it seem as if you'd exposed more than just a part of your body. "Y-you just- uh," he panted quietly and tried to brush away the unruly white strands that tickled his burning face with his hands. "You took me by surprise," he mumbled awkwardly, raising his eyes to you again.

"Well, I just wish I could wear something like that sometimes too. At least in your workroom," you shrugged. "When I told ya ya could sleep over sometimes, I didn't think ya'd end up living there," you chuckled, not noticing how the man in front of you was being pulled further and further into the abyss by the shame.

"Sorry, I- Uh, I-I just...," Gojo kept stammering like a flustered teenager, and his hands couldn't find their place - he was trying to shove them into his pockets, then cross them over his chest, then fix his hair again. "I'm sorry, I didn't even think of that," he admitted timidly. 

"Nothing, it's fine," you smiled, seeing his condition. "If it bothered me too much, I'd tell ya about it, so... Let's just take it all to the TV," you suggested, pointing to the food. Gojo nodded, and you walked over to the dining table. Seeing several bars of chocolate, you looked dumbfounded. "God," you whimpered. "Wait here. I forgot something." 

You had no right to do that. He'd been through too much emotion that day, and this waiting during your sudden outburst only made him more anxious. He tried to rub his face with his hands to get the red paint off it or to cool it down a little, but it was in vain. Even his hands were burning.

Gojo was eager to get everything ready. He moved all the food to the coffee table, fluffed all the pillows on the couch, brought a couple of blankets, turned on the TV and searched for a movie, but nothing worked. He was still in a panic. 

"Here," you drawled uncertainly, rising from the workroom and walking over to him, sitting on the couch and tapping his foot against the floor. "It's hardly tasty, so...," you bit your lip, holding out the chocolate bar to him. "Just a souvenir from the void," you chirped, flopping onto the couch and tucking your legs under you.   

Gojo stared dumbly at the bar of chocolate in the weathered wrapper - it had been pink, but there was no lettering or logo. Did you think of him?  Was there really room in your head for him in the midst of the cold and the demons, the half-dead people and the unknown? When you were all alone and didn't know how to get out? "I won't eat it, I guess," he said weakly, though he tried to smile slyly.

"Prissy," you snorted, grabbing the nearest pillow and throwing it at him. "Crank up TV."

You've seen several movies, but Gojo didn't understand any of them. The plot, the acting, the locations - he couldn't remember any of it, even though he was staring straight at the screen. Thoughts were rushing around in his head, and his side vision was emphasizing you. You were eating with an envious appetite on whatever he'd cooked or bought, which made him bury his face harder into the pillow he was cradling against his chest. Was it fair that you were so comfortable around him? Was he the only one in this room with a heart that was out of place?    

"That's it," you sighed tiredly, stretching. "I'm full and I can't move," you said, throwing the pillow on the couch and flopping down on it, keeping your legs tucked in so you wouldn't disturb Gojo. 

Okay, it may have been unfair, but it was rarely otherwise in this world. He made that decision on his own. If you were knocked out and made to run away by his attempts to get closer to you, he was willing to back off, but just one step back. No further. Everything was fine as long as you let him stay by your side in this room, on the same couch, eating mozzarella cheese balls he'd made.

"Hey," you poked your foot gently into his thigh. "You're falling asleep," you said, watching his eyelids slip shut. "At least lie down." 

Gojo glanced sleepily at the door; he didn't want to go down to the workroom. He sighed tiredly and lay down behind you. In a strangely familiar habit, he put his arm around your waist - your back was pressed against his chest. "Mochi," Gojo whispered gently into your shoulder, realizing it was time for a risky endeavor. "Look, this might seem weird to you, but... Is it just me or are you and Rachel not getting along?" 

He furrowed his brows at his own insolence, though he hadn't been bothered by those devils pulling his tongue before. You remained silent, stroking the back of his hand with your thumb, an action that made him relax a little. "We fight with her a lot," you finally uttered. "Nothing out of the ordinary."

"I just heard something I wasn't supposed to hear," he admitted honestly. "She said things like, uh... It's not like a common fight."

"She rarely watches her tongue," a shaky exhale escaped you, and Gojo, burrowing deeper into your neck, tried with all his might to show he was there for you. "Rachel, she's... She's not the bad person. It was just a bad day, that's all," he felt you squeeze his hand harder as if you were trying to hold him in place. "Besides... She has a right to be mad at me." 

He squeezed your hand in response. "Why?"

"I killed her husband."

You sat in the huge wooden barn, surrounded by sleeping cattle. The thin hay stung your skin even through your clothes, but you didn't dare move; you sat obediently as you had been told. The strong wind made the barn door wobble as if it were about to swing open. Nothing could be heard outside, only the long whistle of the night air through the cracks.

You tried irritably to wipe the dried blood off your hands, your skin itching and aching in places as you tried so hard to get rid of the scarlet liquid. With the quiet sleepy snorting of the animals and the shoving of another straw away from you, you wondered angrily. What had gone wrong? Where had you miscalculated? And where the fuck did Frank go?

No matter how fast or slow the time dragged on, he was already late. Did he really think that if he told you to sit still and keep your nose clean, he could disappear as long as he wanted?  

As irritation began to turn to frustration, the barn door swung open, banging loudly against the wall. "Shit," mumbled Frank to the howling wind that blew in. He examined the door, and making sure it was still on its hinges, closed it back with force.

You immediately jumped to your feet, approaching him. "Well? How bad is it?" you worried.

He put his arm around your shoulders, forcing you back into the haystack and sat down beside you. The stack immediately sagged, nearly flattening to the floor. "I'm not gonna lie. It's pretty bad," Frank admitted on an exhale.

"Hunters?"

"There's less than half of them left."

"And the people?" you asked hopefully.

"Everyone was slaughtered," Frank reported grimly, patting you comfortingly on the knee.

"Wonderful," you said desolately. "They were the first people we brought out of the void, and for what? So that a couple weeks later they could just be killed?"

"It's okay," the man put his arm around you, and noticing the deep cut on your eyebrow, touched it - dark lines immediately began to tighten it. "The important thing is that we're still alive."

"What... What's up with the plantation?" you asked through force, expecting the worst.

Your expectations were confirmed. "Burned down along with the village," Frank said threateningly quietly. "We don't have the black orchid anymore."

You jumped to your feet again, and even Frank's heavy hand couldn't hold you in place. You started pacing from side to side, wringing your hands nervously. "That's fucking bullshit," you bellowed. "Hunters have lived there for centuries, has anyone ever attacked?" at your rhetorical question Frank still shook his head. "Then what the hell? Did someone turn us in?"

"I have no clue," the man shook his head contritely. "We'll have to think about it on a fresh head. Right now it's better to rest."

Because of your worries and the excitement of the elements of nature, you did not hear someone knocking shyly on the barn door. The guest, not waiting to be answered, opened the door themselves.

You turned around, but Frank had already managed to step forward and covered you with his back. "Oh, Noah," he exhaled, and his body relaxed. "Thanks for bailing us out," Frank said, and he wasn't so hard at covering you anymore. Peeking out from behind his shoulder, you met the worried gaze of a man who was wrapping himself more tightly in a fur vest.

"It's nothing," Noah muttered, shivering from the cold. "But you can't stay here for long," he lowered his voice conspiratorially. "Don't think I'm chasing you out of here. It's just that they... They might find out through me that you're here."

"Don't worry. We'll wait out the night and leave at dawn," the insider nodded uncertainly at Frank's assurance and took a step backward, slamming his back into the wall. The clattering pitchfork made him jump up and he stormed out of the barn. "I dunno where to go, though," he admitted aloud.

"Then you'll come to our house," you said in a voice that didn't tolerate bickering.

"I doubt the hunters would agree," grinned Frank sadly.

"Let them go to motels then. I don't care," you waved it off, settling back on the haystack. "We ain't done with that settlement yet anyway. Those people need a place to live, and without hunters, there'll be more room in the house."

"Still... The house isn't rubber, after all," the man frowned.

"We have to rebuild the village," you tried to cheer Frank up. "Somewhere on the edge of the Earth. And this time we'll have to think seriously about how to protect it."   

***

Two months had passed since the bloody incident, and you were on tenterhooks again. It was comforting to know that you weren't the only one in that state. Kyle was sitting next to you on the couch in the hallway of the infirmary. He jumped up, walking to the closed door of the chamber, and then sat back down. Involuntarily watching his fidgeting, you began to get even more nervous. Doc had never taken so long to examine a patient before; had something terrible happened to Rachel?

Your brother wouldn't stop - he would pop his head up every now and then when there was a rustling and mumbling outside the door. "Ya're not helping. Sit down," you turned to him exhaustedly as he once again got up from the couch.

You shivered as the doc's replica rushed past you. The same white coat, the same hands that clutched the clipboard and pen, only the replica never had a face. A blank canvas with no eyes, no nose, no mouth. Doc was always good at optimization, but the implementation was sometimes horrifying.

You both rose from your seats as doc left the ward and closed the door behind him. Clutching the clipboard to his chest, he stared at you over his glasses. "Congratulations," he said glumly. "She's pregnant."

"What?" you both simultaneously blurted out, and were reflections of each other - both amazed, right down to your open mouths.

"I mean, it's...," began a panting Kyle. "That's great!"

"Go to her," Doc nodded, but as you took a step toward the room, he grabbed your arm. "Not you. In my office. Now," Doc hissed and immediately rushed off in the direction of his office. You and Kyle looked at each other dazedly, and after a little while, you headed after doc.

As you closed the office door, you saw doc fidgeting with his medical records, and when he found the right one, he began to flip through the pages. "Doc, what's the matter?" you worried, watching as he began to write something down. The pen was almost tearing the paper.

"Sit down," he called out without raising his eyes. You obediently took the chair and moving it closer to the desk, sat down. "I won't beat around the bush," he tossed the medical records aside and interlocking his fingers, stared at you again. "Rachel has uterine hypoplasia. Or rather, she had uterine hypoplasia."

"Uh," you began confusedly, digging around doc's desk with your eyes, not sure why. Maybe looking for answers. "Can we use human language?"

"Undeveloped uterus," doc chided. "Specifically in her case, no bigger than this thing here," he tossed a pencil eraser under your nose. "I examined her from top to bottom just a month and a half ago, everything was the same. And now she's pregnant," he said coldly.

"She never told me anything about her disease," you said wistfully, thoughtfully twirling a pencil eraser in your hands.

"She suspected her reproductive problems, but I never told her anything about her disease," doc explained glumly. "Rob wanted kids too much, and I wanted to find a solution to that problem before I told them everything," he grimaced as he watched you put the eraser back on the table. "But the problem seems to have been solved for me."

"Couldn't ya... Ya know, recover her or something?" you suggested weakly, crossing your arms.

"I can only replicate what is already available. Not create new things," doc shook his head, tapping his fingers restlessly on the table.

"So what ya getting at?" you asked, the corners of your lips involuntarily creeping upward, and there was no way you could stop that panicked nervous smile.

Was it because of this that a few months ago you all literally drowned in blood and lifeless bodies? Was the price of all this something ephemeral, something that had not yet come into this world? You didn't want to believe it, and you hoped that none of you would say it out loud.

Doc was of a different opinion. He was always satisfied only with truth and facts, and it didn't matter what they carried with them. "If you don't believe in God, I suggest you to start," he said, leaning back in his chair. "After all, if this isn't a miracle of God, I'll laugh in the face of anyone who says it's just a coincidence."  

***

Rachel didn't have any of those weird wants - no cucumbers with chocolate, no honey and chips, no chalk - but her appetite was growing by the day. Because of her cravings, you could go to the store several times a day, only to have her tell you afterwards that she didn't want it anymore. Just like that, you were shoving now unwanted strawberries into the fridge. The container crumpled from the force you exerted, and the walls of it turned scarlet - unable to withstand such violence, the poor strawberry simply burst.

When you heard your sister's mumbling from the couch again, you spread your arms out to the sides with all your fingers together, closed your eyes, and took a couple of deep breaths to catch the slipping calm. You weren't supposed to be angry, Rachel was pregnant. This behavior was normal.

"What the hell ya doing there?" whined Rachel, peering out from behind the back of the couch. "The show's already starting."

"I'm coming," you muttered, slamming the refrigerator door shut. As soon as you sat down on the couch, she immediately laid her head on your lap, not caring at all about the way your legs were going to cramp up. Sighing, you started stroking her red curls, realizing where this was going. "Ya can't sleep on the couch forever. It's bad for your back."

"Back off," she snorted, fidgeting and tugging the blanket over her. "What can I do? Rob stinks."

"What's that he smells like?" you laughed softly.

"How should I know?" she whined for the umpteenth time this week. "He just stinks. I get nauseous around him all the time."

"Ya sure it's about the smell?" you asked casually, smirking eagerly, for which you received a hard slap on the thigh. "Ouch!" Rachel only frowned more at your exclamation and squirmed harder into a ball, not taking her eyes off the TV. "Rach... How did ya even realize ya were pregnant?"

"Well...," she drawled thoughtfully. "I got my period first. When it first start when you're thirteen it's normal, but when you're in your early twenties... I had a real panic attack," she laughed merrily, remembering her flighty state. "I thought I had vaginal cancer or something."

"Rachel," you giggled quietly along with her.

After calming down a bit, she continued. "I went to the doc right away, and he calmed me down, saying I was just menstruating. Only he was looking unkindly at my medical records. Dunno, maybe I imagined it. Just a couple weeks later, I got so sick...," she whimpered, placing a hand on her still growing belly. "I thought I had poisoned myself with something, but Rob kept following me around and insisting to take a pregnancy test. So, it just happened," she pressed her palm harder against her lower abdomen, and she could have sworn she felt another heartbeat even though her common sense screamed that it was too early for that. "Ya think I'll be a good mom?" she asked muffled, almost bashfully.

"Uh...," you drawled surreptitiously, playing with a strand of her hair. "I guess so? Actually, it depends on the kid, too. It's a matter of luck," you shrugged, trying to choose your words. "If it's a gifted child - fine, but if it's not... Well, then ya'll be scrubbing shit off the walls," you giggled, which earned you another hard slap to the knee. "That hurts!" you squeaked.

The fact that she was unaware of it was neither comfort nor relief. The deeper you went into your thoughts, the more your hands shook as if your mind were a labyrinth, its icy walls stretching to the edge of heaven, leaving no way out. You didn't know if you had to do it or if you just wanted to, but it seemed like the best solution.

Toxicosis is a terrible thing. Either a woman eats a lot and then vomits, or she eats nothing at all and still vomits. After a few trips to the bathroom with Rachel, she finally fell asleep. You carefully put a pillow under her head instead of your lap and headed to the second floor.

You didn't spend more than a minute in there. All you had to do was walk as quietly as possible past the sleeping Rob, steal his phone, and carry it into the workroom. Trifling matter, but when you got to the desk, you couldn't bring yourself to plug the phone into the computer. You felt like you were shackled, and the more you resisted, the harder the shackles dug into your skin - a familiar feeling that made you collapse helplessly into the chair.

"Need help?" the suave mechanical voice was like a nudge or just a key to all the chains for you.

"Meg," you addressed the artificial intelligence, finally plugging the cable into the computer. "Find something," you sobbed raggedly, watching as his phone lit up, announcing that the connection had been successful. "Find something that says he had nothing to do with this."

***

Vito looked at you as if you were mentally unstable. Everyone else had left to celebrate the completion of Hopetown, and you were the only one sitting in the kitchen, in absolute silence and total darkness. No garland was lit. No crickets were chirping. No cold wind rushing in.

Doc probably only told you about it because he knew Rob was Kyle's best friend. He wouldn't have been able to judge impartially, and there was no telling which evil would show its face. A desperate attempt at vindication, or a brutal, agonizing murder. "Eh," Vito sighed, wrapping elastic bandages around his legs. "I was born to drink beer, not this stuff," he glanced at you sneakily. "And why aren't ya at the party?"

"I felt sorry for ya," you joked back.

"Come on," Vito said cheerfully. "I bet next year someone else will get a shift on those dates, and I'll make up for it then."

After waiting for him to lace up his boots and put on his mask, you got up and went to see him off. When you got to the training field, the same point from which every voidrunner departed, Vito nodded, and after telling you to drink a bottle of beer for him, disappeared in a purple flash.

You walked around the place where the man had been a few seconds ago, took a dozen steps toward the forest, and turned around, leaving footprints in the snow. The clammy anticipation of the inevitable made your palms sweat. The clouds of vapor coming out of your mouth were jagged, intermittent, but not from the cold, for all you felt was desolation.

You could feel his presence, but you couldn't sense his thoughts or his moods. You ran a hundred excuses in your head for him, but none of them fit. Your gut shook more and more as he approached. Before the purple flash was even born, you covered your eyes with your hand.

Rob didn't look hurt or tired, only frantically shaking something off his sides with his hands, unaware that there was someone standing ten paces behind him. Someone with obvious motives, someone with courage and no sympathy. Perhaps if he'd paid attention to the fresh footprints, he might have been able to do something about it.

"Relocate."

There was no longer a field beneath your feet - it was a scaffold. One of your hands rested on his shoulder, and the other, clutching the dagger, was between his shoulder blades. The dagger cut the flesh silently, so your conscience was silent, too. It was very quiet. No sobs, no whimpering. Only when you twisted the dagger and pulled it sharply from Rob's heart was there a gurgling wheeze.

The man tried to turn around, but he didn't have time - his legs gave up before he could. He fell to his knees, and only after a few long moments, collapsed face first into the ground.

You'd always loved the sight of blood running down a back - a sure sign that the reaper had gone unnoticed. You watched blankly as the scarlet puddle spread beneath Rob, desecrating the pure white color, and you never realized that this was the first murder you'd ever committed that didn't make your hands tremble.

Your world froze, but everything continued to live without your participation. To the songs of the white wind under the northern sky, winter was sweeping everything away. The ground, the cooling body, the sins of the living and the dead. The only thing left untouched and naked were your bloody hands.

There were two persons in the field. One was the best friend, the father, the husband. The other was the one who took it all away. 

It was a sudden revelation that was never meant to be spoken, and Gojo froze in place, trying not to scare you away. You took it in your own way, though you tried not to think about how badly you might have spoiled his attitude toward you by telling him about your past. It was better to keep your mouth shut as it had been, and though Gojo was sometimes angry at you for it, you'd never felt like he was about to leave for good before. "Rob never had time to figure out who killed him, and Rachel never found out what happened to him," you continued to drown yourself, forgetting your sense of self-preservation. "I just told her that he never came back from the void," you were disturbed to your shaking knees by this uncertainty - Gojo still had his arm around your waist but remained motionless, you couldn't even hear his breathing above your ear. "I used to reassure myself that it was best for her, that she'd never know what he'd done or how much Mike's life really cost, but... I guess those were just pathetic excuses for a coward like me. That's all."  

"Look at me," though there was nothing commanding in his tone, his hand tugged at your waist, forcing you to turn around. "A real coward wouldn't have done anything and let it go, but not you," Gojo said, stroking your cheek soothingly. He would have given anything for you to look at him now, to feel how sincere his words were, but you only squinted your eyes harder. "I killed Megumi's father," he admitted on an exhale, and you opened your eyelids. "I'm not seeking for attention, it's just...," Gojo mumbled embarrassedly, but didn't take his palm away from your face. "It would be fair of me to admit something in return. And... Uh, he doesn't know about it either." 

"How come?" 

"It's just happened," he grinned bitterly. "He had a person to kill and I was just in the way. To be honest, he kicked my ass pretty good, but it was that bastard that made me stronger," Gojo sighed wistfully at the recollection that seemed to have faded into oblivion. "I never got to protect that person, though," he added more quietly. 

"But ya've protected many others."

"Exactly!" he brightened, burying his nose in your cheek. "So do you. Don't ever forget that, 'kay?" you nodded your head weakly, but it was enough for him. If need be, he was willing to repeat it every day, and it didn't matter that there was a chance he'd pester you to the point where you'd ban him from the workroom forever. He could have come in through the window anyway.

The annoying feeling of worrying for someone had long ago turned to trepidation, and when Gojo felt you fidget once more, there was no way he could keep another question inside him. "How long ago did you stop sleeping?" your stunned stupor made him chuckle. "It's not like I'm a blind fool. You said you were gonna sleep in the other room, but when you're home, you don't leave the workroom at all." 

You climbed under the blanket and pressed your forehead against his chest. "Ya've reached your limit of questions for today," you muttered sullenly, pouting your lips.

The only reaction he had to your behavior was tenderness. You may not have remembered it, but he'd seen you asleep once. In this very same spot, on this very same couch, which was illuminated by the light from the TV. He remembered covering a restless you with a blanket and sitting next to you all night, pretending to watch cartoons. "Come here," Gojo whispered softly into the top of your head. "Come here," taking advantage of your lack of comprehension, he rolled over onto his back, wrapped both arms around your waist, and laid you on top of him with enviable ease. His arms closed around you in case you decided to run away, even though he realized that if you wanted to disappear, you would. But you remained motionless, leaning your head against his chest. "Try to get some sleep, 'kay?"   

The song of his heart was fast and feverish, but it wasn't annoying. In the timid embrace of such a rare guest as a dream, you heard another melody, unfamiliar one. The longer this melody was played, the more embrace became tender and stronger, but did an ordinary dream know how to embrace like that? 

Gojo hummed softly to himself, hardly saying any words. It was a muffled melody, and he doubted you could hear it. Either way, you began to fidget less and to raise your head less often, looking around the space with a blurred gaze. "Shh," he hushed quietly as you jumped up once more and gently returned your head back to his chest. "It turns out you're snuffling. You knew that?" after all, he had already kissed you once, would it make it worse if he did it again? Gojo didn't remember himself as his lips covered everything they could reach with tender kisses. "My baby," he whispered softly, touching with his lips the spreading black lines on your forehead. "You're so beautiful," he breathlessly babbled nonsense into your blackened hair and smiled foolishly, but his face changed immediately as if someone was trying hard to take you away from him. "I'll always be there for you. I promise."  

You were pushed from side to side as if you weighed nothing, but it wasn't anyone's fault. There were more people in the bar this time, but everyone was still as drunk and happy as ever. When you heard the threatening creak, you unconsciously bounced. An old wooden sign fell where you had just been standing. A cheeky hooting sounded, profanity was heard everywhere, and a bottle smashed against the wall a few feet away. You ducked as if you were in a battlefield and headed for the familiar staircase.

It was still the same fog of cigarette smoke, but it was a lot calmer. Maybe it was the quiet people who gathered here or maybe it was the influence of the sullen-looking bartender. He was still polishing the glasses.

No one was interested in anyone here. When you walked in, not a single head turned in your direction. The people here were happy in their own way, and they didn't care about anyone else. "Sunshine!" a joyful, familiar voice called out to you.

When you looked over, you saw Kyle sitting at a round table. He had a glass of light beer in front of him, and judging by his blissful look, it wasn't his first glass. He was surrounded by painfully familiar faces, but that pain carried with it only surprise. Vito was slyly pouring more alcohol into Kyle's glass, and your brother's shoulder was gripped tightly by a man's hand. Rob sat next to him, encouraging them both.

"Hey guys," you smiled, taking a seat across from them.

"Hey! Why ya sitting so far away?" whined Kyle drunkenly, holding out his arms to you. "Come here!" you looked at this picture through your fingers. Shifting your gaze to Rob, you saw him raise his eyebrows guiltily.  

"I see ya two are best friends again?" you asked snidely, pulling Kyle's beer glass to you. Kyle was drunk, but he was able to focus and send you a questioning look, even though you thought his eyes were about to drift apart.

"All right, lad, let's go bring ya to your senses," Vito announced businesslike, lifting Kyle by the shoulders in one jerk.

"Oh my," you said meaningfully, watching as Vito dragged Kyle's collapsed body on his back. "It's not even a day later, and he's already on a roll."

"He's been looking out for ya all his life," Rob reminded you, laughing. "He's long overdue for a rest," he sighed as the door to the restroom slammed shut behind the men. An awkward silence hung. You had a lot to say to each other, and only one of you needed the courage to start. "Ya mad?" asked Rob quietly, looking into your eyes.

"No," you replied simply, shaking your head and pressing your lips together. "I'm not."

"Ya didn't tell him?" he nodded his head in the direction of the restroom.

"Kyle's not stupid. I think he figured it all out on his own."

"I just...," he began tentatively, and all his movements seemed awkward, embarrassed. Rob scratched the back of his head thoughtfully before continuing. "I just want ya to know. I don't regret anything."

"Yep," you chirped, sipping from Kyle's glass and immediately grimaced. You sighed heavily, wanting as soon as possible to say goodbye forever to the feeling that made your soul clench into a helpless lump. "Me too."

"That's your style," Rob laughed and immediately relaxed. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his legs. "How's... How's my baby boy?"

"Mike is fine. He's nothing like ya," you stated, wrinkling your nose. "Not in looks, not in personality."

"It's for the best," he said, raising his glass as if his words were a toast. Taking a sip from the glass, Rob set it back on the table with a thud. "And how's my wife?"

"She is okay," you lied, shrugging indifferently. "Ya know her. She can handle anything."

"Oh yeah," he drawled meaningfully, stretching and putting his hands on the back of his head. "I never thanked ya," he started laughing softly again, and you realized what he was getting at.

"Kyle brought ya two together, not me," you tried unsuccessfully to remind him, but Rob was already flying in his memories.

"He just gave me her number and some idiotic advice," he waved it off carelessly. "And ya," he literally jabbed his finger at you. "Ya're the one who told me to bring a bouquet of garlic bread and dried squid instead of flowers on our first date," you clucked your tongue and involuntarily hid half your face in your palms, hoping he'd get your sign and not continue. "And how she chased it all with beer, mmm," he thought blissfully, closing his eyes. "I was all gone," he chuckled again. "Here comes our drunk," he announced, nodding toward a sobered Kyle.

He looked like he was being dragged to trial. His face was still wet and red, and he clutched his clenched hands to his chest with all his might. "I'm sorry," he said quietly to you, sitting down next to you. "I forgot myself a little," he stared guiltily at the table, not daring to look you in the eye.

"You deserve it," you reminded him, shoving him gently with your shoulder. Suddenly, on cue, a thought popped into your head as if your mind was a jewelry box and someone had just put a piece of jewelry in there. "By the way, Kyle," you chirped, reaching into your pocket with your hand. You didn't take it with you, you didn't even think about it, so why did you have it? "Ya left something," you said, holding out a silver bracelet to him.

"Oh shit!" worried Kyle, taking the jewelry from your hands and placing it on his wrist. "I thought it was gone forever..."

"Don't lose it anymore," you jokingly chastised him.

"Thank ya," he wrapped his arms around you and began kissing your face, and you wrinkled unhappily at the touch of wet black strands against your skin.

When he was done with his affection, you unceremoniously pushed the beer glass away from him. You decided to stay out of the men's conversations and musings - they'd been gone too long already. You'd heard stories about their first dates, their first fights, and there seemed to be some generational difference between Vito, Kyle and Rob.

Kyle wouldn't be himself if he hadn't noticed your state of mind even in the midst of a cheerful conversation. He could see your desperate gaze circling the bar, searching for someone. "Sunshine...," he began, taking your hand. "I'm sorry, but she's not coming tonight."

"I thought so."

You're just now noticing that there's been music playing in the bar the whole time. Quiet, but energetic. You only realized this because your brother looked playfully into your eyes. "Shall we dance?"

"Kyle, I can't dance," you protested weakly, flinching away.

"Just a twitch, then," he chuckled, taking you under the arm and pulling you from the table.

There wasn't a single person here dancing. Maybe they didn't know it was allowed or maybe they just didn't want to. Either way, no one paid any attention to you. Everything merged in your clumsy movements, and did so tightly that it ceased to exist at all. You forgot what happened yesterday and didn't know what would happen tomorrow, the only thing that mattered to you now was Kyle dancing and laughing right in front of you. He was alive and whole, and no one tore him apart. He still loved and supported you even when you failed.

The two of you, panting and red, Kyle from the exertion and you from the embarrassment, didn't notice as the bar began to empty. People lingered here for a long time, but they left quickly one by one, and now there were empty tables all around you. "Okay, that's it," he put his arm around your shoulders, trying to catch his breath. Kyle saw Rob and Vito already getting ready, slipping their jackets over their shoulders. "Sunshine," he whispered, looking into your eyes confused. "I'm sorry. But we really have to go."

"It's okay," you cheered him up. "I understand everything. Go."

He pulled you hard against him, but at this point, you couldn't feel how much love he actually put into it. "See ya," Kyle whispered into the top of your head, and he could barely pull away from you as if every inch between you was causing him a tremendous amount of pain.

"See ya," you said after him.

The same bartender was still sullenly going about his work as if he had an endless supply of dirty glasses under the bar. When all the door bells rang out, you looked around and realized you were alone in that corner bar again.

The crackle of burning wood in the fireplace and the smell of smoldering timber brought calmness, one of the few states of mind available to them. Not discerning day or night, sun or moon, love or hate, but only pretending to know everything around them, these creatures sat in corners, in shadows, trying to sort out their own affairs. "It's time to stir up the hornet's nest."

Rei reluctantly raised his head. "Hm?" he lazily uttered, examining the ceiling of the room as if the person speaking was sitting there. "If you meant kill them all, there's a different expression for that. You should be around people more often," Rei stuck back into the fashion magazine and slid the whiskey glass closer to him.

"Who has access to the repository with the artifact?" the creature asked, ignoring the barbed remarks.  

"Frank and his kids," Rei replied nonchalantly, admiring the model's sultry skin on one of the pages. He ran his finger across the page. Why instead of a soft smooth texture he didn't feel even a pitiful semblance?

"How fortunate you killed the lad," the creature hissed

"Do I hear sarcasm in your voice?" grinned Ray, looking up again. "Oh, come on," he laughed, grabbing a glass of whiskey, the ice rattling as if it were afraid. "You're the one who advised me to watch out for the redheaded girl. We didn't need the lad. He just got in the way."

"Any luck finding anything out?"

"Nope," Rei muttered, pouting his lips demonstratively. "Her only weaknesses are alcohol and sex. I like her, by the way," a smile slowly formed on his face, and he turned back to the model. Rather, to her sultry skin.

"You can't be entrusted with anything at all," the creature disappointed, and the glass the demon clutched in his hand crackled. The thin glass shattered into hundreds of small shards, but never broke. "We need someone with powers of observation."

Taking a couple deep breaths, Rei came to his senses. "Stop underestimating me. Even if we did have it, the town is protected by relics," he said irritably, carefully setting the glass aside. "They only protect it from demons and dark energy, though. No one said anything about the rest," the indignation was replaced by a mad chuckle so quiet and short it could penetrate anywhere. Under the skin, under the bones, into the heart.

"Is there someone in mind?"

"Yeah, kinda," Rei chirped, wiggling his leg flirtatiously. Maybe he should have done it for nothing because every movement of that body created an rage in him that he couldn't get rid of. The more he spat it out, the harder he let it out, the more it came back to him. There was only one thing that could do it all.

"You're still not happy about something."  

"Give me one good reason why I should stay in this body or I'll change it immediately," he bellowed, tugging on a shirt that was twice his size.

"Have you tried working out?" the voice suggested sincerely and courteously. "They say it builds muscle."

"Why don't I start eating fucking porridge in the morning too?" Rei clenched his teeth in anger, pitching forward.

"You can't change your body right now," the creature warned. The glass, already battered and hitherto standing peaceful on the table, burst. "Your date hasn't happened yet. She needs to see this," there was a huge upside to each creature seeing and hearing what the other creature saw and heard. At least, if it wasn't hiding. Rei moaned quietly, pitifully in pleasure as he saw your image through the prism of the one who spoke to him. "Calm down. It'll be a while yet, but until then... You need to stay in this body. If you hate it so much... I think you could change it a bit."

"That's right," he said cheerfully, taking off his glasses and breaking them in half. Only one small detail remained. Grabbing the shears from the table and going to the mirror, Rei cut off a long black braid in one motion.

next ⊳

[artist-issues]

Day Five

hey guys!! I know this ask has come a lot later (for my timezone anyway) than normal, I just had a very intense day and was only able to get it out now, so thank you all for your patience!!! <3

~Character in a Book Edition~

if you were a character in a book, what character would you be? (main, best friend of main, comic relief, loveable side character doomed by the plot, annoying one, etc)

what would your story be like?

what genre would you be in? (and saying sci-fi/fantasy/etc is plausible, if you imagine your story would be a 'discovering magical world' trope or something like that, as long as you provide reasons. you can make something up too, like what direction you think your story would go)

who is the antagonist of your story (currently)? (could be a literal person, an idea, a movement you disagree with, or something else. if you're one of my Christian homies doing this you can say the Devil but you must also include something else for ~drama~ lol)

what would the fandom of your book be like?

and finally, would it be a standalone, a series, etc, and why?

thank you guys so much!! I will also start to answer my own questions as well, tommorow when I'm not so tired lol

If I were a character in a book I would be the annoying friend who generally gets in the way of the plot. Like Neville Longbottom, or the best friend with a crappy attitude in a romance. But in the Darkest Hour I get to say something useful.

It would probably be a science fiction adventure, actually! ( I’ve yet to read one of those that I actually like, except for C. S. Lewis’ Ransom Trilogy.) The point of the story would be “You Have No Idea What You’re Talking About, So Follow Orders.” And I guess I’d be the best-friend-turned-screw-up-sidekick to whoever the main character is.

We’re a recovery team sent from our planet’s lab to the site of a crash on a colony moon, to contain an experiment of ours gone wrong. The protagonist wants to escape the stress of being a space soldier, and just recently requested to work with the lab I work at because they thought it would be a more relaxed occupation. It’s not, because the experiment that we’re being sent to retrieve is highly dangerous.

And I’d mess everything up, indirectly, because what I add to the main point is that I keep thinking I know how to follow the protocol on our exploration mission, and lecturing everybody else on it, but actually I apply the “protocol” in all the wrong situations.

And then my protagonist best friend and the other members of our crew resist, because they can see that the protocol I’m following makes no sense when like, an alien rock is trying to eat us or something, but I don’t listen. So then when we get into a bind because I was misapplying the protocol, I never learn my lesson and just keep insisting it’s their fault for resisting my plan.

And the story would be called “Protoplosion.” Because made-up space words are fun.

The antagonist would be a colony of giant genetically engineered space ants, who escaped from our planet’s lab during transportation, and now they’re destroying a foreign planet’s village and ecosystem. They’re behaving exactly as they were designed to, but the problem is, they’re in an environment they don’t belong in, so that’s causing them to ruin everything. The Queen space-lab-insect is the main antagonist.

The fandom of my book would call themselves “Antlers” because the humans that are bitten by the space insects sprout ant-like antenna and can be mind-controlled by the Queen. So the fandom’s inspired by that. And they’re exactly like most fandoms; there are some who just like the original material and genuinely understand it, and then there are some who thought my main character was hot and project their own ideas onto it, because they never liked or understood the actual book that much, they just liked having surrogate-experiences of drama through the story.

It would be a standalone, turned into a miniseries on the CW and expanded to the point where it’s unrecognizable and also way worse than the original.

That was fun, thanks!

[stackthedeck]

I haven't read any of his comics, what did Zeb Wells do?

so i'll be real with I haven't been keeping up with this run, I read the first couple of issues and was like fuck this is ass and decided to wait till the next writer (which is kinda a shame because Wells has written some good stuff in the past) so I've just been picking up the details from mutuals but I pirated the latest issue and god it's worse than I thought (oh shit this got long, rant under the cut)

so Peter and MJ are trapped in an apocalyptic dimension with this dude Paul because sci-fi bullshit, Peter gets sent back and MJ and Paul are trapped there with no other human beings. Peter proceeds to make enemies of the fantastic four and Captain America because he won't say the words "my girlfriend is trapped in an another dimension and I have to save her" but he does say that to Norman fucking Osborn (I don't care that he's "good" now I still can't stand him he's still a manipulative asshole). He gets back to MJ and finds out that more time has passed for her and she's got kids with Paul now.

Listen, Marvel Editorial has been character assassinating Peter Parker for years, I've given up on Peter centered comics past OMD but I'm just so fucking over the way they treat MJ nowadays! And everyone is framing it as "Peter got cucked by Paul" when it should be "MJ was trapped with one man for years in a hellscape and are we sure that she had a choice here?? Are we going to unpack her trauma??" No because it's always about fucking Peter!!

I get it, Marvel editorial wants MJ and Peter separated so Peter can date someone else, fine I'm good with that. But it shows such a flagrant disregard for MJ's humanity that the only way they can imagine doing that is by essentially locking her in a closet with another man. Who the fuck is this Paul guy and why is he entitled to MJ?! She's exposed to all of humanity again and she's like nah hell dimension husband. Like this is literally what Kang did to Captain Marvel like fuck and I understand that Paul isn't a bad actor here but this is so sketchy. If you want a jaded MJ that's been through hell and back in the apocalypse cool we did that in the 80s and it was so much better. MJ is a capable full character that isn't just a hole to be fucked goddamn!!

I'm sick of Peter and MJ being broken up by sci-fi bullshit, MJ has so many fucking reasons to leave his ass, but the fact that their relationship has to end every time through external forces is 1. lazy writing and 2. shows a disregard for MJ's agency in the story. Before one more day when Peter was on the Avengers and they were married and MJ was surrounded by heroes, she was at one of her lowest points emotionally, she felt isolated and overwhelmed and she felt so powerless. This was causing obvious strain on their relationship, if they wanted to break them up, MJ could have said "I can't live like this anymore, I'm not asking you to change, but I'm not cut out for this." but no it was the literal fucking devil!! And I know that Marvel knows that this could have happened because they did it in Life Story!!! Hey remember Judgement Day, where Peter's ultimate reward for being a hero was seeing his high school girlfriend again, not I don't know, getting his children back from the dead?? Yeah, what the fuck did MJ think about that! I want to see MJ lash out at Peter for that if there was ever a time to pull out the "I'm tired of feeling like the runner up to the perfect ghost of Gwen Stacy!" then was the time!!!

they can character assassinate Peter all they want, Miles is the better Spider-Man with the better stories and what I've been reading instead of the new run, but there is no other Mary Jane. Fans already discount the entire era of their marriage because of omd and fans and writers alike boil her down to the slutty party girl so her "cucking" Peter is only going to make it worse and I know she's going to be written out of Spider-Man comics or if she is there she's going to a cardboard cut out of her character. I miss when they were friends, but these writers can't imagine a woman and a man being friends without thinking the woman just wants to sleep with him. I'm fucking sick of the misogyny of the comics industry

[tarrenterror25]

Dancing/Teaching them to dance to Latin music

Rating: T for handsy partners

Character x GN!Latin!Reader

This is a grab bag of characters from different fandoms and some general headcanons I have about them dancing to Latin music with you! For ones that are like fantasy/sci-fi, just imagine it is the Latin equivalent of music in said universe.

These are my own personal thoughts on these characters and I know not everyone will agree and that’s okay! I hope you still enjoy these!

Disclaimer: I can’t dance.

Serious disclaimer: I already struggle with my cultural identity enough and feel comfortable enough to post things like this here. How I experience/d my culture may not be how you experience/d yours and vice versa.

If you see something and don’t like how I’ve interpreted it, described it, what have you, then just move on please.

I am not any less of who I am.

Now onto the fun stuff!

In order, this list is comprised of characters from:

The Warriors (1979) Apex Legends Devil May Cry Star Wars Batman (not DC, just Batman Characters) Marvel

The Warriors (1975)

Swan - You will have to coax him to the dance floor, but he has surprisingly great rhythm. Definitely catches you off guard when he throws in a spin here and there. He’s got the basic moves down and you can help him learn from there.

Ajax - He doesn’t want to dance, but when he sees you moving your hips in that way, he might finally be convinced. You need to be a very patient teacher to help him because he’s just trying to grind against you and isn’t entirely taking your lesson serious. Don’t let it put you off though, when you give him that look that you mean business, he’ll settle down. He’s not the best dancer, but he’s got the spirit! Definitely does better with the faster paced music.

Vermin - Oh boy. He’s also got the spirit, but his dancing is all over the place. He’s having a great time with you, but you’re gonna have to help him reel it in! He’s a great listener and learns the basics pretty fast. You could totally bring him to a family function and he will be the life of the party, he’ll get along great with everyone.

Apex Legends

Loba - You don’t have to ask her to dance and she is not asking you, she’s telling you to come dance. But in a playful way! She knows the moves and has great rhythm so 10/10 a great partner. If you are the one she is having to teach, she’ll gladly do so. She will have to remind herself to let you take the lead if that’s the position you’re trying for. She’s a great teacher and focuses on relaxing you, playing off of whatever moves you bring.

Revenant - No

Kaleb Cross - He’s never really had much time for dancing so he’s clueless. If you guys are out and you ask him to dance he will politely decline. You’ll have to teach him in private. He’s frustrated when he keeps messing up, but play it lighthearted and he’ll relax and get it down. He’s happy to oblige your request for a dance the next time.

Mirage - He’s good! Too good. You can’t keep up. He’s being super extra with his moves, the spins, the dips, he’s doing them all. It’s gonna be a fun time, but you’ll be out of breath by the end of it. He might miss a step here and there, but recovers quickly.

Octane - Huapango and Duranguense are his favorite and he’s definitely got the legs for it. You guys are going to be that couple. You know the one, the one that’s bouncing all over the dance floor. He also loves Zapateado. He’s not one for the slower dances, he’s got way too much energy for that.

Devil May Cry

Dante - He can definitely already dress the part, but doesn’t know the steps all that well. You might try to teach him, but he’s really a go with the flow kind of guy so he’ll tell you to not worry so much about it. Just vibe with the music and it sort of just comes to him as he follows your lead. Keeps up way better than expected at your family function when Payaso de Rodeo comes on. He’s got a huge grin on his face as he flies around the dancefloor.

Nero - Shy boy. Zero clue as to what he’s doing and doesn’t want to embarrass himself. He can’t really keep up with the faster paced music so a slower dance is more his speed. Really gets into the rhythm with Bachata.

Nico - If you ask her to dance, she is so down! Hell yeah! She knows how to move, too. 10/10 great partner whether she’s following or taking the lead. Whatever she doesn’t know, she picks up really fast. Great party guest, your family adores her!

V - He’s also shy, but he sees you sitting there watching all the other couples dancing. He’ll be observant of everyone else’s moves for awhile and then ask you to dance. He’s a laid back type of dancer, he doesn’t need to do all the fancy footwork to make sure you guys fit right in and have a good time.

Vergil - Oh dear. We all saw his demon form bust a move so we know he’s got it in him somewhere deep deep down. He’s into the classics which means whatever he dances with you will be a rendition of some kind of ballroom dancing. He’s read enough about Salsa, Merengue, and Paso Doble type dances to make something happen. It’s a little old fashioned and prim and proper how he moves. Throw a little hip dip into the mix and he’s looking at you like you have just committed the biggest scandal and his face might get red, but he’ll slowly start to get the hang of it.

Star Wars

Qui-Gon Jinn - You don’t have to ask, he’s already holding his hand out for you to take. He’s a Jedi, so you might hesitate especially if you are, too, but he assures you that the two of you have nothing to hide. You affections for each other do not consume the other and he comforts you with the fact that he understands and respects the position that the two of you are in. He’s very familiar, though not proficient, with the steps.

Obi-Wan Kenobi - You invite him to a family function and try to guide him to where everyone is dancing. He’s pretty reserved and insists that he’s alright, but seeing you walk away trying to hide your disappointment convinces him. He’s not one for dancing so you’ll have to show him the steps. Wait does his leg really go there? This feels really intimate to him and he might have some objections, but you assure him that it’s totally normal and not as scandalous as he might think.

Cassian Andor - He dances and he dances well. 14/10 with rhythm. There’s a cantina you two frequent where you go dancing. He loves to dance to any style. You guys are definitely the “regular couple” who look like they know what they’re doing and the dance comes naturally to the two of you. Whether it’s platonic or romantic, he is a welcome staple at your family gatherings. If you show up without him be prepared for an interrogation: “donde esta Cassian?” “Cassian no es contigo?”

Din Djarin - You’re both alone on the Razorcrest and you’re still riding the high from being at whatever cantina/party you guys were at, dancing in the cockpit. You coax him into joining you for a dance. He’ll reluctantly admit he has zero clue as to what he’s doing. He’s willing to learn, but timid with his movements. Bring him to a family function and he’ll shy away, he does better around people who are less likely to see him again.

Boba Fett - Has some knowledge of this style of dancing, enough that you two don’t look totally lost in the sauce. He’s not so sure how socially acceptable his leg/hand placements are or the way you two are moving when you have to stand really close, but with some assurance from you, he’ll get the hang of it. Once he gets comfortable, you two are definitely that spicy couple on the dance floor at the cantina!

Batman

Bruce Wayne - He only knows the basic steps Alfred taught him, enough to get by at parties and social gatherings. He’s nervous, but wants to learn for you. After the first time he failed to get the steps right at whatever party you guys were at, he went home and reluctantly asked Alfred to help him learn to dance so he could surprise you next time. He adores being around your family, the closeness of the gatherings warms him and your family makes sure to make him feel welcome. Bruce even has Alfred help him cook so he can pitch in and bring a dish.

Alfred Pennyworth - Oh, he knows how to dance! Mostly ballroom, but he can adapt and pick up on things quite fast. If you bring him to the family function, he’s sure to impress everyone with his manners and his moves. All the tias at the party are silent and won’t give you any lip! He prefers slower dances with you because he’s not so focused on the steps so much as he is on you. 15/10 your family wants him back at the next carne asada. Oh and tell him to bring the Batfam! They sound lovely!

Harvey Dent - Him, dance to this? No. He’s a big guy and hard to miss which means any mistakes he might make will be noticeable. He wants to save himself the embarrassment. Maybe when a slower song comes on. He’s really sorry, but promises to somehow make it up to you. He’s definitely beating himself up. If you manage to get him out on the dance floor, he’s too worried about how he looks to focus on just enjoying himself.

Two-Face - Does not give a single fuck about how he looks. He knows a few moves and will surprise you with some fancy spins. He’s wayyy more confident in his abilities than Harvey. He’s more open to learning what he doesn’t know and definitely enjoys the close contact with you. Is it you or is it hot in here??

Bane - 15/10. Being from Santa Prisca, the man knows what he’s doing. He knows how to dance and has the best footwork despite his size. If anything, he’s teaching you how to dance. Romantic/sensual dances like Bachata are his favorite to do with you. Always welcome to the family gatherings.

Black Mask - Similar to Bruce, he knows enough to get by. What gets him interested in learning is being out at a club and seeing other guys asking you to dance. That is not going to fly. He’ll guide you to the dance floor and be open to your teachings if it mean getting everyone else to back off of you. He picks up pretty well and forgets being paranoid/angry. 9/10 he is very interested in doing this again with you.

Jason Todd - Oh yeah, he’s got this down. Not afraid to spice it up on the dance floor with how he holds you or where his hands are. Dancing with him is intense when you’re among strangers like at a club, but with family he’s much more tame. Being with the Batfam, he’s great with your siblings and cousins. He’s definitely the bad boy/rebel of the bunch, but he’s yours!

Marvel

Steve Rogers - Well he did kinda skip this part of his life, but if he backed down from a challenge then he wouldn’t be the hero he is today. You pull him to the dance floor and he is all for it. The basics are there, but he’ll need some work. You mention returning to a club or a family gathering coming up and he asks that you practice some moves with him. To your surprise, he dances Cumbia pretty damn well.

Bucky Barnes - He’s still adjusting to just being Bucky again so he won’t come easily if you try to get him on the dance floor. Once he’s out there with you, he’s shy and reserved, suddenly it’s like he forgot how to even do a basic school side-to-side shuffle. Be patient and help him along and he’ll fall back into the flow of the moves. He really likes dancing Norteñas and loosen him up enough and he’ll come around to Cumbia.

Peter Parker - God he knows he can’t dance, but he really wants to impress you so before you guys go out, he researches latin dances and the music styles. He wants to be bold and take initiative so he asks you to dance first. He’s nervous at first and might ramble all the facts he learned during his research: did you know what is cited as the first cumbia outside of Columbia is "La Cumbia Cienaguera"? Totally just know that from a book he read and not during his late night deep dive on the internet. He’s an 8/10 on applying what he learned!

Loki - Are you sure this is how he’s supposed to hold you? This feels really intimate. Kinda wishing he hadn’t been goaded by Thor into asking you to dance. He’s the better dancer of the two of them, but it occurs to him now that he has no idea what he’s doing. He’s gonna ask you to trust him and he’ll improvise a lot, but somehow it works!

Ultron - That’s really cute. You’re so adorable. Wait, you’re serious?

Ulysses Klaue - No one can convince me that he can’t dance. I am firm in my belief that he can and he has way too much fun with it. Judging from the singing to Haddaway, he digs house music and has visited many a club. He’s traveled a lot so I have no doubt that he can do Latin dances. He’s a little silly about it so you’ll have to reel him in a bit.

Venom (not MCU, but still Marvel) - Eddie is down, but Venom is EXCITED. Yes, Venom would love to dance let’s go! It’ll be difficult to dance since Eddie and Venom will probably be at war with each other on how to go about moving in one body and with you since they both have different ideas of what they should be doing. You’ll help bring some balance between them; Eddie will be comfortable while Venom will still get to express themself.

✨✨✨

That’s it! These are ones I just had on the top of my head, there’s plenty others I could have done, but didn’t have much to write about or I’d need to go back and watch/read some stuff to get a better idea.

[somethingusefulfromflorida]

I was tagged by @onmywaytonarnia so here's some stuff about me

Nickname: Florida Man or just Florida (god help me, I hate it down here...)

Sign: PEDESTRIAN X-ING, REST AREA - 3 MILES, or perhaps SPEEDING FINES DOUBLED WHEN WORKERS PRESENT (I do not believe in astrology)

Height: 6'1" or 6'2"

Last thing I googled: Perseverance rover

Song stuck in my head: for some reason I have a mashup of Iris by the Goo Goo Dolls and Breakaway by Kelly Clarkson stuck in my head. I don't know if I actually heard a mashup somewhere, or if they were both part of that 4-chords song by Axis of Awesome, but I can't stop thinking of the two choruses layered on top of each other (🎶and I don't want the world to see me cause I don't think that they'd understand/🎶I'll spread my wings and I'll learn how to fly🎶)

Follower count: officially 3222, but I noticed when I was just starting out that tumblr inflated the actual count by like 20, 30, 40%. When it said I had 100 followers, I counted, and I actually had 85. When it said I had 1000, I only had like 700. I stopped counting after that, so I have no clue how many I actually have right now. Probably more than 1000, but probably not more than 2000. I have maybe 100 followers who regularly interact with my stuff, about 30 of whom are mutuals (maybe 10 or 15 close friends).

Amount of aleep: AHAHAHAHAHAHA (5, maybe 6 hours on a good night? Sometimes none, just endless tossing and turning because my brain won't shut off)

Lucky number: 13, and I'm not being ironic about that. I'm serious. 13 is my favorite number of a variety if personal reasons

Dream job: I want to be part of a creative team, I want to work with a bunch of people to make something for people to see! I want to make art, and I want to collaborate so I'm not alone. Writing scripts or making props or dressing sets, some manner of production design. I want to craft!

Wearing: Goodfellow t-shirt and cargo shorts

Movie/book that summarizes me: Project Hail Mary by Andy Weir feels like it was written for me personally. That is how my thought process works, that is how I deal with problems, that is who I want to be. I have a higher than average understanding of math and science but I always try to explain it in as simple terms as possible for people who find it all too daunting. This is the kind of book I want to write, sci-fi that explains the sci.

Favorite songs: Ramblin Man, the Gambler, Country Roads, the Devil Went Down to Georgia (I'm noticing a country pattern...), anything by Weird Al Yankovic (Hardware Store and Albuquerque are probably my top 2 of his),the Little Shop of Horrors movie soundtrack, White Squall and Northwest Passage by Stan Rogers (I went through a sea shanty phase when Wellerman was big), anything by Jonathan Coulton (Skullcrusher Mountain, Code Monkey, Blue Sunny Day, Big Wide World One, Shop Vac, Mandelbrot Set, to name a few), Climb Out Your Window, Addicted, and Here We Go by Walk off the Earth, and the Celtic Woman cover of Danny Boy (this is my go-to cry song; if I need a nice long cry, I put this on and it all comes flowing out of me)

Favorite instrument: I love brass, trumpet specifically, I could listen to Louis Armstrong all day

Aesthetic: analog technology, typewriters, instant photography, clockwork watches without quartz, sacrificing convenience for the sake of privacy, nostalgia for the early 2000s (but through the eyes of a child, so no George W. Bullshit)

Favorite author: per capita, Andy Weir. He's only written 3 books, but I love them all and want to emulate him. Max Brooks for World War Z. Cormac McCarthy for The Road (very depressing, but hopeful near the end; one of the only books to really tug at my heartstrings). John Steinbeck for Of Mice and Men (another heartstring tugger). Audrey Niffenegger for The Time Traveler's Wife.

Currently reading: Good Omens by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman

Favorite colors: cyan, lime green, heliotrope purple

Favorite animal sounds: the scuttling of crabs on pavement, the sneef-snorfing of a curious dog, the bleat of a baby goat, the EHHH of a baby sloth, the MEHH of a baby deer, the chirping of bats, ethereal whale songs

Last song: either I'm Going to go Back There Someday from the Muppet Movie, or Hey I Don't Work Here by Tom Cardy

Last Series: Owl House (Lulu + Hootcifer 4ever!!! Oh yeah and lumity's pretty good too I guess)

Random: I once learned all the lyrics to Bobby Darin's Mack the Knife without ever actually listening to the lyrics of Mack the Knife. Like, I listened to the song all the time, but I never paid attention to what was being said. It was just gibberish to me, but I learned the gibberish, and I sang along to it in the car one day and my mom asked why I was so enthusiastic about murder. Turns out Mack the Knife is about an old londontown ripper named Macheath. Still a banger though.

@goldenmoldies @olivia-online @nsomniacsdream @schifty-al @richardjager @n-brio @orange-birdie

[sgt-morgan]

The Audible Experience

DD Masterlist

Well, I finally started watching Daredevil!

“Mathew, I read you the giving tree. I have that memorized. I can’t read aloud all the time.” You give a breathy laugh in mock frustration.

“But I like your voice better!” He huffs as you continue to type in your card information for the subscription to audible.

“Mathew, you’re blind and I’m dyslexic, let’s leave the reading to the professionals? Or, even better, almost every book known to man is in braille now, YOU can read to ME!”

You laugh, putting your hands on your hips, you know it’s a worthless gesture but he can probably feel it in the air or something.

“Okay, point taken!” He laughs, reaching to hand you your credit card.

“It’s at 9 o’clock,” you laugh, “don’t knock my water over.”

“I know, I know!” Matt laughs handing you the offensive piece of plastic.

“Now, start thinking of books to read, I’m starting with the Ender’s Game novels.” You giggle buying a few extra credits to fluff out your library for your first few times.

“Why a sci-fi coming of age novel from the 80’s?” Matt smirked wrinkling his nose in confusion.

“Because, the novels, especially the sequel, pose a very fascinating moral and legal quandary about the discovery of new life and Xenocide.” You shrug, “You’re catholic, it should, theoretically, be right up your alley!”

“Okay, that’s fair. But if I’m not mistaken, you cannot say the same about the Hunger Games.” Matt laughs as your thumb pauses over the download button.

“Okay now THAT’S just freaky, there is no possible way for you to discern that from anything I just did.” You gape, eyes wide in what Matt assumed to be a very comical version of shock.

“Nope, no freaky sense needed, I just know you very well.” Matt laughed using his hand to snap your floundering mouth shut.

“Okay, fine, But I’m not reading The Devil in the White City. No serial killers for me, I got one devil in my life and that’s more than enough!” You say settling back into Matt’s side.

“Oh wow! How did you know?” He asked looking rather impressed at your guess work.

“I saw you fingering a copy of it at that book store with the braille section.” You shrug.

“I could be fingering other things.” Matt smirks wiggling his eyebrows face forward.

“Matthew! I’m appalled, Jesus is listening you know.” You laughed, throwing a pillow at his head that he didn’t attempt to dodge.

After your afternoon of debating books, you settled on your first four. Orson Scott Card’s Enders Game, Steven King’s Black House, Frank Herbert’s Dune, and William Goldman’s The Princess Bride.

You worked your way through each title, some new, some treasured favorites. These little pockets of time that you had carved out to read were your favorite. Some nights you and Matt would snuggle up to one another and drink a glass of wine letting the book play, just reveling in each others company. These nights were always pleasant, normally accompanied by Matt feeling out your features, or gently placing his hands on your pulse points one at a time. Your very skin seeming to soothe him.

Some nights you would put together a puzzle while you listened, hands fidgety and restless needing a menial task to help you concentrate. (Your favorite instance of this was when Matt bought an all red puzzle, the objective being much harder than a normal puzzle, so that he could show you how worthless he thought your pastime was. (He ended up enjoying it so much he bought you 7 more.)

Some nights you were overstimulated, Matt’s super senses were always tough to navigate, and you also tended to get overly stimulated in your own way. Sometimes for you, the lights were too bright all day and you would rest next to Matt , audiobook lulling you back to yourself as he kept his hand resting over your eyelids to block out the harsh glow of the billboard outside of the apartment. Sometimes it played into your sound proof headphones, hands placed over top of the headphones in Matt’s ears in an attempt to block as much noise as possible. It was always a perfect distraction on those nights when all you needed most, was to escape.

The nights you loved best though, we’re the ones where you conversed non stop, forcing yourselves to pause the novel to talk about plot points that tickled your brain, or struck a cord. You loved being able to pick Matt’s brain in any situation, so taking advantage of his longing to understand a plot, or see your enjoyment for something he thought to be dreadful, or something fascinating about how the law would work in that scenario, always felt rewarding.

Each book had its own fascinating qualities. You picked them mostly based on your mutual enjoyment of certain topics.

Ender’s Game was of course your pick, it was the book series that sparked your interest in ethics. If you hadn’t read this novel, you had explained to your loving partner, you wouldn’t have become a lawyer.

“Okay wait, so its illegal to have three kids?”

Yes Mathew, they have a surplus population and it’s to prevent overcrowding the planet.”

You sigh.

“So they get to have three because?” Matt questions, asking softballs so he can tee up for his big point.

“His sister was too nice, his brother was too

Mean.” You shrug, “ Needed someone who’s compassionate nature would allow them to understand the enemy in order to defeat them.”

“So Ender was just a terrible weapon, from age six, and they figured this all out by letting him kill another child?” Matt says outraged.

“Yes Mathew, that’s correct.” You nod brushing hair from his eyes.

“Hiram Graff is a war criminal.” Matt grumbles, once again pressing play on the novel.

Steven King’s Black House was the sequel to his first novel The Talisman, and your second audio book. You had both read the first novel together in the book club, where you met, in college. Your interest in the ethics of sending a child on a deadly cross country road trip, and your scathing false take down of the Sunlight Gardner’s Children’s Home were what endeared you to Matt, he found it particularly adorable that a fake scenario could make you this angry. He thought it a sin you hadn’t bothered to see where the rest of the story went, so it went on the list.

“Oh my god Matt, I’ll never drink beer again.” You shudder, nauseated by the description of a horrific death in the novel.

“Yeah, almost makes you wanna stop drinking forever.” Matt nods in affirmation.

“Also, that crow? I’m so disgusted. That’s deranged Matthew. Jack needs a break. If I were Jack, Speedy Parker would have a broken nose.” You sigh, for once thankful Matt’s apartment was never fully dark.

“I know, but hey, I’m glad you’re not a detective! Or a magical kid from LA! You also don’t have to hunt down a serial killer.” He laughs cheerfully.

“Your right! All I have to do is pin down a mafioso and his crew of neighborhood ruining cronies.” You laugh, “well, Jack and I at least have one thing in common!” You sigh.

“What’s that?” Mat laughs stroking your hair as you lay in his lap.

“We can sleep when we’re dead!”

Dune was another classic from your youth. You had read it as a child with your father, and you thought it would be nice to share a story so close to your heart with someone else. You also thought that the politics of it all would be interesting to your favorite vigilante, and enjoyed making jokes about a certain Wilson Fisk being quite similar to the titular villain in the novel.

“Oh my God!” Foggy cackles as you begin to impersonate Wilson Fisk. You had come into work that day, and every one was down in the dumps, so you tried to make light of it with jokes.

“This is MY CITY! MY HELLS KITCHEN! MY DUNE!” You shout in his gravelly style, doing a very poor job of catching his essence.

“Oh my God that’s awful!” Matt laughed, “The dune quote? Really?”

“Yes my dear Piter! He who controls the Heroine controls the universe!” You laugh manically.

“That was Madam Gao.” Foggy said swiping a tear from his eye.

“Yeah, well, joke’s still good.” You shrug.

“We’re gonna have to take their audible subscription!” Karen laughed, “ I won’t survive anymore of this Dune.”

“Ah, but Karen! The mystery of life isn’t a problem to solve, but a reality to experience, and you are experiencing the very best that science fiction has to offer!” You smile kissing Matt on the head as you stood from your seat. “Now my children, who needs a cup of coffee!” You smile.

“Ah, yes, the spice water. I’m assuming the sleeper must awaken?” Foggy grins and you gasp.

“Ah! Foggward! You do know Dune!” You laugh.

“Yes Y/n, I too did not get laid in college!” Foggy laughed, and Matt smiled.

“Oh yes I did! Ask Matt!”

After Dune, there was Matt’s final choice. William Goldman’s The Princess Bride. This, to you, was a shock. The Princess Bride was one of your favorite films, and one of the last Matt ever saw that left enough of an impression for him to care. What you DIDN’T know is that unlike you and your ability to rewatch the movie with great pleasure, After Matt went blind, instead of watching the film over and over, he opted for the book in braille.

“Darling? Did you drink the whole pot of coffee?” You shouted to Matt as you stared in disbelief at the empty coffee pot.

“Indeed I did.” He said solemnly from where he sat, running his hands over a legal document.

“That’s not fair Matthew! I made that pot for me and Karen!” You whined going to fill up the pot for the third time that day.

“Life isn't fair, it's just fairer than death,that’s all.” Matt sniggered.

“Shut up Matthew.”

“Sorry love.”

The Princess bride became your comfort story. You were sick? Princess bride. Couldn’t sleep? Princess Bride. Beat to hell and back? Princess bride. You started quoting it more and more in everyday life, and Karen and Foggy thought it was adorable, and so did you.

“Matt, why are we reading it if you know it line for line!” You giggled one night while you were laying in bed listening to Matt quote one of his favorite lines.

“Because, it reminds me of us!” Matt laughed. “I’m the Man in Black, and you’re my Buttercup.” He smirked.

“Matt that was terrible!” You laughed, “You don’t wear a black suit anymore!”

“Eh, it seemed like that romantic stuff you’d love so I went for it.” He smiled softly at you stroking your hair. “Ooh! Here’s the best line.

‘There is no room in my body for anything but you. My arms love you, my ears adore you, my knees shake with blind affection. My mind begs you to ask it something so it can obey. Do you want me to follow you for the rest of your days? I will do that. Do you want me to crawl? I will crawl. I will be quiet for you or sing for you, or if you are hungry, let me bring you food, or if you have thirst and nothing will quench it but Arabian wine, I will go to Araby, even though it is across the world, and bring a bottle back for your lunch. Anything there is that I can do for you, I will do for you; anything there is that I cannot do, I will learn to do.’ It’s perfect I think.” Matt smiles nuzzling into your neck.

In that moment you’re so totally captivated you find it hard to breathe. Matt of course could tell this and kept that little devilish grin on his face as you stared at him with moon eyes, glazed over in total affection.

“I would do anything for you, my Buttercup.” Matt smiled, loving the smell of your skin and the frantic beating of your heart.

“Do I love you?” You smiled, purposefully sounding puzzled, making Matt chuckle softly. “My God, if your love were a grain of sand, mine would be a universe of beaches.”

To sum up this final moment, more perfect words were ever said than were said in The Princess Bride.

“Since the invention of the kiss, there have only been five kisses that were rated the most passionate, the most pure. This one left them all behind.”

[tatooedlaura-blog]

Neckhole Wrestling

The fourth series reads as follows:

Apple Balancing ... Potential ... The Newbies ... The Dessert ... Dinosaurs and Cannibalism ... Sassy Sprinklepants ... The Secret Vault of Mudlerness ... Taco Night ...

To catch up: First series … Second series ...  Third series

@today-in-fic

&&&&&&&&&&

The world was calm for a beautifully short time; Mulder breathing a little easier every day Doggett and Harrison walked through the door. They were quick learners, arguing amicably, which was unheard of for new partners. Mulder listened to them, interjected often, watched them work through things, and in the end, began to get that feeling in his stomach.

Going home one night, late in August, and kissing Scully, he took a deep breath of baby shampoo and Desitin before, “well, it’s happening.”

“What’s happening?”

“The apprentices are catching on.”

After handing Will to Mulder, she folded her arms, giving him a scrutinizing look that would have crippled lesser men than he, “and how are you feeling about that?”

“I thought about that on the way home.” Walking past her and heading to the kitchen, son against his shoulder, “and I have discovered that, while unnerved and slightly sad, I realized I was coming home to you and smallness here and I was much less unnerved and sad than I ever would have thought possible.”

She absorbed this new development in Mulder’s core being in stride, “conclusion?”

“We should go out to dinner, introduce the kid to our first date Mexican place, and discuss how much money we need to open that donut shop of ours.”

Scully, deciding that she would just have to wait this out, nodded, “think he’s ready for salsa yet?”

“Sure, as long as you change the diapers for the next three days.”

“Think we can go to the bookstore?”

“As long as you don’t live out your life-long fantasy of feeding our son salsa before the age of 10.”

She kissed him, “give me ten minutes to get ready.”

Corky had hung a sign explaining the bookstore’s closure to a suitably disappointed Mulder and Scully, “closed for flu and subsequent Indiana Jones marathon. Back on Wednesday. Peace.”

“Do you think that we could open our bakery next door? I think I would like to have him as a neighbor.”

Mulder looked over at her, hiking Will’s carrier back up, “works for me.” Turning her towards Mexican with a nudge to her side, “but right now, I’m starving. Move it.”

Midway between tortilla #3 and margarita #1, Scully gave Mulder a look, her eyes just beginning to swim a poor doggy paddle through waist-high cheap tequila, “are you really ready to leave the FBI?”

Sipping his second glass of designated driver ice tea, Mulder tilted at her, head assuming his patent ‘I am feeling mellow enough to answer your question quite honestly, no matter how much it might unnerve you’ 36-degree angle, “I think that … I want to come home to you … and Will … and not wonder if I’m being followed in the process.”

“We can’t open a donut shop.”

A smile twitched the corner of his mouth, amused she hadn’t lost her contractions yet, “we can do whatever we want. What’s the one thing you’ve always wanted to do but didn’t have the money or the education or the … the,” waving his hands at her, “the courage to do?”

There was enough tequila in her system to answer honestly, “I have always wanted, don’t laugh, to be an astronaut.”

Mulder sat back, dumbfounded, “shit. You would pick the one thing I can’t afford to give you.”

She laughed, picking her fork back up, aiming the tines in his direction, “I think that you should finish out the year, and then, we will look into finding a nice, little house with an office where you can write sci-fi adventure novels about our travels and I can point out all the inaccuracies about your memories of our travels and then we will take road trips every summer and cozy up on the couch every winter.”

“And go to Babar?”

“We will buy a whole beach’s worth of Babar’s so each family can have one and we can all visit together. We’ll be the terrors of Kill Devil Hill.”

Mulder grinned, filing away the astronaut wish as well as a mental note to see how much that little vacant storefront on the other side of Corky’s bookstore was going for.

&&&&&&&&&&

Sooner rather than later, they were home; Will in his crib, fast asleep, full of oatmeal and milk (not salsa) while Scully was sitting in Mulder’s lap on the couch, “Mulder, I believe I am still under the influence of the margarita.”

His hands on her hips, his sober mind pinpoint focused on her breasts eight inches from his face, “I believe you are, too.”

“I also think that you are wearing too many clothes.”

“I believe you are, too.”

In a flurry of neckhole wresting, Scully getting stuck twice and needing rescuing, they were eventually naked, Scully sliding slowly down on him while he continued to hold her upright, “you know what else I want?”

“I can imagine exactly what you want right now.”

As she slowly began moving up and off him, slipping back down, slightly erratic rhythm made up for with clenching muscles and a tongue that made his head spin, “we talked about it before, I think, but I want another baby. I want four or five more, actually, but I’ll settle for making just one right now.” Wigging herself even further onto him, both groaned in unison, “can we do that, Mulder? Can we make another one?”

Words were difficult but the idea was sound as he told her in broken breaths, “I can’t … guarantee … but I am always … willing … to try.”

Half-drunk hand floating down to her clit, sweet strawberry breath against his neck, breast in his hand while the other grabbed her ass, she rode him, couch springs squeaking, slippery sweat slide of legs and chest. Coming faster and harder than both expected, instead of crying out, she had the forethought, hazy as it was, to bury her filthy words in a cushion instead of echoing them off the walls.

It was the dirty words and crystalline fantasies she mumbled as she fucked him that brought him over the edge right behind her, September heat wave having nothing on the joined pair of them moving their world on nine square feet of leather real estate.

The aftermath made him smile, an attack of the giggles rolling her body as she still held him hostage. He would give her the universe and everything in it just to hear that laugh, her lurching chest against him, her arms around his neck. He laughed with her, no idea why but when he laughed, she jerked and shimmied, finally, getting out, between inhales, “when you laugh, you twitch and things move.”

He laughed again and she popped upright, off him in an instant, still giggling, “don’t. Your twitches and my twitches don’t match.”

Oh, good God, he loved her more ever second of every day.

&&&&&&&&&&

They didn’t mention that night again, moving drunken wishes and unfulfilled fantasies to the backburner. Mulder stayed in DC more, letting Doggett and Harrison take cases on their own, a phone call away but still, as Scully whispered to herself in disbelief, at home with her and Will.

At home with her and Will and, from what the little drugstore stick told her, the latest addition to the Scully-Mulder household.

The news of which she happily surprised him with, in the most Mulder way she could possibly think of …

[a34trgv2]

The Problem With Boring Executions

No one likes being bored, which is why we watch movies, TV shows, YouTube videos or play games to pass the time. Yet every so often I find myself watching a show or movie that's just so boring. This post is going to vent my frustrations on boring executions and how to avoid these pitfuls.

Anything that's meant to entertain can be boring for a myriad of reasons. These can range from one dimensional characters, formulaic writing, a severe lack of funny humor or dull visuals. I remember being immensely bored with shows like The Baskervilles, School For Vampires and Street Football for these very reasons. I Care A Lot and The Devil All The Time immediately come to mind as among the most boring films I've seen on Netflix due to the uninteresting characters and dower stories. Then there's a particular film that got under my skin because of how boring it was: The Happy Criticket. Don't worry, no one remembers this film (except Mr. Coat who made a video tearing it apart:https://youtu.be/OoL6VQpvpqo) because it did nothing memorable throughout its 88 minutes runtime except having annoying and unremarkable characters. Boring executions are frustrating because by the time they're done, I feel like I spent an eternity waiting for the good part that never came. Now this is the part where I chastise the people behind this bore fests and call them "lazy" and "untalented hacks"...y'all listen to too many bad critics 🤷‍♂️

This is Marc Price, the writer and director of a sci-fi film called Dune Drifter. While I thought it was a rather boring film, I have nothing but respect for this man and his crew for trying to make a sci-fi movie like the ones they grew up with. The frustrating thing about movies and TV shows with boring executions is that very talented people are behind these works. I want to root for them and see them have long lasting careers in filmmaking. The thing is though, I can only give so much praise to them when their efforts amount to a film I just don't care for. I learned from the philosophies of Mr. Coat to always respect filmmakers and showrunners for their hard work, even if I don't like the end product.

How does one avoid boring the audience? Well, that's not an easy question to answer because nobody knows what everybody wants. I have my own suggestions for avoiding a boring execution, but yours may different and that's cool. For starters, I like being on the main character's side from the beginning all the way to the end. This allows me to want to follow them on the journey. I like a good joke but a constant barage of gags can be tiresome if they aren't all funny; and not every joke is going to be funny. So I think making some jokes every now and then is a fair balance to not distract from the story. Speaking of, I like playing around with familar tropes and plotlines to shake things up. Instead of playing the dumb blonde as straight as a log, I think it'd be more interesting to have the blonde be quirky but smart and resourceful. That way you can still have the blonde be funny without downgrading their intelligence. As for visuals, I suggest going as far as you can to make the visuals as eye popping as the story is strong. I love moments where we just take in the amazing atmosphere while we're on a journey with the characters. Again, these are suggestions that'll keep ME from being bored while watching a piece of entertainment. I stand by that creators should make whatever they want and the producers should help them realize their vision while still trying to keep things relatively within budget.

At the end of the day, boring executions are no one's favorite type of execution. Whether it's the bland, formulaic story, the unengaging and weak characters, dull and unremarkable visuals, or a severe lack of funny humor, a boring execution is nothing short of a frustrating exercise to not fall alseep. To conclude, I want to say to all filmmakers and showrunners, including the ones that made shows and movies that I thought were boring; you are all talented, amazing people who have my respect because you're following your passion. Don't let my boredom of your product get you down. Keep trying and keep creating ✌️

[andyet-here-we-are]

I Would Get Into Millions of Accidents Just to See You, Chapter 2 (aka Nurse Geralt AU)

(ao3: x

Chapter 1 Tumblr Link: x )

Geralt is not someone who is an active social media user. He has never been.

Hell, he wouldn’t even use WhatsApp if he didn’t have to.

He thinks that apps like this make people so accessible, and leaves little privacy, and ironically, despite it’s called “social media” it makes people less social. He has lost count of how many times he has seen a group of friends sitting somewhere and scrolling through some apps on their phone or something instead of talking to each other.

Of course, it depends on one’s use, but from what he can tell, whenever you’re online, people tend to think that you have all the time in the world.

So no, thank you very much. He likes his privacy.

Whenever he says that “Social media is for people who don’t have nothing better and important to do,” Ciri just gives him The Look ™ and says: “Okay, boomer.”

He has no idea what the hell it’s supposed to mean, but he is sure it’s not something good.

Once Ciri had downloaded some dating app on his phone without his permission while he was sleeping his ass off after a very tiring night shift. That little match-maker of a girl.

And not only that, but also she had said: “I texted some of the users for you! The ones I thought you might like. One of them seemed nice, I like her energy. So, anyway, long story short, you have a date this weekend. You can thank me later.”

“Excuse me, you did what?!”

Needless to say, Ciri wasn’t allowed to use the internet for three days after that.

“I just want you to be happy,”  on the third day, Ciri had said out of the blue while they were reading I, Robot together —they were both into sci-fi, and reading was a great escape from thinking about all the things going on in life.

“You deserve love. Everyone does. Your whole life is nothing but me and your job, and… You deserve happiness, dad. You deserve love.”

“Come here,” Geralt had said, opening his arms wide for her to embrace him, which Ciri had applied.

“I am happy, pumpkin.”

“You could be happier… If there was someone you loved and dated—”

“Ciri, look. Love is… A beautiful thing.” he started ‘Even though it can be hurtful,’ was left unsaid.

“But love doesn’t necessarily mean the affection between a couple. It doesn’t just mean romantic love. Love can be in many forms, shapes, and different ways. Love of self, of animals, of nature, friends, family… We experience love every day when you think about it. You can find it in everything.  Even in a slice of homemade pie that Mrs. April brought us today.”

“I love pie! But dad, I doubt that if a slice of pie can tell you that you look lovely today. A cutie-pie on the other hand—”

“Ciri, have you been even listening to me?”

“…and a pie can’t run their fingers through your hair-”

Geralt sighs, “Why am I even trying?”

“Deep down you know I’m right. Dad… How about you just… give her a chance? For me? Just see how it goes?”

"Is it gonna make you happy if I do that?”

“So happy!”

“And you’re not gonna do something like that ever again.”

“Promise!”

“Not downloading stupid apps on my phone, and not trying to set me up.”

“You got it, Cap!”

Geralt had met with that woman, and they just didn’t click.

True to her word, Ciri never has done something like that again.

***

Geralt is not someone who likes social media.

But there he is, looking at the musician’s posts instead of sleeping—even though he has to get up early as always tomorrow—scrolling through the app, and feeling like a high school girl with a stupid crush.

He reads every little caption the musician had written.

Surprisingly- well, maybe not so surprisingly- his songs aren’t the only thing he posts about.

He posts about random things; sometimes it’s a pretty flower he came across this morning, sometimes it’s a kitten, a book he is currently reading, food recipes, his drawings, things like that.

His account seems like just his personality.

Filled with all the beautiful colors in the word. Filled with joy, and every little thing he shares feels so sincere. Personal.

[I tried that recipe @Brianricci has sent me and it still feels like there are fireworks in my stomach, so here’s a little drawing for you my life-saver pasta-mate.]

That one makes Geralt smile. Reminds him of that day.

***

“I have something for you, Mr. Should Have Been A Model But Became A Nurse For Some Reason. Not that I’m complaining, for the record. The only thing I have complaints about is your hospital’s awful food. So awful that it should be illegal. A sin, even. You’re sinning whenever you guys force people to eat that food. I can only imagine your staff’s weekly confessing: ‘Forgive me father for I’ve sinned.’

‘What’s wrong, immortal one? What did you do?’

‘Oh, father, even bathing myself in holy water can’t cleanse me from my sins! I made my patient eat that awful food, I had to, father! I had to! I had no choice! But I have faith that I can change that one day!’

‘Faith becomes you. Stay with it. Keep fighting the good fight with all thy might.’

God help him this man is so ridiculous.

“Why are you suddenly Anthony Hopkins from The Rite?”

“Eh, just felt like it,” Jaskier shrugs “Your jello is pretty good though, so, good deed point. And your nurses aren’t half bad either, so I heard.”

Jaskier winks at him.

The audacity of that man.

“Anyway! As I was saying, I have something for you—”

“I have something for you, too, Mr. Pankratz,” Geralt says. He has a good guess about what Jaskier has for him.

A drawing of a flower.

He had heard the staff talking about how the pretty patient in room 242 has been giving flower drawings to pretty much everyone while he was walking around.

“Why thank you, you shouldn’t have! You brought some wine for me or something? For the celebration for my third week here? You’re so kind, my good sir.”

“It’s your medicines.”

“…ever the heartbreaker. I take back everything I said. You’re the devil in disguise.”

After Geralt gives him his medicines, Jaskier pulls a scratch book under his pillow and carefully tears a page from it. He gives it to Geralt.

“I thought I was the devil in disguise?” The nurse says as he takes the drawing from him “Are you sure that you should give demons a flower draw—”

Geralt can’t finish his sentence.

Because what he is looking at certainly is not a flower drawing.

It’s a man who holds a syringe in his hand with a kind smile on his face, and the syringe is filled with cute little hearts.

It’s him.

There’s a giant cactus standing behind him for some reason Geralt finds it hard to understand why.

He has seen the other drawings, and they are nothing like this one. This one looks like Jaskier has tried his hardest to make it perfect. Put everything in it. It’s perfect and detailed as if he had drawn it while looking at Geralt. It also seems familiar for some reason.

“—in conclusion, devils are fallen angels, so…” Geralt hears Jaskier talking.

Yet he is too busy to say something as he keeps looking at the drawing in his hands.

“Ooops, did I go too far with the hearts?”

“Hm.”

“Geralt? Say something, please? Oh God, I broke my nurse. They’re sooo gonna sue me. And I don’t think I can afford a good lawyer, I’ll rot in jails, I’m too young to rot in jails, I can’t be someone’s bitch, I’m not even—”

“May I ask why is there a cactus standing behind me?”

“A comment! Phew! Finally! Well, that would be because you’re just like a cactus.”

Geralt raises an eyebrow.

“Better than being a weed, Dandelion.”

Jaskier holds his hand to his chest and gasps, feigning offense.

“Words hurt, Geralt. Words hurt.

I meant it as, like, let’s face it, you’re kinda prickly on the outside sometimes, but soft on the inside? A cactus in the desert.”

Geralt sighs.

“And now you imply that my hospital is a desert. How nice. What’s next?”

“You don’t like it?”

“It’s okay.”

It’s obviously more than okay, but teasing with the young man is fun, and everyone needs some fun in their lives once in a while.

“If you don’t appreciate my drawing just give it back,” Jaskier makes grabby hands as he pouts like a little kid that just dropped his ice cream,  “I’m pretty sure it’ll look good on my fridge anyway. No trouble for me.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

“I’m not giving this back. Too late, you should’ve thought that before you gave it to me. Can’t take it back now.”

“If you don’t say something nice about my spectacular drawing you can be sure that I’m gonna take it back from your hands even if that means putting up a fight.”

“How bold of you to think that you’re in a condition to put up a fight.”

“You’d be surprised. And if I can’t, your other nurse friends and your fellow patients can do it for me. I haven’t been handing out flower drawings for nothing all day.”

“And you say I am the devil in disguise.”

“I never said I was an angel, have I? Seriously though, you have ten seconds to pay a compliment to my drawing. Ten—”

“ ‘Okay’ was a compliment.”

“I beg to differ, since when ‘okay’ is a compliment? Say that to the Italian chef in Mamma Mia when he asks how is the pasta and see if he takes ‘okay’ as a compliment and doesn’t pour half-full pasta plate over your head, and ruin your favorite bee shirt. Also, nine.”

“That was oddly specific. Did that happen to you?”

“Eight, I have no idea what you’re talking about, I was just being hypothetical. Seven, six—”

“I bet he wouldn’t threaten me with taking my meal back if I did at least.”

“Sev— wait a second I was counting backwards, weren’t I? Where were we? Five!”

“Man, you’re really no good at math.”

“Wanna know what I’m good at? Many things, and fighting happens to be one of them. Four, ” Jaskier attempts to get up from the bed, somehow forgetting about his broken leg for a split second and swears: “Ah, cock!”

Geralt barely holds back a laugh at that one.

“Careful.”

“I can still verbally fight you.”

“You’ve been already doing that for the last five minutes.”

“…three.”

“You never give up, do you?” Geralt rolls his eyes with a smile, “It’s a good drawing. I really like it.”

Another lie.

He doesn’t just like it, he loves it.

But even saying that he likes it is enough to make Jaskier beam at him.

“You gave everyone a flower drawing,” he points out  “but I get a cactus and a drawing of myself, why is that? It must have taken some time to draw this.”

“A special drawing for a special nurse.” Not making eye contact, Jaskier says so softly that Geralt nearly misses it. “Yeah, it sure took some time to draw it, and my schedule was so full because of all the crazy hospital parties you guys keep throwing that I could hardly find the time, but eh, I managed somehow.”

“Sucks that they never invite me to that parties,” the nurse jokes back. “Seriously though, thank you. I appreciate it.”            

“I’d like to draw something for Ciri, too. But I’m saving it for later when I can meet her. You didn’t tell her that I’m here, right?”

“She doesn’t know.”

“Good! Keep it that way.”

***

Smiling at the memory, Geralt rises from his bed to take the drawing from his bedside drawer. No, of course he doesn’t look at it every day, what are you talking about?

If he hadn’t promised Jaskier that he wouldn’t let Ciri know until these two can meet in person, this drawing would be on his wall already.

Maybe next to Ciri’s painting of a white wolf.

He had considered doing so but then decided that it would be wise if he didn’t. No doubt Ciri would figure out it was Jaskier’s drawing as soon as she would see it. It was signed by him, after all. Not that Ciri couldn’t figure it out without the signature.

“What the hell, Geralt” The nurse snorts to himself and runs a hand over his face as he imagines his room filled with the drawings of his daughter, and Jaskier’s. “What are you gonna dream about next? Ciri being a flower girl at your wedding?”

Fuck.

He is totally dreaming about it now.

God, it’s crazy how much he misses him, even though he doesn’t really know him.

Ciri already is crazy about Jaskier, and Geralt looks forward to them to meet, to see how Ciri is going to react when she sees him. He feels like the two would talk non-stop, and he would just listen to them talking about God knows what.

He would have no problem with that; in fact.

“I’ll give him a call tomorrow,” he thinks.

He wants to see Jaskier again.

(Thanks for reading! Sorry for the lack of Jaskier in this chapter, but it was like:

-So, it’s time for you to meet Ciri! 

-Hah, well, I love her, but I don’t think so. Not yet. 

-But Ciri- 

-You can have me as a Flashback Guest in this chapter, nothing more. 

-But my plan wasn’t like this. 

-Too bad, I’m my own character.

Let me know what you think please. Have a good day everyone ~ 💛)

[catharrington]

I may have scrolled down and see that promp list and... you know 😍. So can I ask for bodyswap & kegboys?

I have never never written body swap au before so bare with me!!!

@livedsomanylives thanks so much for the ask!! and here is a link for the list my ask is always open for more!

***

Steve woke up but it didn’t necessarily feel like he woke up, he was sure he was still dreaming. Laying down on his stomach, head slightly turned to the side, he saw a gaudy poster of a three headed Cerbus looking thing growling back at him. Steve blinked. Mostly sure he didn’t hang a poster on the back of his door while he was sleeping.

Then the door shook, rocked on its hinges, with a mean knocking noise. “Get the Hell up! You are not going to make Max late again because you were curing your hair!” And then more words were said but rushed and under the mans breath. Steve didn’t recognize the voice, but he sure was starting to get a grasp on the location.

He wasn’t sure how it happened but he must have slept over with Billy, maybe sleep-walked and climbed through his window sure, sure. Steve lifted himself and spun around to find the bed empty. He sat up and looked around and found the whole room empty. Except for him.

Steve hesitantly, reminding himself to take steady breaths, started towards the closet and small mirror set up there. He looked at his reflection, and Billy looked back.

Omg, he thought. It’s like a shitty sci-fi tv show. Steve felt Billy’s cheek and the beard trying to grow there, then across Billy’s head of tight curls, then he cupped one of Billy’s meticulously crafted abs. Then Steve stopped himself.

Don’t be a pervert, he sighed almost out loud.

“Hey, jerk, are you awake?” That was Max’s voice and Steve barely had anytime to consider how fresh weird this was before she busted the door open.

Steve blinked back at her, standing in only flannel pajama bottoms in front of the mirror, and she glared back at him, arms crossed and ready for school. School, Steve almost choked on the idea.

“Earth to Billy?” she shook her red hair.

“Get out!” Steve gasped, finally able to use words in this foreign throat, he turned to her and fluttered his hands in a wild motion, “get out, get out!”

She closed the door to his sputtereing, thankfully leaving Steve alone in his spazzing.

Just a minute later he comes out, now wearing a long sleeve shirt and maybe clean jeans he found on the floor while tugging on a denim jacket. Steve knew he looked crazy but he dressed with his eyes closed.

“About time,” the same man, Billy’s father, growled out. Steve kept as far from him and the breakfast table as possible. He shimmied across the kitchen counters making a bee line for the door.

“Max, let’s get going... to school.” Steve almost couldn’t finish his sentence listening to another voice come out of his mouth.

Thankfully, Max jumped up and lead the way to the Camaro.

This, I think I can handle, he slid into the driver side of the Camaro and whistled. Running his hands up the steering wheel, before twisting the key and listening to her roar to life. Steve wasn’t noticing; well he was ignoring, the way Max was judging him from the corner of her eyes.

Steve’s plan was simple; just drop Max off and find Billy. Well, find his own body. When he pulled into the high school parking lot he thanked the gods for not making him work too hard.

There Billy was, or rather Steve was, leaned on the side of his burgundy BMW, wearing the same faded tshirt he wore to sleep with a pair of jeans slapped on, and nawing the end of a cigarette like it owed him money. Oh, ding ding.

Steve pulled up right next to him, already ruined with the idea of Steve Harrington out for everyone to see smoking in the parking lot. Trying not to remember the way he went to bed in that shirt, and only that shirt on.

“Hey, man,” Steve started as he climbed out of the Camaro, but that’s as far as he got before another’s voice interjected.

“Oh my god,” Steve turned to look and Billy stopped short his rage march over to look too. And there was Tommy, freckles the same as the night before; newly painted pink with a blush.

Billy caught his eyes with a worrisome flick, reading the same Steve felt, he knows and he knows something about it.

“Oh my god,” Tommy repeated. This time higher pitched as Billy shoved him hard into the steel blue metal of the Camaro.

“Spill it, Hagan. Obviously some really twisted shit is going down and I don’t like it.” Billy drawled the words low but loud into Tommy’s face. Steve was a little weirded out by watching his own body shove around his best friend, got even more weirded out when he noticed Tommy’s pink blush double.

“Spill what ever the fuck you know. You hear me, freckles!” Billy yelled in Steve’s voice.

“Yeah yeah, I just don’t know how to reply!” He tried in vain to shove Billy off, but the feral fighting spirit of Billy coupled with the inches Steve has on Tommy meant he didn’t budge. “Okay!” Tommy threw his hands up, looking between them two.

“Alight, I’ll tell you.” Tommy surrendered. Steve let his eye contact drop and didn’t really mean to focus on the way Tommy was straining hard againt the front of his jeans. Oh, that’s interesting.

Billy kept him pinned; let up just a little but didn’t move away. Billy didn’t style or even brush Steve’s hair this morning. Steve at least tried to finger comb Billy’s mane into something presentable, but Billy didn’t even try. So Steve’s hair was wild in all directions and unhinged. He looked angry, or fucked out... one of the two.

That idea sent a shiver down Steve’s spine.

“I did this. Last night.” Tommy started quietly, word by word. “I found a book in my basement, in my grandmas old stuff. And it was like... it promised to make...,” he trailed off.

Billy wasn’t satisfied. He shoved his arm, Steve’s body’s bony elbow, right up to Tommy’s throat. “You used a book? Are you some sort of black magic devil fucker? Some creepy Evil Dead shit?”

“What?!” Tommy squeaked.

Steve finally decided to step in. He pushed against his own body to relax a little, pulling his taught arms away, having Billy’s muscles helped with that. Billy sneered like a pissed lizard but he backed off Tommy.

“Just let him finish.” Steve said softly, and the weirdness of Billy’s voice being that soft coming out of his mouth was not ignored by anyone. Especially Billy himself who blushed a little, squirming in the hold Steve kept on one arm.

Tommy rubbed his throat, didn’t make eye contact again, but continued. “It was supposed to make you guys... get over yourselves.” Billy’s little excuse me?! From the side was kept in check by Steve’s hold on his arm. He leveled him with a sharp glare before turning back to Tommy.

“What does that mean?” He asked, super confused.

Tommy rolled his eyes. He shuffled, bit his lip, eyed up Steve’s body coiled tight ready to attack him again, before he continued. “You guys like each other. It’s so annoyingly obvious, like the worst kind of obvious. I just wanted to... help?”

Steve let his grip lax on Billy, and Billy stopped trying to claw his way out. They kept touching the other. Then slowly turned and saw matching wide eyed stares. This is not exactly how Steve wanted to confess, like telling your crush while he’s snarling pissed off and trapped inside of your own body you like him isn’t exactly romantic, holy shit. But he gave a weak smile anyways.

“It wasn’t that obvious, don’t be dramatic,” Steve was clutching onto the one shred of standards he could keep.

Billy sputtered a little, his tongue swiped out to lick his lips, but he gave a weak cocked smile. And shrugged. “I mean,” he was holding his smile; then he blinked a few times and the anger was back, “hold on, you fucking cursed us?”

Tommy backed himself into the side of the Camaro this time to get away from the anger in Billy’s voice. “It’s temporary! Totally, totally temporary! But- I can reverse it. I think? With my grandmas book.” Tommy was talking to his own shoes, nervous and blushing, and Steve noticed still quivering in the front of his jeans. Those jeans must be uncomfortable.

“Then let’s go,” Steve offered. He pulled against Billy’s arm towards the Camaro. Sliding the cold keys into his hand. Then flicked his eyes up to Tommy’s.

Billy was hesitant but he took the cue. Only stopping to fake lunge at Tommy once before he got in the drivers seat. Steve walked after him, he stopped to drag a hand over Tommy’s shoulder in a comforting way. Before he grabbed him by the scruff of his jacket and walked him to the passengers side.

“Let’s get this all sorted out in your basement, right? Then maybe if you don’t mess anything else up I’ll show you how thankful I am for all this soul revealing revelations shit.” Steve muttered.

Tommy couldn’t hide the smile on his face as he was shoved into the back seat and they speed off away from the high school.

[kinetic-elaboration]

December 2: 1x26 Errand of Mercy

Errand of Mercy is truly a trip. I’m swiftly losing my ability to be coherent because I need to go to sleep but here are some attempts:

First of all this is, of course, a straight-up, pure, unfiltered Kirk/Spock episode with a tiny bit of unrequited Kor/Kirk on the side. Like, we’re not even going to pretend to find stuff for the rest of the crew today. I see you, Gene Coon.

This is the first Klingon ep. I just... the actual Klingon-centric episodes ARE good, but the Klingons in general are pretty boring and I legit don’t understand why they became the standard Star Trek villain. (DC Fontana apparently thought that it was because their make up was simpler v. the Romulans, acc. to Amazon trivia and....I’ll buy that.)

Is the “cultural scale” called the Richter cultural scale? I seem to recall another scale with the exact same name....

I get why there would be such a scale but they are dead wrong about where the Organians fall on it.

Anyway not to harp on this yet again but @ fanom this isn’t the military right?? Lol

Oh, no, it’s Code One! No idea what that means but the music tells me it’s a big deal and it’s bad!

“Curious how often you humans manage to obtain that which you do not want.” He’s talking about war but I can think of some other things that fall into this category.

I think it’s pretty funny that Kirk records his Captain’s logs in public.

CAPTAIN SULU.

“There’s a war happening, so Mr. Spock and I will just leave the ship... together.”

“You’ll get out of here, Sulu, and leave Spock and I... alone.”

“You’ll fall back to rendezvous with the rest of the Fleet in the Laurentian system.”

Why do these people show no interest in us beaming down into their village? Hmmm, I wonder. If the Organians really were what K and S think they are, beaming down in that way would be uh a bad idea.

Spock seems much less awkward at gesturing than Kirk does.

Finally, by the end of the season, they’ve figured out the context for the Enterprise: Starfleet, the Federation, etc.

I wish the Organians were our alien overlords and taylor.

So the Klingons are a military dictatorship.

Kirk finds them so frustrating. I feel like this ep falls into the genre “Kirk is frustrated by hippies.” All this generic peace talk and faultlessly chill attitudes are just not him.

“I’m a soldier, not a diplomat.” That’s why Spock likes him so much.

The Organians are trying to follow the Prime Directive but Kirk is making it SO HARD.

“Space vehicles.”

I know the Klingons are actually supposed to be in yellow face but you know what it looks like black face to me and I RE-ALLY wish they had not done that.

They look good in those Organian outfits. Love that they kept their command and science colors lol. I feel like this is the sort of outfit AOS Kirk wishes he had in that boring ass closet of his.

Mr. Spock does not look like an Organian.

I MUST know more about these “not uncommon” Vulcan merchants. “Dealing in kevas and trillium.”

KOR IS SO INTO KIRK. This flirting is the least subtle. “You’ll be taught to use your tongue.” “Where is your smile?” “You’re a ram among sheep.” “I need your obedience.” “You seem to be in command.” Is all of this supposed to sound sexual or...?

Right up there with “a stallion must first be broken.”

Whereas Kirk is so not into this. That expression says, “Don’t even think about talking about Spock’s tongue.”

The mind sifter is actually a crazy advanced sci fi machine and STID wanted us to think Klingons don’t have warp usdfsf go fuck yourself.

Kirk is so turned on by Spock’s mental strength.

Every spare moment of this ep is given over to K/S flirting. They legit act like an old married couple. “I thought you were going to fight that guy.” “I just might.” Or whatever.

I love that Kirk’s method of fighting is to literally launch his WHOLE BODY at enemies.

Whereas Spock’s there just running awkwardly in the background. He is Not coordinated friends.

Kirk’s speeches ARE admirable. He is lacking context here but in general if they WERE an oppressed people, this should be inspiring.

“For some reason, he feels as though he must destroy you.”

This Kor and Kirk scene... Kirk literally canNOT stop himself from flirting. His default smile is Charming. “Nothing...inconsequential [was destroyed] I hope...” Flirty smile, wink.

GO CLIMB A TREE I MEAN WHAT THE HECK WAS THAT.

We are the same species...tigers...hunters

Is this not the same cell they always use?

I feel an “and there was only one cell” fic coming on...

The Organians are actually kind of hilarious. They’ll basically let these rando aliens do whatever they want, as long as they do no violence. That’s it, that’s the one rule.”Your captors planned to do violence to you, and to that I said...naw.”

THIS is real Pacifism @ Commander Spock.

Kirk ready to go out in a blaze of fire for a bunch of annoying hippies like “I’m going to white savior you now, ungrateful Organians.”(I say this with love; I love him.)

Can you believe Kirk and Spock are about to die in an unwinnable fight of 2 against Lots of Klingons, and they’re using their last moments to FLIRT AGAIN?

Gene Coon loves writing dialogue in which Spock calculates statistics and Kirk is turned on.

Also can you BELIEVE he just pulls Spock along by the arm? Any excuse to touch him.

Okay the Organians are officially tired of your bullshit.

Too hot! Hot damn!

“We find interference in others’ affairs most disgusting.” Prime Directive! Like I said!

This is basically the plot of A Taste of Armageddon except in that ep Kirk was the Organians.

“People have the right to handle their own affairs.” Is he wrong though??

The Organians are like “okay, we all had our fun here, now get out. Seriously.”

Can you imagine how fucking weird it would be to just randomly see this alien dude materialize in the White House, or, like, Starfleet San Francisco HQ, or wherever the “home world” of the Federation is supposed to be? Just a little throwaway line in there.

By the end Kor is just straight up hilarious. He’s giving off real Ian McKellan in Vicious vibes when he says “I can handle them.”

“I guess that takes care of the war.” Yep! Very efficient!

The “it” in “It would have been glorious” is DEFINITELY not the war lol.

Good game, good game.

“I was furious with the Organians for stopping a war I didn’t want.” I’m sorry but could not THAT have been the plot of STID?

“Spock, your math was wrong the whole time.” And now Spock and Kirk can BOTH sulk lol.

Those were all of my liveblog thoughts and it’s late but.... I had so many additional thoughts on this episode... Like a lot more.

First, I love when humanoids turn out to not be humanoids, that’s one of the best things.

Second, I think this is a very gutsy episode to air at the time, and that it would still be a gutsy episode to air now. I feel like it’s one of the peanut gallery’s favorite criticisms of ST nowadays to say it’s “colonialist” but this ep makes it pretty clear it’s not--that’s the opposite of the lesson of this story.

To attempt to explain better: I completely and unironically love Kirk but I do recognize that like all 3 dimensional characters he has flaws. In this ep, I thought that while his speeches and general point of view and strategic plan were definitely right for situations a population is oppressed--that people do have the power to fight back against dictatorships, even when the odds are bad, and that it is worth it to have the courage to fight back against such oppression--he was ultimately shown to be wrong in this instance because he wasn’t actually coming into that situation. He didn’t understand as much as he thought he did. He thought he was going to be the savior here: taking control for peoples who didn't know better, saving them from oppression, and then gifting them with technology and advancement as he understood it. The Federation wouldn't have enslaved them, but the Federation did want to use them. But the Organians really truly didn't need help--the native people understood their own needs better than the outside people. That's the lesson I took from the episode. Your intentions can be good but if you're coming into a foreign situation looking to control it, without understanding the actual people involved, you’re not being a true friend or ally, and you're likely to do no more harm than good. Opposition to tyranny has to come from the source, the oppressed peoples themselves.

When he refers to “weak, innocent people” standing in the way of superpowers in the beginning--he’s not attempting to derogatory, but that is a pretty demeaning characterization.

I also thought it interesting that the Organians can take any form they want and put their society at any stage of "advancement" they want and they chose a basic agrarian aesthetic. Cottagecore rights.

Kirk really had a confirmation bias when it came to the Organians. He had an image of them--innocent, weak, oppressed--and he only took information that fit with that characterization, rather than listening to them and what they were saying.

My mom and I also discussed whether this was IC or OOC of Kirk. I’m of two minds, myself. I think Kirk at his best is much more open-minded than this. His core morality is good faith, peace, friendliness, and care for all life forms, and there are plenty of examples of this (Charlie X, Mud’s Women, and The Corbomite Maneuver all immediately come to mind.) But he does have a blind spot that I think comes up often enough to be canonically part of his character: if something is threatening or killing his crew, or his people more broadly (the Federation), then ALL he cares about is neutralizing the threat. Rare alien? Possible scientific discovery? Might not have the full details of the situation? Doesn’t matter. I’m thinking The Man Trap, The Devil in the Dark, Arena. He wants to protect aliens, but not if the alien is killing his crew. He wants to make overtures of friendship, but not if the new being has already been aggressive.

I mean like I said... a part of me is like "no he is better than this!" but another part is like... well he does have that 'soldier' side of him, he is intensely loyal to his people. The “evil” Kirk of The Enemy Within. I think he just sometimes gets these blinders in certain situations when he's just sure he's right, which is very human.

Also although he's between McCoy and Spock on the continuum of "an objective right thing exists for all people and in all situations and we should always follow that morality" and "morality itself is relative, we should be respectful of alien ways of living even when we don’t understand them" I think in general Kirk and the show is more like McCoy. There IS a right morality here. (I’m thinking of The Apple or even A Taste of Armageddon.)

I also maintain that to say in 1967 "the very personality trait of being warlike is a common denominator between enemies at war" is a dramatic statement.

My mother suggested that Kirk was “strangely appealing” in his desire to save the Organians, with or without their help, and I do agree... I think that’s the complexity of the episode. The overall thrust of the plot is that Kirk was wrong--he’s left embarrassed at the end. I stand by what I said above. And they certainly go out of their way to show that the Klingons and Federation have something in common--namely, as I said, their very capacity to wage war, and interest in waging war.

BUT, as much as I get the point that they have certain similarities with the Federation--and I think this concept of 'these war-worthy disagreements seem trivial to an advanced and neutral species' is interesting, and even more so in comparison with A Taste of Armageddon which, as I said, is this same scenario from the Organians' POV essentially--at the same time it's a bit irritating to hear the democratic Federation compared to the oppressive dictatorship of the Klingons. Like yeah, okay, none of them are light beings and they both wanted to destroy each other--point taken. But would the Federation park itself on a random planet and kill 200 people the first day? I think not. So in this sense Kirk IS right. The Klingons are an adversary worth fighting, just not over the Organians.

I don’t know what I would think of his position if the Organians were being harmed but were also just...actually sheep. Like I guess I would say "well they have to have a reason.” And in fact they did--their bodies cannot be harmed, so they really don't care if the Klingons pretend to harm them. But I just can't comprehend people being like really honestly okay with that level of oppression, as opposed to too scared or too beaten down or too brainwashed to fight it, which is different.

...And from there we went into a discussion of curative v transformative fandom and yet more on what’s wrong with AOS sdfasfjsaldf it’s past 1 am I can’t be stopped BUT I SHOULD BE STOPPED.

[ofgeneticperfection]

Scarlet’s chain of sweetness

Courtesy of  @madamdirectcr

5 THINGS YOU LOVE ABOUT YOUR CHARACTER.

1. Indomitable - She pretty much does what she wants, how she wants, whenever she wants. If she wants something? She manipulates her way into getting it. She doesn’t stop until she has it and hardly anything will sway her otherwise. She’s extremely hard to control when determined and set on a task in mind. She’s hard to control period. She’s got a streak of wild, impulsive, and loves to toy with others be it malicious or just to tease.  Her will is near impossible to break and she never believes that she can’t do something even if it is the impossible. Atop of that she’s fairly hard to defeat physically, she’ll bring more than a challenge if ever attack or if a loved one is ever hurt. I’m not saying that she can’t be brought down because she can, but it’s going to take more than a couple of hits.

2. Emotional Depth-  There’s not just one tier to Isrieal, there’s a million and it’s a labyrinth. She comes off as cold, arrogant, prideful but that’s the main wall that she hides behind. She’s strong and will exude complete confidence most of the time while being sly, cunning, coy, and whatever else she can throw at you. These are the emotions she shows to the world but the rest she’s buried so deep inside that she forgets they even exist. Inside she’s broken, sad, lonely, tormented but she has her ways of hiding them and biting back the pain that feeling these emotions brings. It’s from the conditions she’s been stuck in for her whole life at Hojo’s mercy and the lies she’s had to tell herself to make it easier to handle. Of course, this naturally makes her volatile with bursts of anger or other strong emotions and if she let’s one slip out they all come spilling out sooner or later. She does have a tendency to use special sedative injections to subdue these emotions whenever she feels any starting to well up. Deep under it all, however, she loves with all of her heart once she is sure that she will not be hurt. She’s always afraid of that in a way, but there is no in between. You have her all or you have her nothing. But once there she is quite passionate and protective and more soft and innocent then she’d originally lead you to think. 

3. Manipulative - Life is a game and she plays to win. At least that’s how one survives in ShinRa. She learned from one of the best manipulators out there and now she’s known to even manipulate the Professor himself. She rose herself from experiment to assistant Director by playing him and she plays everyone around as she sees necessary in order to get what she needs. She often shows what she wants to show and nothing more, near every move and every article of clothing is precisely calculated towards whomever she is meeting with. Of course, only if you don’t know her well. 

4. Deals with the Devil- Oh yes, she loves to make deals but don’t worry they’re mostly fair and she is one to keep to her word and her promises. Despite her demeanor she is quite loyal when she promises something. If you work out a trade or a bargain she’ll do her best to uphold her end of it, getting you what you want in return. There is a lot that can be traded between science and other departments after all and she’s not afraid to go behind the Professor’s back here and there if it means obtaining something she’s personally after in the end. 

5. A.I Alien - Lastly, yes I love the fact she is a hybrid and loves to play with quantum theory and A.I in the future. I always love the sci-fi aesthetics and concepts and the idea of something beautiful having a monster inside. She’s at conflict with this part of herself, often not knowing how to fully accept it but at least she is in control of the cells and not the other way around. She’s also always been focused on uploading consciousness and prolonging and bringing others back to life since she doesn’t age. It’s from there that she gets pulled into quantum theories and eventually breaks through to a system A.I that she makes a deal with to her own advantage, but this is a plot I haven’t touched in a while. Really I love everything about her but these are some fun and dominating concepts. 

5 PEOPLE ON HERE YOU LOVE, AND WHY.

1. @animus-inspire Where do I start? Seriously. This was unexpected but yet one of the best things that has ever happened in my writing history. I love love love this ship and all the AU’s of it so much! And beyond that, it’s so rare to get me to talk a lot but I can’t seem to ever shut up around you xD. But, I LOVE talking to you and the connection we have and the fact that we have so many stinking ideas all the damn time and they all get played off each other so easily and that we can share the same obsessions and YES WHAT HAVE YOU DONE! But you are also one of the sweetest and most full of life people I know on here and I absolutely love writing with you, you’ve made it so great :3. And you are seriously best Reeve and have made me love all the Reeve. <3

2. @thefirstthaumaturge I’ve known you for about like, well.....well over 10 years xD And I love you more as the years go on. We’ve survived drama days together and now we can laugh about all the stupid RP stuff we did in the past. I also enjoy all of our new RPs and how great its been to see both our OCs grow and thrive in these communities. I also super love talking to you and playing video games with you and watching WestWorld and movies with you. Basically, you make everything super fun and I don’t know what I’d do without you around. I also love how we always manage to say/type the same things at the same time all the damn time xD Digital sisters but its as real as it gets. 

3. @shinraweirdscience @xbroken-science @insidious-scientist  I love all of my Hojo’s that deal with Izzy’s crazy ass and put up with me so thank you guys! I’m always down for crazy plots and all the trauma that comes with them so don’t ever feel bad about throwing anything at me or damaging Izzy. It’s what makes her her after all. And I find it all a lot of fun. I’m always ears for ideas so let me know!

4. @sadistic-second I don’t write a whole lot with you here but you’re always good company in the voice chats and you make playing games a lot of fun as well. I like our little group we have going on to do all the stuffs. I love all the gifs and icons you make, and the paracord is very creative as well. It’s always cool to see what you can do. Of course I like all the funny things too.   @apathetic-ruler  I have to say you’re writing is amazing, I love it! I haven’t wrote with your Ru but I love past life Ru xD One of these day’s I’ll figure out what to do with a Rufus I’m sure. 

5. @ivory-paragon We don’t write much but I love playing FFXIV with you and being in all your groups. It’s a very fun and enjoyable atmosphere and you make me laugh all the time. If I hadn’t found you I wouldn’t have found any of this awesome community and my great shippy ships that have come out of it. @rikelusshinra I love all of our RP’s and stuff too. You have a super amazing OC that seems to fit right in and I’ve loved writing with Rike. Even if you are busy now. It’s rare Izzy finds ships that work but you are one of those lucky ones that she fits well with and I love all the ideas we play with as well. So to my FFU peeps! Even if we don’t write on tumblr much I still love you both. 

Honorable mentions:

@cinderella-gurei God, you are the best Chadley and you break my damn heart all the time in our RPs. Izzy will never forgive herself completely but she’s glad to have you around and so am I! She will protecc forever. <3 

@madamdirectcr I love your Scarlet! I want to see what happes :3  @makeupandmateria Another lovely Scarlet I had to mention as well!

5  SONGS EITHER YOU OR YOUR MUSE REGARD AS A ‘GUILTY PLEASURE’ THAT ALWAYS MAKES YOU SMILE.

So okay, I’ve thought about this all day and I’ll do a few categories. Since I revolve around music so heavily and no lie have hundreds of my own music videos in my head for every song I’ve ever heard, yes I’m one of THOSE people. xD

So I’ll start with what I’ve been listening to lately that really fits in with WestWorld Izzy and Logan!Reeve ShinuestiLos xD I can’t seem to get Poker Face out of my head for her and a couple other Lady Gaga songs that fit in  Like this one too. 

Also I really love these songs but they are so random. This one mostly thanks to ARI, but I can never not listen to it when it comes on. Also Mortal Kombat. This song makes me so fired up every time I hear any variation of it xD. Even now! alkdjfsldjfsdljf, but I do really like this mix. 

Then we can’t forget those emo day songs. Mr. Brightside is one I can never resist singing. It’s just so damn good! Then there is Holiday by Greenday and can’t forget Miss Murder by AFI xD 

Now I have an extremely long list of electronic type, synth, darkwave, trance, whatever the heck categories they fall under that I just like to call my Robot music xD  Here’s a couple with AI themes that I’ll just throw out here. We Appreciate Power and quite literally A.I 

And lastly this one reminds me of Midgar so much and Izzy, but I always see her singing this if she ever made a music video. (which apparently she’s made many) But she’d definitely be in front of wall sized windows with Midgar in the background and the labs, and its also why she sometimes refers to it as Electric City, idk who the guy would be singing with her but if you want it to be you just let me know? Lol.  After all she is Indistinct. Ill Defined. Uncontrolled. Unconfined. 

Tagged by: @animus-inspire (this took me forever Reeeeeve x.x) 

Tagging: @thefirstthaumaturge

[afuckingpeasant]

From Mormon to Atheist

Whenever someone says that people don’t change I wonder what stubborn assholes you had the misfortune to meet because I’ve changed so spectacularly from who I used to be that when I begin to tell people my story they look at me in shock. 

I grew up in a household where Fox News was on all the time, Glen Beck had an opinion that mattered, and church and religion were considered the “cornerstone” of my life. I was your average goody-two-shoes Mormon, friendly, smiling brightly to hide how guilt ridden I was. My parents had converted to the faith from Catholicism, and were always asked, everywhere we visited, to tell the story again. For me, it meant a level of pride-- Mormons grow up listening to stories about Joseph Smith trying to find which church was true until a divine vision tells him they’re all wrong and to make his own. The pursuit of truth and being “in the right” was important to our family and, in very real sense, it was this desire that drove me away from Mormonism and religion in general in the end.

We weren’t great Mormons to begin with. Behind closed doors, we enjoyed thriller and sci-fi R rated films, I liked to swear (though I avoided saying fuck & God for years) and we did our best to remain open minded. We loved the Colbert Report and Jon Stewart. I invited my friends to church with me like any mormon kid does, sure, but I had no desire to force them to change or to only be friends with mormon kids, and more often than not I was more comfortable with my nonreligious friends because they didn’t silently judge me. But I tried, ya know? I would read my scriptures and pray and try to do all the things and then wonder why I was so fucking depressed and guilt ridden. I hid my doubts for a long time. I hoped going off to BYU would get rid of them. 

I BYU-Idaho for a single semester. Chemistry major, if you can believe that. I lived in the shadow of the Temple and felt guilty that I never wanted to go inside. Professors led opening and closing prayer in class. I went on dates with boys who were getting ready to leave on their missions and with men who had come back and were antsy to get married. Neither appealed to me. And then, near the end of the semester I had a nervous breakdown. 

I didn’t want to go home for the holidays. I worried that I would lose whatever spiritual progress I had made. My family wasn’t as religious as I was anymore. I was horrified with myself, I mean I didn’t want to see my family? That may not mean much to you, but I have always had a very close relationship with my family. We’ve been through a lot. And Mormons champion this message of “Families can be together forever” and I was suddenly struck by the blatant hypocrisy. If you’ve never been to a Fast & Testimony meeting, it’s basically this open confessional where you can go up to the podium and proclaim how YOU KNOW THIS CHURCH is true. A lot of folks tell tearful stories of family members cutting them off or even cutting their own family members off because they didn’t “understand” or because they were proud to make the church the center of their lives. 

By the time this happened, my brothers were already on the way out. One of them had been rebelling for years, and the other was simply trying not to rock the boat but even I was growing exhausted by the constant arguments. Since I was the oldest, I felt I wasn’t allowed to be vocal about my own doubts because I was supposed to be the “good example” and i internalized it instead. And when I came back from school, somehow, I had become the spiritual leader of the family.

My dad came to me and tell me about he regretted not having a last drink with his dad before he died of cancer, and how he had missed that opportunity to bond because of his religious beliefs. My mom came to me with her own concerns about women and priesthood. And because my brother argued the church wasn’t true, they looked into church history (you’re not supposed to read church history from non-church sources because the DEVIL would do anything to draw you away, which in of itself is such a red fucking flag) and after a lot of thought and consideration, they had begun to doubt and wanted to stop attending church for a bit.

And then, just after the new year, we sat down for a Family Home Evening. Mormons do it every Monday night, but this one was different. This time we didn’t have someone lead a lesson or read from the scriptures. Instead we talked about how we felt about the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints and by the end, it was official.

We weren’t Mormon anymore. 

After that I tried to figure out what I believed. I started studying religion from an academic standpoint, looking into the history, the mythology. I was curious about Ancient Sumerian myths and the origins of the bible. I switched to a community college, and when I asked myself what I believed I realized that I only ever wanted to believe things that were true and proven to be true. My faith had been taken advantage of. And If God did exist, he was such a raging asshole that I saw no point in worshiping him on a “maybe” 

So, I’m now I’m an atheist who celebrates pagan holidays because I enjoy the ritual and find comfort in nature and the passing of the seasons. I haven’t watched Fox News in years. Politically, I’d describe myself as a humanist and very anti-capitalist. I support Andrew Yang. 

And I’m capable of change.

[theraddestcowboy]

OC Meme Compilation (part 1) (part 2)

Here’s part 2 of this whole thing, for Nikolai this time

I love this trash man and i want to give him more attention because he’s always been one of my favorite OC’s

COMPANION MEME

Name: Nikolai Tartakovsky

I think we should travel together: “Thought you'd never ask."

Use Melee: "This ought to be fun."

Use Ranged: “Oh good, I love showing off!”

Open Inventory: “Sure, just don't be surprised if they get lost. I don't exactly have a filing system."

Stay Close: (teasing) “Don't worry, I'll keep you safe."

Keep Distance: “I'm not exactly a sniper, but alright.”

Stealth: "I'll uh....I'll do my best."

Back Up: “Ouch, that's my foot!”

Be Passive: “If you say so.”

Be Aggressive: (confidently) “Can do."

Use Stimpack: “I need to get some more of those things.”

Wait Here: “Just don't leave me out of anything fun.”

Follow Me: “Ready to head out? I just got comfortable.”

Send him to the Lucky 38: “I'm not a fan of that place, but I guess I'll find something to do there.”

Send him Home: “If you need me, come find me anytime.” (can be found in whatever workshop in freeside Kerrian would be in)

Aggression: aggressive/not aggressive/very aggressive/frenzied

Confidence: cowardly/cautious/average/brave/foolhardy

Assistance: helps nobody/helps allies/helps friends and allies

Companion perk: The Devil Down Below (bonus damage against lakelurks)

Weapons: Gnife (pipe revolver with a bunch of bonuses to shooting from the hip and a knife stuck on it)

Karma: Good

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

» AGE:  Older than he should be (technically like 200 something)

» SPECIES: Human » GENDER: Male » SEX: Male » ORIENTATION: Bisexual » TITLE: the Silver Shroud

PHYSICAL ASPECTS » HAIR: Very very very dark brown » EYES: Blue

» SKIN: A bit tan » HEIGHT: 6'6" » WEIGHT: uhhhhhh idk

FAMILY » SIBLINGS: Fievel- younger half brother » PARENTS: Dmitri and i dont know if we ever named his mother

» GRANDPARENTS: God we wrote this down somewhere, the only one of his family members names i remember right now though is his uncle Vladimir » OTHER RELATIVES: Abagail- his wife, Kerrian- his son, Fenna- Not actually his daughter but he basically raised her so he's her dad now » ANY PETS?: Dogmeat Dogmeat Dogmeat (best boy) he also likes cats a lot SKILLS » PHYSICAL BUILD: listen im a thirsty bitch and cannot think of a way to describe his build that doesnt sound like im writing a bad romance novel » ABILITIES: Can Breathe Underwater (thanks todd), ages very slowly, can kick ass with the shittiest weapons possible, and does that all the time, my roommate keeps yelling at me for not using anything other than a pipe pistol like more than halfway through the game. Also will make friends with the edgiest loners he can find, and forcibly adopts any child who looks like they need a parent in a 50 mile radius

» SPECIAL : S7, P5, E6, C7, I5, A5, L10

» HOBBIES: Loves old naval shit, telling and hearing stories, music, and fixing up old junk

TRAITS

—— POSITIVE —— Aggressively friendly, like you cannot stop him from befriending you Good dad Compassionate Tactical Good at improvising Learns quickly

——- NEGATIVE ——-

Shortsighted A little too optimistic Terrible attention span Either forgets people too easily or refuses to let shit go Stubborn about weirdly specific shit

LIKES

» COLORS: Red and gold » SMELLS:  Soap, flowers, clean bedding, oil and turpentine and stuff like that, sea air » FOOD: Soups and stews, anything his wife makes, any kind of pie » DRINKS: Nuka-cola cherry, tea » ALCOHOLIC BEVERAGES?: dark beer, bourbon, gin

This is the one worthlesssix tagged me in and i dont know what to title it

NICKNAME: Niko (the only person who really calls him that is his brother though)

personal

MORALITY: Chaotic Good

RELIGION: Jewish, but not really religious

SINS: greed/gluttony/sloth/lust/pride/envy/wrath

VIRTUES: chastity/charity/diligence/humility/kindness/patience/justice

KNOWN LANGUAGES: English, Ukrainian, Russian, very bad at Hebrew, knows the word for “idiot” in a lot of languages

physical

BUILD: scrawny/bony/slender/fit/athletic/curvy/herculean/pudgy/plus size/average

HEIGHT: 6'6"

SCARS/BIRTHMARKS: Missing 2/3rd's of one of his fingers, a scar on his left eyebrow and later on one where his knee got messed up

favourites

PIZZA TOPPING: Tomatoes, spinach, anchovies, meatballs actually you know what he just likes 99% of pizza tbh i havent thought about it till just now but i feel like he would

MUSIC GENRE: Old old old swing, especially obscure stuff, 60's and 70's pop and motown, Dad Rock

MOVIE GENRE: Sci-fi, westerns, action movies

CURSE WORD: He's a sailor

fun stuff

BOTTOM OR TOP: Top

SINGS IN THE SHOWER: Absolutely

LIKES PUNS: Loves them but gets angry when people say them anyway

[theblueskyphoenix]

Grid Ghost Chapter 4: Treatments

“And you’re positive Sycorax will be able to succeed in this treatment plan for his tumor?” Kim asked, her arms crossed, leaning against a table.

“Of course.” Liv smiled, her arms folded behind her back. “We have all the medical tools and advances needed. However, it is still an experimental treatment so your husband will be very much a trial run. But we promise, we will treat him well. You’ve been looking for answers and you’re willing to do whatever it takes, right?”

Kim glanced to the side. 

“I… I suppose… You promise he will be safe?”

Liv nodded.

“I do. He’ll be treated very well under our care. You want him to live a good long healthy life right?”

“Yes…”

“Then please, let us take him into our hands and give him that life he deserves.”

Yeah… Sure. More like “Give him to us so we can have a lab rat because of how special his condition is but oh no don’t worry he’ll be treated like a king.” Please…

Trina never could forget the day her father was taken from her. Her mother never knew that she had eavesdropped on her conversation with Liv. She usually respected her mother’s privacy with clients but… this one was an exception.

Liv just didn’t feel right to her. The look in her eyes, the way she carried herself, how she spoke to others, it all felt so fake to her. If Trina didn’t know better she would think the woman was some kind of alien trying to pose as a human with how she acted.

And that’s where I have to stop watching too many sci-fi movies before bed.

Trina shook her mind of it, focusing on the moment at hand. 

Now was not the time to be bitter. It was a time to be happy.

Trina stood outside the door of a patient room, a basket that contained an assortment of goodies held tightly to her chest, Takashi standing next to her. 

“Do you think we should come back later?” she asked. “I mean, maybe we should wait till all the surgery stuff is done.”

Takashi placed a hand on her shoulder, giving it a squeeze.

“You can give him something to look forward to after the surgery stuff is over. Besides, you’ve wanted to see him for over a year now. Do you want to wait longer?”

“No… just…” Trina lowered her head. “… Call me nuts I’m just… worried he wouldn’t want to see me right now. Liv always rubbed me the wrong way and I just worry what she did to his head. What if… he doesn’t remember me?”

Takashi’s look turned gentle, bringing her into a side hug.

“I doubt that’s the case. Who could forget someone as awesome as you?”

Trina giggled.

“Taka…”

“I mean it. But, it’s up to you if you want to see him now.”

Trina looked at the door again, pondering for a moment before giving a nod.

“Let’s say hi.”

They both moved forward, Takashi knocking on the door.

“Come in.” 

Trina’s heart skipped a beat at hearing her father’s voice. The most she had been able to hear of it in recent times was old videos her mother had recorded, be it him doing things on his own time or when he was spending time with her or listening to old voicemails on her phone. 

Trina took a deep breath before opening the door, entering the room, Takashi behind her. 

Her eyes were wide as she beheld Obake. While his hair was different in how it was styled and he was a little on the paler side, there was no questioning it was her father. Especially with the red streak in his hair that she knew all too well. 

Obake’s eyes were wide too as he stared back at Trina. It was the real Trina. The daughter he had raised for over ten years. The daughter he spoiled to the moon and back.

My Little Star…

“H… Hi…” Trina whispered, moving closer to the bed.

“Hello…” He said, sitting up a little. 

Trina swallowed hard, trying her best to keep it together.

“It’s…. It’s been awhile…” Trina fumbled with the basket in her hands, lowering her head a little. “You… remember me… right?”

Obake tipped her chin up, his eyes glassy with tears.

“How could I ever forget my Little Star?”

Trina smiled, biting her lip.

“Daddy…”

She set the basket down, bringing her arms as gently as she could around Obake, huddling close to him.

“Oh, Daddy! It’s really you!” She cried out, burying her face into his shoulder.

Obake hugged her as tightly as he could, running his hand through her hair. 

“Trina…”

She really is alive… My dear daughter…

He took in everything he could from this moment. Her warmth, the softness of her hair, the tenderness of her embrace… He had forgotten what this actually felt like. He had moments with the bot version of his daughter but… nothing could ever replace what he was feeling right now.

Obake rested his head against hers, sighing happily. 

“I’m home…”

Trina nodded, nuzzling him.

“You are… You really are.”

She pulled back away from him gently, cupping his face in her hands. 

“Sorry just… I’m just so happy to see you again.”

Obake smiled gently, placing his hands over hers.

“I think I can understand how you feel entirely.” He leaned forward, kissing her forehead. 

Trina giggled, keeping close.

“I never stopped looking for you. I promised that no matter what would happen, I would always keep looking for you.”

“Oh, Trina…”

Trina smiled.

“What would I be without my partner in crime?”

Obake chuckled, cupping one her cheeks in his hand.

“An amazing young lady. Least, I think so.”

Trina leaned into his hand.

“Dad…”

They embraced each other again for a moment before Trina pulled away, picking up the basket she had brought in.

“I know you can’t eat for a bit because surgery reasons but I got your favorites in here along with get better food for when you can. Packets of miso soup, bottled water, chocolate and, courtesy of Takashi over there, freshly baked mini blueberry scones.”

Obake looked over to Takashi, who was currently leaning against a wall in the room. He gave a small wave, along with a sheepish look.

“Trina said it would make a good first impression… Also, your wife and Shaylin said you deserved better than that scone you had stashed in your backpack.”

Obake rolled his eyes but couldn’t help but chuckle.

“I suppose they’re right… Well, thank you. I look forward to eating all of this once I’m in the clear from surgery.” Obake set the basket on the side table next to his bed before looking back to Takashi. “Though, I wouldn’t mind a proper introduction.”

Takashi gave a bow.

“Takashi Sky. I’m Shaylin’s eldest son. Trina and I have been buddies for about a year now.”

“Yep.” Trina smiled. “We bonded over martial arts. He’s my…” She giggled, putting her hands together. “Senpai~!”

Obake brought a hand over his mouth, trying not to laugh too hard.

Takashi chuckled, rolling his eyes.

“Yes, yes, she’s my good little kohai. She can totally kick anyone’s butt though.”

“That’s my girl.” Obake smiled. “Thank you for being a good friend to her, Takashi. Oh, and you have made a good first impression.”

“Awesome.” Takashi grinned.

Trina smiled, taking one of Obake’s hands into hers. 

“Really glad to have you back, Dad. We got a lot to catch up on.”

Obake smiled, squeezing her hand.

“And I look forward to hearing every last bit of it.”

oooooo 

“I’m going to kill that devil woman the next time I see her.” Kim growled, her eyes narrowed.

She and Shaylin were looking over Obake’s charts and treatment plans that were on his USB via Kim’s computer. They detailed everything they needed to know about his implant and how to go about handling it along with his tumor. It disgusted both Kim and Shaylin how the implant worked and what it had been doing to Obake for the past year.

“I’m in line right behind you.” Shaylin said, her own eyes narrowed. “I’m afraid to know what she would’ve done to Takashi if I had let her get near him when I called her in for opinions on his condition.”

“Poke, prod, see what makes him tick and I dunno, maybe turn him into her pet.” Kim sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “I honestly don’t know anymore. I already had a low opinion of her as it were, now it’s hit to levels of words I would never say in front of my daughter.”

“Si, si.” Shaylin shook her head. “Well, we can plan to murder her reputation later. Right now, we need to help Bob.” Shaylin turned her attention to his surgery notes. “So, we can’t dismantle the implant. It’s too embedded into the skull and would be risky to remove. So, instead, we’re reprogramming it to work to his advantage and deactivating the shock collar function.” Shaylin raised an eyebrow. “I’m surprised he wants the thing to still be active at all, though.”

“Well, seeing as it could act as an aid to keep the tumor from returning, I can see why in that regard. And… Okay, I’ll give Liv credit, giving him the ability of technokinesis is quite the feat she pulled and I can see why he’d keep it since it would have plenty of uses outside of whatever she had him do for her. Though, we’re going to need some help in regards to the tech. I’m a neurosurgeon, not a bio tech surgeon.”

“Let me take care of that part. I’m gonna call in Eboni since this is right up her alley.”

“Ah, good idea. Then I’ll just focus on the tumor.” Kim frowned as she looked at the scan, showing the state of it. “I never thought I’d see it that big.”

“It’s bad but you can handle it, right?”

Kim nodded.

“I’ve been testing a procedure for years now to remove it. I’ll have to make tweaks to it but I’m sure it’s going to work. It has to. For his sake.”

“Then we have a plan.” 

Shaylin closed the charts, getting up.

“I’ll go get the O.R. prepped and call in Eboni. We won’t start the procedure till everyone has gotten a proper rest but at the very least, everything will be ready.”

“Right.” Kim got up as well. “I’m going to go talk to Bob. I have some catching up to do.”

“Sounds good.”

The women parted ways, heading for their own respective destinations.

Kim quietly opened the door to Obake’s room, peeking inside to see if he was awake. Her heart melted as she saw him fast asleep with Trina curled up to his side, her arms around him.

Kim smiled softly, making her way into the room, closing the door behind her. She grabbed an extra blanket from one of the cabinets, draping it over Trina, who smiled in her sleep, nuzzling her father’s chest.

“Sweet dreams, Little Star.” Kim whispered, kissing her head before looking to Obake, kissing his head as well. “You too, my love.”

Obake smiled a bit in his sleep, nuzzling her a little. Kim nuzzled back before pulling away, making herself comfortable on the guest bed in the room. She took one last look at Obake and Trina before closing her eyes, drifting off to sleep.

Don’t worry, Bob. I’ll cure you soon.

I promise.