#sometimes I exaggerate what my doctors say and how they phrase it

[chryza]

Me, sitting in my doctors office kicking my legs as I wait for my third appointment in less than two months:

My doctor opening the door without even saying hello: Girlie you have me stumped.

[negobeauriva]

A deep analysis of Konstrakta's "Novo, Bolje"

I know that there are maybe many articles about this song already, considering it came out a week ago or so, but I am so in love with both the song and Konstrakta herself that I needed to put my two cents on this song and why I think it's such an awesome entry. I'm also going to make a comparison to In Corpore Sano and relate both of the songs. I hope you'll enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.

Btw, I've gotten the necessary translations from here and here.

Let's start out with the title: Novo, Bolje means New, Better. It's already an indicator that sets the pace for what is coming.

Musically, the song is quite simple - It has only three chords that keep repeating in an uniform pattern, with a distinctive synthesizer that repeats itelf throughout the song as well. It's fast paced and eclectic, very modern, to fit the theme of the lyrics. It's worth noting that the backup singers are taking a very important function here. I'll explain it later on.

Now, let's get to the lyrics. Through the entirety of the song, Konstrakta is speaking to an imaginary doctor, to which she's telling of her latest affliction: She craves novelty. She only wants new things, new improvements, nothing seems to be enough for her, and she considers this as something wrong, something to be cured. This is about addiction to novelty and consummerism - modernity has made us addicted to updates, the newest phone, the newest device, the newest social media, every new thing is exciting and we eventually run for it.

The chorus is proof of it: New, better, faster, bigger, higher, prettier, stronger. The things she has aren't somehow enough, and she claims that all of this is coming. She wants something better than good. Good isn't cutting it anymore. It needs to be better.

Konstrakta proceeds to elaborate on her point saying that if she was smarter, she could turn a kilo of bread into two, and that ever since she was born, she has been knowing about better than good, which is another jab at modernity: New generations are addicted to new things since they are little. Let's think back, how many of us in our childhoods wished for better, bigger toys or electronic devices? It's an actual reality. And with the rise of phones, tablets and similar devices in infancies, this is more present than ever.

This also speaks about self-pressure about being better than good, the line "the performance could've been better" is a reference to our modern perfectionism, and the wish to reach even higher heights everytime, with innovations that sometimes aren't necessary. Why would the Pacific ocean need to be more pacific, anyway? The grandiosity and the exaggeration are marketing elements to draw you in, to try and show you that you can, indeed, be better than good. It's exploitation disguised as motivation and self help.

Then she says that she feels set up everywhere, because she is seeing anomalies, which is another point. Consummerism is a social issue, but if you point it out in a consummerist society, you're most likely to get laughed at or gaslighted in the sense that you're not being brainwashed by the consummerism. Which leads us to the next line, Konstrakta asks the doctor what's wrong with her, why is she seeing anomalies everywhere? Why is she addicted to novelty and perfection? She's trying to break the cycle of self-awareness, and at the same time, she wants her head to shut up about the pressure of novelty and perfectionism. She might believe nobody else is going through this, which is, ironically, an anomaly on itself.

When she sings the word "better" over and over again, it eventually gets distorted by the end of the phrase, which shows us that she's losing herself. In trying so hard to reach better, to improve, she's losing and destroying pieces of herself to try and build something new. The backup singers are repeating the other adjectives: better, faster, bigger, higher, prettier, stronger. Another proof that her head presses her further than she can actually reach.

In a more calm section of the song, she says that everything is fluid, and if she stops, she'll fall through, stating that she needs to constantly go full speed, up, towards higher heights. This is very telling. At the beginning of the section, the music gets calmer, almost quiet, but as Konstrakta starts repeating the words "going up, constantly going up", the synthetizers and the fast pace are back again, supporting her claim and her "illness" - the need for speed, novelty, perfection. Nothing is enough. Nothing will ever be enough. Konstrakta is trapped on a cycle of perfectionism and addiction to novelty. In trying to break the cycle, she's perpetuating it at the same time. It's a vicious cycle from where she can't escape.

When Konstrakta asks again what's wrong with her, this time she doesn't even get to explain what affects her. Here is where the backup singers reveal their real role: They are the voice of society. While Konstrakta tries to figure herself out, the singers appear to reinforce her need for novelty, the need for something new coming, the thought that nothing is never and will never be enough. And in this final section of the song, they shut Konstrakta up: "For God's sake, there's nothing wrong with you". They're gaslighting Konstrakta into thinking it's all in her head, and that she needs to keep striving for more.

During the final section of the song, the singers chant, almost like madness, that it's coming. Novelty and progress are coming, and nobody, not even Konstrakta herself, can stop it. While all of this is happening, she screams, calls out for the doctor to help her, but she receives no help - she's being consumed by the spiral. She's being dragged by the tsunami of society, the fast paace of consummerism devouring her as she screams in agony. And then, she says the most beautiful phrase I've seen in a song in a while:

"The wish doesn't know about what is unreachable."

We can strive and wish for perfection all we want, but wanting something and being realistic about it are two completely different things. We can try to reach the moon, but we are too far to actually do it. And in our search for perfection, not only can we lose ourselves, but we can go to dangerous heights: Security breaches, the end of individual liberties, violence, stepping over people's heads to get whatever we want, however we want. The wish doesn't know what's unreacheable. Therefore, there are no limits to modernity. This is a hurricane, and it's going to destroy us all.

There is no escaping this. Which is why she closes by saying "it's coming" - Modernity is coming. We can't do anything to stop it.

Now, let me compare this masterpiece to her former Eurovision entry, In Corpore Sano.

It's curious to notice that both songs have the same length. In Corpore Sano, in case you need a reminder, speaks about how an artist must keep themselves healthy, appreciating our health and the moments in which we have it, to be thankful for being healthy and our body properly functioning. It's a jab at the Serbian medical system for it's negiglence with artists and the lack of medical insurance for them, also stating how health is a privilege, citing Meghan Markle's hair as an example to kick off the song and start speaking about hydration and health problems and how to identify them.

A healthy mind in a healthy body, a sick mind, a scared mind... Where do we go from this?

This song is more ominous, and the beautiful staging was also very ominous, setting the atmosphere for Konstrakta to become an advocate for Serbian artists and their health system. Art and social criticism, hand in hand.

Both In Corpore Sano and Novo, Bolje speak about health, one being physical, the other being mental. In the case of In Corpore Sano, the background singers don't take as big of a role as they do in Novo, Bolje, and when they do, they reinforce Konstrakta's message, instead of being dismissive about it or trying to shut it down. Both the songs are written in minor keys and are limited to a couple chords, keeping it simple.

In Corpore Sano is slower paced, as if trying to get people to understand the point. We also get a hint of grief - Konstrakta lost her bandmate and friend Miroslav Ničić to leukemia in 2019, which inspired this song to come to fruition. Novo, Bolje, is faster paced, showing us the chaos and the need to rush that the song tried to criticize, and it's repetitive, highly repetitive, to catch people in. The catchy tune is meant to make you forget the point of the song, showcasing how tone deaf society can be sometimes.

At the same time, In Corpore Sano has a hint of divinity. God grants us health, but I don't have medical insurance. Latin has always been a language related to holiness, to purity. Novo, Bolje, has no divinity to it, it's quite banal, vulgar if we try to compare it to Latin - in the Middle Ages, any language that wasn't Latin was called vulgar, meaning "of the people". This song is nowhere near God. Our society has killed God, and has gone beyond divinity. Holy Modernity, mother of our Society, has taken over.

In Corpore Sano is meant to be a ritual song in all of its aspects - we see Konstrakta moving and clapping her hands, cleaning them ritually with her backup singers as assistants, overseeing the process as if to take care of her. They are dressed in black, Konstrakta in white, showing herself as a pure, healthy being, trying to teach others about health and how to keep it. We haven't seen anything about Novo, Bolje's staging, but the concept Konstrakta has shown with her in blue skin and an eccentric white attire, with the caption "The Kilimanjaro could be higher" (a brilliant reference), is meant to scandalize, to be weird, to make you think about the absurdity of things. Again, there is no holiness, no ritualism, nothing. It's banal. It's empty. And that banality, along with the message, is what makes this whole concept beautiful on itself. It's what makes it so brilliant and so well crafted.

I hope you've made it so far and that you have liked this analysis. In short, Konstrakta is a genius, a musical and lyrical genius, and I can't wait to see her again setting foot on Eurovision's stage. I hope this helps you look at her song with new eyes.

She's definetely gotten newer and better.

---

I'm adding a new section of this analysis, to further it, now that Novo, Bolje's staging has been revealed.

First off, I want to thank every single one of you who gave support to the original version of the analysis, from the fans, to people from Serbia, to Konstrakta herself! I'm super honored to have been shared and promoted by her. It feels amazing.

Now, onto what's important: The staging.

Many people have put criticism on the fact that "this is just the same as last time", but they fail to perceive this is the exact message Konstrakta wants to get across. Modernity promises new, better, bigger, stronger, faster, prettier... But in the end most of the things that it produces are the same that they were before. Many new phones end up being the exact same as old models, but with a very small improvement, sometimes hard to see. This is the reason why Novo, Bolje is so similar to it's eldest sister, In Corpore Sano. A sequel that doesn't feel as much as a sequel, and in there resides its charm.

I've also been pointed out to the fact that this is supposed to be a satire against returning artists and their efforts to make something "new, better", and I really like that approach. It's a very interesting artistic satire.

Konstrakta is once again dressed in white, and her singers in black - A contrast between divinity and evil. But this also reinforces the fact that she is the "odd one out", she's questioning modernity, she's the one going against the norm. She's different from everyone around her. The fact that we can't ever see the "doctor" she's referring to, also helps reinforce this message. This will come back later, so keep it in mind.

This time around, she is not washing her hands, but instead making bread. Bread has many symbolisms, but in religion, bread symbolizes the gift to God to humankind - a stark contrast to a godless modernity, as stated prior in this analysis. Bread is the most basic of meals, and one of the easiest to put together, it's universal, every culture has its own version of bread. Just like modernity, universal, basic, stripped out of all value when you truly look into it. Bread is one of humanity's turning points. Modernity is, too, one of humanity's turning points. The creation of the Internet, the introduction of cellphones and computers, the invention of social media, didn't they all change humanity as we know it, just like bread did? Also, just like bread, these novelties are "food" - a basic need, something we can't live without now that we have discovered it.

Interestingly enough, the words "Not new, not better" flash around the first minutes of the song. This "episode" is so similar to the past one, it seems to contradict its title, but then again, therein lies its charm.

In the background, we always see eyes on the sides of the stage. "Big brother is watching you" - rings a bell? Modernity has its eyes everywhere. You are constantly being watched, you have to keep on track, not question anything and just lift your head and pretend everything is normal.

Konstrakta is constantly kneading the dough, never do we see her putting it into the oven - this can also make a reference to the "it's coming" line of her song. The bread is coming, it's supposed to come out soon, just as novelty is coming. Evo sa'ce, how the song would say. Inbetween, Konstrakta lets the dough rest, covered. Anyone who's made bread or seen a bread recipe, know that this is so the dough rises up. Just like a further section of the song, rising up, constantly up. If we tie this to the political meaning I've seen people add to the song, this could also double up as the gestation of an uprising against politicians, or even the fake promises they make.

During the first part, her backup singers are huddled in a corner, and from there they scream at her "it's not enough". This is a perfect parallel to what I put in the first half of the analysis, about self-pressure, perfectionism and how they play a big part on modernity's declining mental health crisis.

In one part, Konstrakta uncovers the dough and just stares at it, along with her backup singers. They all stay there, perfectly still, like Mary watching Jesus in many religious imagery. They stay so still one wonders if something's really happening. As this section ends, a gate opens behind her as she adresses the "doctor", showing a white glow. This is the only time we get that the "doctor" is not really there, it's more like a self-reflection device. And this, once again, symbolizes the divinity amongst the profanity. Holy Modernity, mother of society. Once this happens, Konstrakta goes back to kneeading the bread. It's in the part where she talks about the need to go constantly up, putting up self-pressure and the anxiety of not being perceived as a perfect, functioning piece of society. It's a brilliant parallel.

As that section goes on, we can see one of her backup singers wave their white cloth around. The others stay perfectly still. This is also a symbolism of being the odd one out, how the one that's anxious and constantly on the grind is also frowned upon in some sense.

After the section where the singers tell Konstrakta to calm down, they start circling her while she keeps up her work. It becomes erratic and chaotic, just exactly as I had pictured in my head. Ultimately, Konstrakta is left alone on stage. Covering the dough once more, she claims "it's coming". The bread is coming. Modernity is coming. "Food" is coming.

I'm once again fascinated, throughly fascinated and thrilled by this woman's thought process. As I write this, I got the news she made it into the final! I'm so happy for her. March 3rd, I turn 26 years old. And it'd be the greatest early gift to see her win.

This was, indeed, new, better, and brilliant.

[shiningwonderland]

Syo Kurusu (Repeat)

Translator: Terry (Twitter: turtlemudge)

Proofreader: Raz (Twitter: agnadance)

November — Se Bisogna

The holiday after the school festival has ended, and regular classes have begun again. 

After school, everyone's very busy preparing for the graduation audition. 

Syo-kun and I are preparing too. We decided to come to the recording studio to practice our song. 

Haruka Nanami: Is Kaoru-kun still staying in your dorm room? 

Syo Kurusu: Yeah. I keep telling to go home, but he won't listen. 

Syo-kun's younger twin brother, Kaoru-kun, really wants Syo-kun to move back home.

He refuses to leave without him. True to his word,  he's stayed in the dorms ever since the school festival. 

Haruka Nanami: He's not even going to school, then? 

Syo Kurusu: That's right. … He's pretty bright, though. Did you know that Saotome Academy has a sister school? 

Haruka Nanami: Uh… yeah. It's, um, a really elite prep school, right? With experts in a lot of different fields? 

Syo Kurusu: Yeah, he's… well, he's enrolled in their medical course. It's a nine year course.

Syo Kurusu: He originally meant to apply here with me, but he had a fever on the day of the audition, and he wasn't able to come. 

Syo Kurusu: Then, he took the test there as a fallback option, and he managed to pass… He said that if he couldn't become an idol with me, then he wanted to be a doctor. 

Syo Kurusu: He's made that choice, so he should stick with it. I don't get what he thinks he's doing… Geez, he's such a worrywart…

Haruka Nanami: Aren't your parents worried…? 

Syo Kurusu: Well, yeah, probably, but they basically let us do what we want. They taught us to be responsible for ourselves and our choices. 

Syo Kurusu: They'd get super mad if we caused trouble for other people, but other than that they gave us free rein. 

Haruka Nanami: Come to think of it, I've never asked about your parents. What do they do? 

Syo Kurusu: Oh, have I not told you yet? My mom's an orchestra conductor. She's always going overseas for concerts and the like.

Syo Kurusu: It was because of her that I started learning the violin. 

Syo Kurusu: My father does hair styling and makeup for Shining Agency. He seems to get along pretty well with Shining. 

Syo Kurusu: Oh, but I'm not here because of favoritism. I got into Shining Academy on my own merit, not by taking advantage of connections or anything like that! 

Haruka Nanami: Yeah, I know that. You're singing is… really cool, after all. 

Syo Kurusu: … just my singing...? 

Haruka Nanami: No, not just that. I think everything about you is cool, Syo-kun. 

Syo Kurusu: Everything? … Come on, that's a bit of an exaggeration even for you…

Haruka Nanami: No, it's not! You're kind and cool and…

Syo Kurusu: A-anyway! We go to sister schools, and my father's an acquaintance of Shining. 

Syo Kurusu: But my dad doesn't seem worried about the situation, so… Actually, I wonder if Kaoru sweet-talked him into being okay with it. 

Syo Kurusu: He's usually a crybaby and a total pushover, but he gets stubborn over the weirdest things… and I can't say I agree with his methods, either. 

Syo Kurusu: He has serious tunnel vision. It's a pain in the ass.

Select the Phrase!

心配なんだね He's worried about you, right?  (+10 Love, +5 Music)

Syo Kurusu: Yeah, that might be what's going on. But even if it is, he's overdoing it. 

Haruka Nanami: You know… I think I may understand how Kaoru-kun feels. 

Syo Kurusu: What, are you taking his side now? 

Haruka Nanami: … I mean, you do push yourself too far sometimes. 

Syo Kurusu: Are you saying it's a bad thing to work hard? 

Haruka Nanami: No, not exactly… It just feels like if I take my eyes off you for too long, you might just keep going till you collapse. 

Syo Kurusu: It's a man's job to go beyond his limits! When should I be trying my best, if not now?

Haruka Nanami: … You have a point, but… But, I want you to take breaks sometimes, too. I want you to lean on me when you need to. 

Haruka Nanami: I know I may not be of much use to you, but I'd still like you to be able to count on me. Even if all you need is someone to vent to every once in a while. Okay? 

Syo Kurusu: Don't be ridiculous. You want me to come whining to you? What kind of man would do a thing like that?! 

Haruka Nanami: … Am I really… that useless to you…? 

Syo Kurusu: Ahh, come on!! Don't look at me like that! I already rely on you plenty, okay? 

Haruka Nanami: Huh…? 

Syo Kurusu: I can't sing without you, after all. I mean, you also make my songs...

Syo-kun grips my shoulder firmly, looking me straight in the eye. 

Syo Kurusu: Because you're here… I can go full speed ahead, knowing you'll stop me if I take things too far. 

Syo Kurusu: This way, I can focus on fighting my hardest. I can sing my heart out, knowing that I can trust you to have my back. 

Haruka Nanami: Syo-kun…

Syo Kurusu: … So please, don't look at me like that…

The hand that had been gripping my shoulder moves to my back, running gently through my hair...

And then Syo-kun pats me gently on the back. Once, twice. 

Almost like he's comforting a small child. 

Syo Kurusu: … I'm going to be fine…

While I'm letting myself be comforted by Syo-kun's words, I suddenly realize how little distance is left between us. Before I know it, my face is turning red. 

Syo Kurusu: Sorry… I just… uh… When Kaoru was little, I… I used to do that when he was about to start crying, and it usually cheered him up… so…

Oh, so he's trying to cheer me up because I looked worried. 

Haruka Nanami: I understand. Thank you.

大好きなんだね It's because he loves you, right? (+5 Love, +5 Music)

Haruka Nanami: You're his big brother, after all. 

Syo Kurusu: Yeah, I should be happy about that, I know... I mean, I love him too, he is my twin and everything. 

Still, it's time for him to start learning to stand on his own. We can't be together forever. 

Syo-kun gazes at the microphone with conviction. 

Syo Kurusu: You have to be able to chase your dream on your own, after all. 

Haruka Nanami: You're not alone, Syo-kun. 

I grip the hem of Syo-kun's uniform tightly. 

Syo Kurusu: Hm? 

Syo-kun turns, looking straight at me. 

Haruka Nanami: I'm right here. I'm you're partner, so I'll always be with you. 

I… don't want Syo-kun to talk like he's all alone. 

Syo Kurusu: Oh, yeah. You're right. Thanks, Haruka!! 

Syo-kun pats me on the head. 

Even if all I can do is make things a tiny bit easier for him… 

… I want to stay by his side and support him, no matter what. 

I want us to keep working together. Forever, come what may….=

お兄ちゃん子なんだね Has he always been a bit of a tag-along? (+0 Love, +5 Music) 

Syo Kurusu: Kinda. Well, either way, I wish he'd give me a bit more breathing room. 

Haruka Nanami: But if he did, wouldn't you feel a bit lonely…? 

Syo Kurusu: Not really. I have you now, after all. 

Haruka Nanami: … Syo-kun… 

Syo Kurusu: Just kidding… I mean, it's not just you, I've got loads of friends here… But I'm most comfortable around you, I guess…

Anyway! We're supposed to be practicing, right? So let's practice!

I used to think that Kaoru-kun would return home after two or three days, but…

��� even a week later, he's still there, and it doesn't seem like he plans to leave anytime soon. 

Kaoru Kurusu: Ah! Welcome back, Syo-chan~. I've been waiting~. I'm so hungry…

Syo Kurusu: Kaoru… seriously… You can't keep doing this. 

Syo Kurusu: The term's already started. Don't come crying to me if you can't catch up with the curriculum!! 

Kaoru Kurusu: It's fine. I'm plenty clever!! Besides, I've stayed in touch with the teachers and everything! They know I'm in the dorms here…

Kaoru Kurusu: I told them my brother had a medical emergency and I'm staying with him for a little while. They were very understanding. 

Syo Kurusu: It still counts as you missing class though, right? 

Kaoru Kurusu: As long as I turn in make-up reports, it'll be fine. My school doesn't really care what I do, as long as I keep my test grades up. 

Syo Kurusu: Ugh, it figures that Saotome Academy's sister school would be like that… There's limits to letting students slack off…

Syo Kurusu: Seriously though, you can't study properly here, can you? Go home! 

Kaoru Kurusu: Look… I'm worried about you, Syo-chan. I'm sure that the second I leave, you'll go back to overworking yourself. 

Syo Kurusu: That was just bad timing! I'm not going to do that again. I promise. 

Kaoru Kurusu: But… that was just for the school festival. You're only going to practice harder from now on, right? 

Syo Kurusu: Are you saying you can't trust me?

Kaoru Kurusu: I mean… your version of "fine" is pretty messed up. 

Kaoru Kurusu: If I don't stop you, who will? I'm the only one who does. 

Syo Kurusu: I can't believe you… what do I have to do to convince you to leave? … Are you just gonna drop everything every time I collapse or whatever? 

Kaoru Kurusu: I'm not "dropping" anything…

Syo Kurusu: Look, at the very least, this is going to have a bad effect on your life if you keep it up. … I'm the one who's worried about you. 

Kaoru Kurusu: … Then… if it isn't me, who's going to take my place…? 

Syo Kurusu: Your place? 

Kaoru Kurusu: Yeah. For instance, if you were to get a girlfriend, and she promised to look after you, I'd be okay with going home…

Kaoru-kun returns Syo-kun's glare with a challenging expression, as if he wants to say, "I'd like to see you try." 

Syo Kurusu: A girlfriend…

Select the Phrase!

うちは恋愛禁…… That's not allowed here… (+0 Love, +5 Music)

Syo Kurusu: Aaaaaahh!!

Syo-kun panics and covers my mouth with his hand. 

Then he lowers his voice.

Syo Kurusu: Don't be stupid! If we tell him that, then he'll know I couldn't get a girlfriend even if I wanted to…

He whispers desperately into my ear.

Haruka Nanami: Ah… I see…

Kaoru Kurusu: … Is something wrong? 

Syo Kurusu: Uh, oh, nothing. So… a girlfriend, huh? If I have a girlfriend you'll get off my back?

Kaoru Kurusu: If you really get a girlfriend, then yeah. 

Come to think of it, I've never asked… Syo-kun is handsome and charming, so maybe… he does have a girlfriend… 

Girls and boys at this school aren't allowed to date each other, so I don't think he's dating anyone here, but maybe he's had a girlfriend since middle school, or something like that…

But if that were the case, then Kaoru-kun would probably know her… I wonder...?

彼女……？A girlfriend…? (+10 Love, +0 Music) 

Kaoru Kurusu: Yeah. Someone that cares about Syo-kun as much as I do, or even more than me. If he has someone by his side who'll protect him, that's good enough for me. 

Syo Kurusu: Hm… a girlfriend, huh…?

彼女でないとダメですか？Does it have to be a girlfriend?  (+5 Love, +0 Music)

Kaoru Kurusu: What do you mean? 

Haruka Nanami: There are a lot of people who care about Syo-kun and worry a lot about him…

Haruka Nanami: I would think you've realized this already by living here, but Shinomiya-san cares about Syo-kun a great deal. 

Kaoru Kurusu: I mean, I did kind of get that idea, but that guy seems pretty delicate, too… I'm pretty sure Syo-kun's stronger than he is. 

Syo Kurusu: I mean, with his glasses on, maybe… 

Kaoru Kurusu: Glasses…? 

Syo Kurusu: Oh, uh, nothing. Anyway, if I get a girlfriend, that'll satisfy you, is that right? 

Kaoru Kurusu: Yeah. But it has to be a real girlfriend. A friend doesn't count.

The next day, when Syo-kun and I go to school, we ask Ichinose-san and Jinguji-san for advice on what to do about Kaoru-kun. 

Syo Kurusu: … So, basically, he doesn't want to go home. At all. 

Syo Kurusu: But I don't have a girlfriend. Or anyone I could make my girlfriend, for that matter. 

Tokiya Ichinose: It's taboo for an idol to have a lover in the first place. And besides, getting one is not the sort of thing you can just pull off on a whim. 

Ren Jinguji: … That's not exactly true. All you need is passion and good timing. But regardless, you don't actually need a real girlfriend for this anyway… or am I wrong? 

Tokiya Ichinose: Ren… what exactly are you getting at? 

Ren Jinguji: It's quite simple, really. All he needs to do is convince his brother that he has a girlfriend, right? In that case, the Lady can pretend she's Shorty's lover. 

Syo Kurusu: Huh?! Whaaaat?!?

Haruka Nanami: Um, uhhh...?!? M-me, S-Syo-kun's…? 

I glance over to Syo-kun. He seems upset, and won't look in my direction. 

Ren Jinguji: Well, I'm not sure if Shorty's good enough boyfriend material to suit the Lady...

Syo Kurusu: Watch it!! What are you implying?! 

Ren Jinguji: You're about ten centimeters off from a good balance between you two, or am I wrong?  

Tokiya Ichinose: Ren… It's asking a bit much to demand he change a physical trait. There's nothing to be done on that front. 

Syo Kurusu: Dammit!! Quit making fun of me…! A man can be more than meets the eye! It's the heart that's important. You hear me?! The heart!!

Select the Phrase!

は、はいっ！O-of course! (+5 Love, +0 Music) 

Syo Kurusu: You said it!! 

Ren Jinguji: Hmmm. Well, in that case, everything's fine. You two shouldn't have any problem pretending to be lovers, right?

見た目も少しは大切かと…… I think appearance is a little important, too... (+5 Love, +5 Music) 

Syo Kurusu: Really?! I guess that means short guys are no good, huh…? 

Haruka Nanami: Ah, um… that's not quite what I meant… More that, appearance can be part of a person's individuality. It can be part of what makes them attractive, or…

Haruka Nanami: Anyway, I figure that idols need to craft an appearance that their fans can come to love, if that makes sense?  

Haruka Nanami: B-but, Syo-kun, you're already… really handsome…

Haruka Nanami: You have a great fashion sense, and your eyes are really clear and bright, and you're just so great…

Syo Kurusu: Oh, I see… well, of course! I'm a future BIG IDOL, after all!! 

Ren Jinguji: Well then, that settles it. All you and the Lady have to do is pretend to be lovers.

今のままでもかっこいいです You're already handsome just the way you are. (+20 Love, +0 Music) 

Syo Kurusu: Huh?! Handsome—!?! ...I-I mean, yes. Of course I'm handsome. That much is obvious. 

Tokiya Ichinose: Actually, it seems as though you have profound doubts on that front, judging by your reaction. 

Ren Jinguji: He's used to being called "cute," but I bet he hasn't been called "handsome" all that often. 

Jinguji-san shrugs, smirking. 

Syo Kurusu: That's not true…

Syo-kun begins to sulk, pouting a little.

Tokiya Ichinose: I, at least, have never heard such a thing directed at him. 

As Ichinose-san speaks, Syo-kun gets more and more upset. 

Syo Kurusu: Argh…

Ren Jinguji: Well, how about it, Lady? 

Ren Jinguji: Wouldn't you be overjoyed to take a handsome man like Shorty as a lover? 

Haruka Nanami: Ah… uh… I mean… it'd be an honor. But… I don't think I'd really be a suitable choice? A cuter girl would be…

Syo Kurusu: Nah… you'd be fine. Or actually, I'd rather it be you. If it was some other girl, there'd be more risk of it getting out. 

Ren Jinguji: Well then, that's that. All the Lady and Shorty need to do is pretend to be lovers.

Tokiya Ichinose: … That's true. There's the rule against romance, but I don't think you need to make too big of a scene of things. As long as you only pretend in front of Kaoru-kun, it should be fine. 

Syo Kurusu: Ah… but, well… I don't really know the basics of how to act to seem like we're… like that? 

Ren Jinguji: Well, that's easy. Just do this… Lady… 

Jinguji-san wraps his arm around me, placing his hand on the small of my back and drawing me towards him. 

Um… w-what is he…? 

Jinguji-san puts a hand beneath my chin, forcing me to raise my face to his.

He gazes at me with passion in his eyes. 

Haruka Nanami: Y-yes? 

Ren Jinguji: I love you. 

Haruka Nanami: !!! U-um, um-um-um-um…

Ren Jinguji: Come now, Lady. Your line here is "I'm yours, Syo-kun." Then, all you need to do is let those pretty eyes drift closed. Okay, give it a go, Shorty. 

Syo Kurusu: H… How am I supposed to do something that embarrassing?!?!

Haruka Nanami: G-good point… 

Syo Kurusu: I—I have to take one step at a time… but anyway, things like that are best kept private, y'know...? 

Syo Kurusu: Like… when it's just the two of us…

Syo-kun looks at me with a pleading expression. I… I can't say I have any experience in such things, but it does seem like the sort of thing you shouldn't do in front of other people. 

Haruka Nanami: Ah… Um, w-well. It… doesn't seem like something you should do wherever, all the time… so…

Ren Jinguji: Really? I do it all the time. I don't hold back with someone who's dear to me.

Tokiya Ichinose: Please practice a little self-restraint before it can become a problem. If it does, it'll already be too late. 

Ren Jinguji: Aw, come on, it'll be fine. No one's gonna catch me. Who do you think you're talking to? 

Tokiya Ichinose: Sigh… I can't believe you… Regardless, Ren's behavior doesn't suit the two of you.

Syo-kun and I nod deeply, agreeing with Ichinose-san's advice. 

Tokiya Ichinose: You're both fairly late bloomers, after all. If you want to get over your embarrassment, you'll need to follow the proper procedures… Let's see…

Tokiya Ichinose: Holding each other's gaze first, then holding hands, then an arm around the shoulders, then full embrace. A kiss on the forehead, and then a kiss on the lips. And then….  Why are you looking at me like that? 

Syo Kurusu: No, it's just… how do I put this…? Listing it all out like that is somehow even more embarrassing…

Haruka Nanami: If we follow those steps, will our performance improve? 

Tokiya Ichinose: … I wonder. Perhaps not, but… Well, for now, how about you start by holding hands and looking into each other's eyes? 

Syo Kurusu: … Holding hands…? 

Haruka Nanami: And looking into…

I glance at Syo-kun, but… I get embarrassed the second our eyes meet. We both end up looking away. 

But if we want to convince Kaoru-kun, we'll have to try harder… 

Syo Kurusu: I'm… gonna take your hand… Ready? 

Haruka Nanami: Y-yes… 

Trying our best not to look at each other, we extend our hands. 

*Bump!*

The instant our fingers brush, I retract my hand in a flash. 

Syo Kurusu: Uh… okay… so that happened. I'm gonna try again…

Haruka Nanami: I'm so sorry. I'll do it right this time. 

Syo Kurusu: No, it's fine. It's not worth freaking out over…

I think holding hands wouldn't be so difficult to manage normally, but doing so intentionally makes it incredibly embarrassing. 

It's not as though Syo-kun has never held my hand before…

But being so aware of it… not to mention doing it in front of other people…

Ren Jinguji: … Are they seriously acting like this about just holding hands? 

Tokiya Ichinose: I'm unsure if it's their clumsiness or some other factor, but I'm starting to feel embarrassed just watching this. 

Syo Kurusu: Look… We can go at whatever pace is comfortable for you…

Haruka Nanami: … All right. 

After trying over and over, Syo-kun and I manage to get as far as holding hands. 

I'm a little nervous to be touching Syo-kun so directly, but he wraps his hand around mine gently, without exerting too much pressure. 

Then, after school, Kaoru-kun comes to watch us rehearse in the recording room. 

Syo Kurusu: … Haruka… Here goes nothing. 

Haruka Nanami: … Okay. 

Syo-kun grips my hand tightly. … He's so strong…

Even though he seemed so embarrassed up till now, in the moment of truth Syo-kun readily takes the lead. He… really is cool, and handsome. 

Syo Kurusu: K-Kaoru!! 

Kaoru Kurusu: What's up, Syo-chan? Why are you making that scary face? Aren't you going to practice? 

Syo Kurusu: I've kept quiet about this until now, but… We're dating!!!

Syo Kurusu: So you don't have to worry. Go home already. 

Kaoru Kurusu: Really!? You're really, truly dating? You're going out with her??? 

Haruka Nanami: Ah, well… I mean… 

Select the Phrase!

たぶん…… Probably… (+5 Music) 

Kaoru Kurusu: What? What does that mean? 

Syo Kurusu: "Probably"? Really? 

Haruka Nanami: Ah, s-sorry, that came out wrong. We're dating. Um… seriously…

As I start to get flustered, Syo-kun wraps a gentle arm around my shoulders. 

Syo Kurusu: … It's okay. Calm down, I'll handle this. 

He murmurs reassuringly to me, keeping his voice low. 

Syo-kun…

Syo Kurusu: She may not look it, but she's incredibly dedicated. I've put my trust in her. So even if you aren't around all the time, I'll be okay. 

Haruka Nanami: T-that's right!! P-please leave Syo-kun to me…

Kaoru Kurusu: Hmm… Somehow, I can't quite believe you.

は、はい 。 Y-yes, I am. (+10 Love, +5 Music) 

Haruka Nanami: Um… please t-trust me to look after Syo-kun. I'll be by his side always. I won't take my eyes off him for a moment!! 

Syo Kurusu: She… gets a little worked up sometimes. And she has made mistakes before, but… Overall, she's pretty great. 

Syo Kurusu: She's no good at lying, and she has a bad habit of taking on anything anybody asks…. But I've never so much as seen her get annoyed. 

Syo Kurusu: Besides… she writes amazing music. I'm sure that if I have her at my side, I can become a better performer than ever. 

Haruka Nanami: … Syo-kun…

Is that really what he thinks of me…? 

Haruka Nanami: Ah, um! I may not be the most reliable person in the world, but… I promise I'll look after Syo-kun properly! 

Syo Kurusu: "Look after"...? What am I, the class pet...? 

Haruka Nanami: Ah, no! That's not what I meant…

Syo Kurusu: Well, whatever. Anyway, she's my girlfriend. … Does that make you feel better? 

With his arm still wrapped around me, Syo-kun turns to Kaoru with a bright, satisfied smile.  

Kaoru Kurusu: You can't convince me that easily. There's something fishy about this. Are you really his girlfriend?

大好きです！I love it! (+20 Love, +5 Music)

Syo Kurusu: Silly. What's "it," here? What are you trying to say? 

Haruka Nanami: Ah, g-good point…

Syo Kurusu: Besides, I'd like you to let me say it first. 

Syo Kurusu: Kaoru!! I'm in love with this girl. 

Syo-kun wraps a gentle arm around my shoulders. 

Haruka Nanami: U-um… I-I'm… in love… with Syo-kun.

Haruka Nanami: It's the truth!! I really love him… So!! 

Kaoru Kurusu: I don't buy it. You said you were partners when we first met, right? When did you start dating? There's something fishy about all this.

Kaoru-kun looks us over suspiciously. 

M-maybe this was enough? Or maybe we've been caught.

Judging by the way his arm tightens around my shoulders... Syo-kun might be feeling nervous, too. 

Kaoru Kurusu: Anybody can just say something like that. … I want proof. 

Syo Kurusu: Proof? 

Kaoru Kurusu: Yeah. If you kiss her in front of me, I'll believe you. If you're dating, that should be easy enough, right? 

Syo Kurusu: …

Haruka Nanami: …

Suddenly being told to kiss… when we're not even dating in the first place… What should we…? 

Kaoru Kurusu: Can't, huh? Well, then… I don't believe you. 

Syo Kurusu: We can! … Of course we can, that's easy. 

Haruka Nanami: Eh…? 

S—Syo-kun, what are you…? 

Syo Kurusu: Haruka!! Ready…? 

Um… I…

It would be my first kiss… But, if it's Syo-kun…

Syo-kun embraces me tightly enough that he squeezes me a bit. 

Haruka Nanami: Ah…

Syo Kurusu: We'll… take it one step at a time…

Syo-kun murmurs this in my ear, speaking too quietly for Kaoru-kun to hear it. 

I relax, letting Syo-kun do what he wants. I'm sure he'll… 

Still embracing me, Syo-kun gently strokes my hair. 

Somehow, even though my heart is still racing, I feel myself starting to relax. 

The hand that had been gripping me tightly loosens, and Syo-kun watches me with a kind look in his eyes. 

This time, as he leans in towards me, my eyes slide shut on their own. 

*Kiss*

… Instead of kissing me on the lips, he kisses my forehead… 

… Oh, I understand. He's following Ichinose-san's sequence. 

Gazing at each other, holding hands, an arm around the shoulders, a full embrace, a forehead kiss, and then a kiss on the lips. And so...

Since he did the forehead kiss, next is...

I open my eyes, and this time, Syo-kun closes his. 

… A kiss on the lips…

Steeling myself, I close my eyes as well. 

Syo Kurusu: Mm…

Syo-kun stops just in front of my lips, at the last possible second, kissing the air. And yet, he's so close that our lips may have touched a little…

The thought makes my face go a brilliant red.

Syo Kurusu: There! That good enough for you? 

Pulling away in a flash, Syo-kun turns triumphantly to Kaoru-kun. 

Kaoru Kurusu: No way… I can't believe you kissed her in front of someone else…. Not to mention while attending a school that forbids romance…

Syo Kurusu: Eh…? You knew about…? 

Kaoru Kurusu: Yeah, I knew. I said it because I never thought you'd do it. You're so dedicated, Syo-chan. I never thought you'd break a school rule. 

Kaoru Kurusu: I thought you'd never get a girlfriend under those circumstances—that's why I said it. And yet…

Kaoru Kurusu: … Do you want to stay at this school that badly? Do you want to become an idol even if puts too much strain on your body? Even if it kills you?!

Syo Kurusu: Yeah. … It's... my dream.  

Syo-kun looks Kaoru-kun straight in the eye as he says this. 

Kaoru Kurusu: You've… made up your mind already, huh? … Sigh… There's no point in trying to argue with you. Nothing I can say will stop you now. 

Kaoru Kurusu: I get it. I'll go home. … But if you collapse again, I'm absolutely forcing you to come back with me. 

Syo Kurusu: I won't. I won't let it happen again. 

And so, Kaoru-kun goes home. 

Syo Kurusu: Waaaaaahh. T-that was so embarrassing… I can't even. I'm gonna die of embarrassment. 

Syo-kun crouches down, clutching his head in his hands. 

Haruka Nanami: Um, a-are you okay? Does something hurt? 

Syo Kurusu: Of course not!! I'm never doing that again! I can't believe I did that in public!

Syo Kurusu: … Speaking of which… I'm really sorry. That… kinda came outta nowhere…

Haruka Nanami: N-no… I did wonder what you were going to do when Kaoru-kun told you to kiss me, but…

Haruka Nanami: But you rose to the occasion, Syo-kun. It's just, I got so nervous… I thought you were about to kiss me for real. 

Syo Kurusu: Don't be silly. I'd never be able to kiss you in a situation like that. … I haven't even confessed to you yet or anything…

Syo Kurusu: Ah… Dangit…

Haruka Nanami: Huh??? 

Syo Kurusu: You really don't notice much, do you. But, well, I don't hate that about you…

Syo-kun reaches out and brushes my bangs out of my face, examining me with a serious expression. 

Syo Kurusu: I'll… tell you properly someday. How I feel about you…

Syo-kun mutters something under his breath, but his voice is so quiet that I can't quite make out what it is he's saying.

Haruka Nanami: Syo-kun…?  

The next moment…

The principal suddenly appears out of an ornamental plant in the corner of the recording room. 

Shining Saotome: It's a good thing you stopped there. If you really became lovers, I'd have you expelled. 

Syo Kurusu: Waaaugh!!

Haruka Nanami: P-Principal…

Just how long has he been watching us...? 

Syo-kun and I exchange a startled glance. And then, when we glance back to the spot where the principal appeared…

… He's already vanished. 

Syo Kurusu: … What the heck was that? 

Haruka Nanami: How much do you think he saw? 

Syo Kurusu: Who knows…? Still, that was close… If I'd kissed you for real, we might've both been expelled…

Select the Phrase!

そうですね Yeah, true. (+5 Music) 

Syo Kurusu: Does this mean he might be watching us anytime, anywhere…? 

The principal, it seems, is no ordinary man.

でも…… But... (+20 Love, +5 Music) 

Haruka Nanami: It's not as though we were doing anything inappropriate, so I think if we'd explained the situation, he would have understood. 

Haruka Nanami: So I'm sure it would have been fine!! 

When I say this, brimming with confidence, Syo-kun gives me a pained smile. 

Huh? Did I say something weird?

……うん … Yeah. (+10 Love, +5 Music) 

Haruka Nanami: But… I suppose that kiss was… you know… Kind of like something in a play…? 

Haruka Nanami: There was a reason for it… I thought it'd be fine to… Uhm, that is, I mean…

Haruka Nanami: If there's ever a problem like this again, please let me know. If there's something I can do to help, no matter what it is, I'll do it. 

When Syo-kun hears me say this, he chuckles. 

Syo Kurusu: Thanks. If it does, I'll let you know. I'm counting on you. 

He pats my shoulder.

Regardless, it seems that Kaoru-kun has accepted the situation for now. 

I may not be Syo-kun's girlfriend, but I care for him a great deal. 

When I spoke to Kaoru-kun, I wasn't lying. I'll stay by Syo-kun's side and support him, always. 

I am his partner, after all. 

And yet… something about remembering the moment when I thought he was about to kiss me makes my face burn and my heart race…

I wonder if that effect will have worn off by tomorrow. 

MINI-GAME

Ryuya Hyuga: It's been a while since we had one, so it's time for a pop quiz! Textbooks closed, everyone!

Ryuya Hyuga: If your grade's too low, you're getting a week of make-up lessons!! Try your best to get a perfect score!! 

Ryuya Hyuga: The format's the same as before, but you've studied a lot so should know a lot more by now! The questions will be more difficult this time. Brace yourselves! 

Ryuya Hyuga: Choose the answer you think is best from the options provided! All right, time to get started. Begin! 

S-RANK

Syo Kurusu: Whoa… you really know your stuff, huh. Even I don't know if I could—uh, wait, no, of course I know all that stuff… o-obviously. 

Haruka Nanami: … Syo-kun, you didn't get a bad grade on the test, did you? 

When I thoughtlessly ask this question, Syo-kun turns bright red and looks away. 

I'm afraid I hurt his feelings. … What should I do…? 

Haruka Nanami: Um… would it be okay if we studied together next time? 

And so, I get to see Syo-kun smiling again while we study together. 

… I'm glad I was able to smooth things over with him. 

Chapter End

[undefeatablesin]

instead of brain there's just fangs

as the ultra extra ephitome of amateur artist i am i did study human teeth (thanks for leaving a dental record copy with me doctor, it was very useful) but i didn't study animal teeth 🤔, so whenever i wanted to draw human-sharp teeth i just pulled the forms out of my ass and it ended with the piranha-like form (stupid ass brain didn't even consider studying animal teeth)

thanks for the much needed advice! since you don't have a problem with using your art as reference (and my art isn't posted) i'll try to make a balance between studying and referencing. (does this phrase makes sense in english? i have no idea)

came here expecting gold and found diamond instead

Sometimes the most obvious solution is the one we always forget to consider. It's very easy to get into the mindset that you should know or do know what something looks like...and then we are surprised when it actually looks completely different to what we thought! I have done this many times 😅

But nowadays, animals are the first thing I look at when trying to come up with designs for inhuman qualities. I usually start designing a character by building a mini moodboard/a photo album of reference images for the character, and almost always, an animal is a key focial point (often this is the case even for characters that don't have inhuman features too!) I know this is common for a lot of artists, and for good reason. It just works!

With Aloysha being a werewolf, it was an obvious choice to study wolves when trying to decide how she looks, particularly in her beast form. But jackals have also started to inform my design choices for her, and so have striped hyenas. Animals are a never-ending source of inspiration for character design and a valuable resource to learn stylised or exaggerated anatomy from!

You are very welcome for the advice, though! ✨️ I love to help people when I can and I'm always glad to answer questions or pass on the knowledge that has helped me. If even one thing I say is of use, then I consider that a success! 🫡

[toinfinitywinning]

Dear IVIg—I’m still thankful you’re an option but youuu suck.

🤞🏼If it doesn’t help the only other known option to help relieve Pain THAT WE KNOW OF (@⁨Mom⁩ I want to make sure u saw how I phrased this b/c of confusion last time LOL) until something else is I guess figured out is to see my neurologist in Cincy Who spoke to Serena (Williams) for my migraines and finally have to do Botox which I believe might be her last option for me as well. I mean it is possible things in Life will not be healable and that’s just what I have to tell myself. I have to stay realistic and positive at the same time —some ppl might feel differently. That’s why I’ve told ppl to pls not tell me I’m going to heal or get better. It isn’t about the gesture, I know, and have thanked ppl for meaning well. But, we, you, research has no idea. Hope. You can Hope for me but it’s too hard to hear what might never happen. Now if it was strep—barring something really bad, yea. But similarly I can’t answer people when they ask me what I’m taking for it. Or if there is a cure. So, in my eyes look at it like any other disease that’s been researched w/o a cure for decades. And COVID is very very young. I think ab as old as one of my nephews, 5 yrs. so that means as I’m sure u have already figured out on your Own that’s all the research we got. So far my body doesn’t take to any of it. It doesn’t take to many medicines either. Like at all. And that being the hard Truth I’ve had to think about how much dueling with Meds and doctors I want to do. And I told Mom the other Day i may want to Stop trying things (wait.) b/c there is actually nothing else to do. No really. That is not me giving up. It’s stopping; knowing that for now this is what we have. I’ve exhausted what is known to possibly help and I’m exhausted trying until there’s something else. It is finally resting in the fact that I can rest in the fact knowing for now I can do it. But im exhausted and all u all R too! Again sounds dramatic and it is, but I will not be a Lab mouse or statistic or trial forever. I helped research for over 2 years. And somebody got LHC a week after me Who contributed to it too. And when I say nothing has helped. That is not a Gentry like exaggeration. It’s simply sadly true. I get pockets without Pain or a migraine bandaged w/ Tylenol. At first I didn’t have to swallow that. I was not this bad at first. And having almost Pain driven hallucinations some nights is all I need to experience to make that Choice.

So, I’m giving this IVIg a really Good “shot” and the Botox if needed and continue to try what we’re doing rn and then I will live knowing I can escape for a short period of time sometimes so not to take that for granted and I truly might be one of those ppl whose Family member stays on the back of the bulletin. They’re saturated with it. I remember being little at church drawing on that back page of the bulletin and wondering why ppl just stayed there forever. I thought it was a mistake or a running Tab idk. Didn’t get it. It’s not funny but yk. I just never—no kid, anyone holding to only shreds Left of innocence ever thinks it will be them, but there is so much more we will never see on the back of one for so many other things. I like those people.

Resting in rest could be Good. Any advice on how to do that?

PS Dad and Mom not many 70 yo’s can do what you’re doing to help so Cool your jets 🤣ツ . Let me count the ways. Later.

[catwingsthespatula]

This post is so fascinating to me because I am coming at it from exactly the opposite direction.

I have low empathy. I used to think it was high because I was always the person who wanted to help other kids who got hurt, and it was mostly because I knew they were in pain and wanted to help, even if it was also partially because I'm a biology nerd and thought blood and injuries were fascinating. Then for a while I thought it was low because I got diagnosed with autism and assumed I couldn't have much empathy (which is incorrect, as were my accompanying assumptions that I couldn't possibly be particularly compassionate or kind, but that's another post). Anyway, I realized at some point that what I thought was empathy was an indirect response--to the abstract knowledge that someone was hurt. And, truly, sometimes not having the direct form of empathy is a major problem. I can't tell you how many times I've thought a conversation was going fine only for the other person to start crying and for me to realize, abruptly, that they've been very upset this whole time and I accidentally made them that way (which does hurt, quite a bit, even if just seeing someone crying doesn't).

Here's the thing. I care immensely about the wellbeing of all people, especially my friends and family. I am aware that my city has a homelessness crisis, that there's currently a genocide going on, that people all over the world are displaced and starving and ill and injured, and that many people die early and preventable deaths every day. I am sad about these things. If I see an action I can take to help, I will take it (to the point that my parents have been on my case about how much money I donate since I first had money of my own, and now I just don't tell them). If there's someone in front of me I might be able to help, I do. I regularly ask homeless people if I can buy them lunch, sit with them, and listen to their stories (that's one of the best things becoming a Christian did for my day-to-day life, honestly, is encouraging me to do that more often, stop worrying so much about how to have the most impact and focus on whoever's in front of me). I'm not saying this to brag, just to establish that I do care, and I do do something about it.

And, seeing a specific person in pain is not going to do anything to change those emotions unless it's giving me new information. The dead person on the sidewalk being given halfhearted CPR by city employees I saw on my way to a doctor's appointment with bloody froth on his mouth didn't upset me at all, because I already know people in my city are homeless and die of drug overdoses, and that man wasn't someone I knew personally and didn't know had died, so... what new thing did I have to be upset about? I have trouble even wrapping my head around the concept of finding an image of a dead stranger (or even a dead friend or relative, if you already knew that they were dead) disturbing. If anything, gory pictures appeal to me on an emotional level, because I'm still a biology nerd and still think it's fascinating to see the insides of a human being (this is why I usually avoid looking at them, because I don't like that fact about myself). I stopped watching true crime shows like Forensic Files because I have an ethical problem with the fact that they interview the families of murder victims and dredge up all that trauma for other people's entertainment, but it's certainly not because anything about the shows directly, emotionally bothered me.

And here's the thing. I now work as an in-home caregiver. I've been in situations involving my clients in immense physical and/or emotional pain, and the nature of the job is that I will be again. I care, of course, because I care about my clients as people. I love them, and that is not an empty phrase or exaggeration. But their pain doesn't shut me down. I don't suffer more helping someone with a broken arm into a sling and unavoidably causing them pain than I would at home, knowing that that person was in pain. Low empathy straight-up makes me a better healthcare worker, because it lets me focus on the client's feelings without interference from my own.

Tl;dr high empathy can absolutely be a problem from a moral standpoint, and low empathy, while coming along with its own moral challenges, can also have moral advantages that actually make it easier to be compassionate and kind toward others.

empathy gets treated as this universally positive thing but we forget that empathy often equals pain, and pain often activates fight or flight behaviors. a lot of my most asshole moments as a person were motivated by a twinge of empathy that was too painful to engage with in that moment, so i became aggressive and mean, NOT compassionate and helpful

[marcvscicero]

I know this may not mean much but I want to tell you that being so sick you can't work is NOT your fault. Pushing through it would only make you feel worse and other people who are pushing through it are likely injuring themselves more. I am unable to work too and I can understand where you're coming from. I wish I had more to offer but this stranger wanted to let you know being sick IS NOT YOUR FAULT. I promise

ur wrong, this actually means more to me than u could ever know 🥺🥺 thank you so so much for this message, i didn’t actually expect anybody to read any of the hashtags, but this is so kind of you to say.

i think it’s because i’ve had such awful doctor experiences that i end up convincing myself i must be faking and exaggerating? like i don’t have an actual diagnosis for whatever this is, so it feels like i can’t use it as an ‘excuse’?

but i don’t mean excuse in a bad way, i mean like, when i phoned in sick to work at my old job, i had no word to describe what the problem was? or what was causing it? i couldn’t be like, “oh i’m having a **** flare up”, so i had to just make something up every time, like a flu or stomach bug or virus or family problem, but it was getting ridiculous 😫

i’m really sorry to hear that you’re having the same experience, it really is shit :( and it can be so hurtful seeing people’s comments sometimes talking about how people are just being lazy and don’t want to work etc etc, and it’s usually on tiktok, and it’s never actually aimed at me, but it still hurts :// because i do want to work and i wish i could work and i wish i could live my life like i see my old friends (and seemingly everybody else) live theirs :(

it’s like people don’t understand that i don’t want to be this way? and i’ve seen so many doctors that entirely dismissed me in the most patronising, condescending way, that — this sounds rly silly — but i feel like i’ve developed some kind of . phobia or serious problem with the doctors now? like i’m actually terrified of going? (i don’t know exactly how to phrase it here, but the last time i went, the lady basically destroyed me and i just nodded along politely but then came home, wept for hours, and relapsed very badly with sh ☹️ so at this point it feels like the doctors are not exactly a good place to be)

omg i’m so sorry this got so long 😧😧 but truly thank you for this message. it really means a lot— i can’t believe you took the time to read some girlie’s silly little rant 🥺🥺

[spiciespencie]

Spencer being the camera man with you so he can have a video to watch while he's on a case and so you star following his instructions and fuck yourself, he's so turn on that he leaves the camera on the tripod, sits and he starts touching himself

hehehe i like this one ;)

CW: penetrative sex (toy), kinda voyeurism, fingering, cum play, masturbation (male and female), kissing, dom!spencer, sub!reader, a comment is made abt switch!spencer, making a porno? idk what to call it. *please let me know if i’ve missed anything*

spencer had been gone so frequently in the past few months. today, you planned on doing something special for him. you weren’t exactly sure what you should do, but that’s when he brought the solution to you.

“spence,” you piped in, stepping out of the bathroom once you had showered to peek at your boyfriend reading in a chair. “i was wondering something.”

“what would that something be?” he piped up, placing the book down on the nightstand.

“when you’re away on cases… what’s the hardest part about being away on cases?” you cringed at the wording.

“being away from you,” he answered within a heartbeat. “especially when we’re on a case where the hours are ridiculous. sometimes by the time i get to the hotel, you’re deep in sleep.”

“right…” you tried to think of some sort of solution that could stem from this issue. “what’s one of the hardest parts of being away from me?”

“what’s this about?” he chuckled as he walked closer to you, holding onto your elbows as if to stabilize you.

“i don’t know… you’ve just been gone a lot and i feel bad. i wanna do something special for you so being away wouldn’t be so tough,” you shrugged before spencer cupped your cheek and neck, bringing your lips to meet with his softly and tentatively.

“never,” he began once he pulled away, “has anyone loved me so much as to be so thoughtful. i love you beyond measure. so much so that i feel as though ‘i love you’ is too mundane a phrase,” he whispered with such sincerity it brought tears to your eyes.

“stop, i’m supposed to be displaying my love for you right now,” you shoved his shoulder playfully before giving him a hug.

“the sex,” he randomly stated. you pulled back and gave him a quizzical look. “the hardest part of being away from you, that there may be a solution for, is sex. i’m always thinking about you, and you make me horny… a lot.”

“well, doctor,” you trailed your hands to his shoulders, knowing calling him ‘doctor’ always got to him, “what is the remedy to this problem?”

and now, you were sitting naked on the bed, legs spread so spencer, and the camera, could see all of you very clearly.

you’re making a video for him for while he’s away. at least that way, he’ll still have a piece of you.

“run your hand down your body like i would, kitten, play with your tits,” he ordered, zooming the camera in to focus on only you.

“yes, doctor,” you ran your hands from your hair down to your breasts, playing with them and tweaking your nipples and massaging the pillowy flesh before trailing them down to your torso.

“now i want you to see how wet you are for me,” he added, biting his lower lip as he began to look through the camera.

you let your fingers wander between your legs, cupping your center before using your middle and ring finger to gather the wetness that’s accumulated from the way spencer had been eyeing you.

“look,” you presented your fingers to him and the camera before pressing them to your tongue and sucking all of your juices off of them. “you sure you don’t want me to relieve some of that pressure?” you eyed his obvious bulge, not like he was trying to hide it.

“i’ve got it covered, my love,” he began palming himself over his pants, his breathing becoming a bit heavier but not doing anything more; this video was all about you. “pick up the toy, suck on it like you would my dick.”

you reached onto your nightstand and grabbed the dildo he has bought you, one relatively similar in size to him that was a lavender color. you opened your mouth and hit it against your tongue how spencer would often do before allowing you to take the reigns.

once you wrapped your lips around it, you would shift eye contact between spencer and the camera, not knowing which one you wanted to look at more. you opted for the camera, that way at least future spencer could look in your eyes as he would work himself to that high you would miss witnessing. you began exaggerating everything for the sake of the camera, shoving the silicone down your throat and gagging on it, allowing your saliva to drip down to your chest, your tears staining your cheeks. it was exactly as if spencer were doing this.

although he wasn’t, it would never be that good.

“fuck, y/n,” he whispered loud enough for you to hear, acting as if the microphone wouldn’t be able to pick up the sound. “are you ready for it? or do you need to get yourself ready first?”

“can’t you do it for me?” you pleaded. “you do it so much better, make me feel so good,” even whipping out the old puppy dog eyes didn’t work.

“answer the fucking question,” he reasoned with. “are you ready for it or not?”

“i-i’m ready now,” you bit your lower lip as you swallowed thickly.

“good girl,” he grinned. “now i want you to slowly push it in.”

you listened exactly. spreading your legs even wider and planting your feet on the bed, you put the fake dick at your entrance and slowly let the head enter you. your breathing picked up slightly the deeper the toy got inside of you. by the time it was all the way inside, you were nearly out of breath.

“fuck yourself with it,” he ordered, beginning to rub himself a bit more than before. “slowly, and play with your tits too, like i would.”

pushing the toy in and out of you slower than you would’ve liked, purposefully teasing yourself, you trailed your free hand up to cup your breast. you began to knead the mound, occasionally paying special attention to your nipples like spencer would. although, you wish he would’ve taken it in his mouth then and there. he did everything better. it’s like he knew your body better than you, which was decently plausible.

“spen-spencer,” you moaned out, silently pleading him to fake mercy on you.

“faster,” he pulled himself out of his slacks now, his breathing becoming subtle moans as yours were radiating in the room.

“fuck, please,” you didn’t know what you needed, but you needed something else, something more.

“shit,” he groaned, his head falling back for the briefest of seconds. “clit,” he breathed out, “rub your clit.”

“oh my god,” you used your fingers to find the sensitive pearl and began playing with it.

it had been so long since you had done this yourself, spencer always insisted on doing it for you and when you were away, he didn’t want you to touch yourself or cum without him. he was a rather possessive dom - although you were bound to prove he was a switch somehow, but that’s for another time.

“i’m so close,” you threw your own head back. “i need you spencer! please, god!” you let the tears that were welling in your eyes overflow, hoping the man would take pity on you.

“keep going. don’t fucking stop,” he commanded as he worked himself closer to the edge.

“please!” you cried out. “let me taste you, please! cum in my mouth!” you begged him, losing all dignity and self respect for the genius across the room. “spencer! fuck-please! i need you so fucking bad!”

“cum, my love,” he chuckled as he saw your legs trembling, your knees closing in on nothing and your hands ceasing their movements as you came down. the whole time he was working himself to his own high, his cum covering his stomach after watching your spectacular performance. “wanna clean up for me?”

you eagerly nodded and removed the toy from inside, wincing slightly from the stimulation before padding across the room with weak legs and kneeling below him. he grasped your hands and it them on his knees, giving you permission to touch him. you smiled before you extended your body, bringing your tongue to his stomach and licking up all of his cum. perhaps you sucked a few marks whilst doing so… but what could you say? you loved the man, and he’s yours.

“so good for me, my love, y’know that?” you shook your head ‘no’ so he would go on. “i think you do,” you smirked at his words. “cleaning up my own mess after starring in a video for me? you’re too good for me, love.”

“never,” you interrupted as he helped you to your feet. “you deserve the best, and i can only try and provide a fraction of that for you.”

[mirroredtranslations]

Jinrui Saikyou no Netsuai - Chapter 11

From Jinrui Saikyou no Jun'ai by Nisioisin

[Previous Chapter]

Words are funny things—sometimes they lose strength through emphasis. Simple example: saying something’s “super amazing” is less powerful than just “amazing.” Shortening “sadist” and “masochist” to “ultra-S” and “ultra-M” makes the words less weighty, and saying you’re “platinum mad” might sound like you’re not actually that angry. On the other hand, saying “simply cannot” makes the sense of denial stronger compared to just saying “cannot.” Basically, if you’re not careful with your emphasis, you could end up sounding real funny. Nevertheless, I have no doubt that Doctor Kitsuregawa’s final experiment, the “Lamp of the Destitute,” was such a breakthrough that you could hardly begin to describe it even with all the emphatic expressions in the world. Call this a paradigm shift, huh… When a true advance in technology or a revolutionary way of thinking turns all of the accepted truths up ‘til that point into nothing but rotting floorboards—into deprecated, useless tech. It’s hard to say whether this experiment’s success was evidence of the power of Doctor Kitsuregawa’s mad-scientist antics, or, to put it mildly, his eccentricity coming to bear (even that “Closet” space suit might have been adopted by space agencies around the world, but it’ll never be the normal standard—I’m sure that would be pretty unprofitable), but it can’t be denied that the “Lamp of the Destitute” and the gaseous life form “Flare” had the power not only to overturn the world as we know it, but also to force humanity out of its position at the top of the evolutionary tree. Well, maybe I have to deny that. If I accepted it, then humanity—and, of course, humanity’s strongest—would lose all meaning; we’d be like abacuses after the arrival of calculators, like LDs after the arrival of DVDs and BDs. Unable to coexist, or rather, lacking a constructive reason to coexist—

“Now, then. I believe most everything should probably be left unsaid at this point—however, quite frankly, Aikawa Jun, I must say I have a rather inconsistent impression of you.”

Inconsistent? After we’d returned to the dining room, she got all standoffish again, and surprised me with that.

“Matsuri has a different opinion, I’m sure, but you seem more… decent than I expected. That is the impression I have of you so far. Yet on the other hand, you seem to be in a much closer position to Doctor Kitsuregawa than me, his rightful successor. I am struggling to decide how to interpret this.”

You’re being pretty damn straightforward and honest with me, aren’t you. But, for my part, I think both of your opinions are true. Well, me being “more decent” than you expected is going to depend on your definition of “decent”—but me being in a close position to Doctor Kitsuregawa is something I’ve been feeling even since I got here.

“So, you understand, then? About the gaseous life form, Flare… We often call it nicknames like ‘Flay’ and ‘Flame,’ but in any case, you understand the significance of the new type of life. And what we are hesitating to do.”

Life form, huh. Scientifically speaking, the definition of life is complicated—the easiest definition is “having the ability to reproduce,” but that could mean computer viruses and worms were alive. You could also say that flames have the power to reproduce themselves; fires spread, catch, and whatnot; it’s tricks of verbiage.

“…Doctor Kitsuregawa—”

The next to speak was Shimegiwa Matsuri.

“—When he remodeled my arm, this is what he said: ‘We should not seek the future of humanity—we should seek what comes after humanity.’ That might be what Flare is. Thinking about it like that, I don’t think I have the right to carelessly do anything with it.”

Hmph. That’s a stiff turn of phrase he used, but to put it another way, he might as well have said, ‘Humanity has gotten old, so let’s exchange it for something new’—just like he exchanged his own body and personality. He essentially tried to bring about the end of humanity; it’s a different approach to apocalypse than Omokage Magokoro, Humanity’s End. I wonder why that old alchemist never got along with my fathers. The normal world is under the impression that a life form to supplant humanity could never come to be, because humanity’s scientific and technological progress has outsped natural evolution. But if that scientific and technological progress itself gave rise to “what comes after”…

“At this point I do not think it necessary, but allow me to go over the outline just in case. I do need to fulfill my duty of explanation, after all, as the second-generation Doctor Kitsuregawa. The ‘Lamp of the Destitute’ is an experiment in producing life beyond humanity—the purpose of creating me, a homunculus, was ‘to make a human using non-human parts,’ and Matsuri’s was about ‘turning the human body into vaporous form.’ Flare, then, is the result of instilling a superior life force into a gaseous body created using non-human materials. You are free to take the word ‘superior’ at face value here.”

Hmm. In other words, it’s “better” than a human’s, huh. If it weren’t, there’d be no reason to hesitate about continuing the research. Ultimately, that’s what this is all about. Second-generation Doctor Kitsuregawa, Hotsure-chan, and Shimegiwa are asking me what to do about the “Lamp of the Destitute,” without considering potential value. I doubt anyone could say they were just kids and cast them aside. After all, no adult could fully appreciate its value, either—depending on what happens next, it could very well put an end to human history, and that’s no exaggeration.

“Of course, that would be the worst-case scenario. But it is by no means a small possibility… Since you are the arbiter of strength, perhaps you have a better understanding of the power of a being capable of existing in gaseous form?”

I’m not the god of strength or whatever, you know… Well, thinking of my fight with Shimegiwa, I guess she’s right. I’ve casually shoved my right hand in my pocket, but this arm is still burned to a crisp—if the rule hadn’t been “whoever falls first loses,” I don’t know how I’d have ended up. …Hotsure-chan. The ‘Lamp of the Destitute’ isn’t stuck, is it? If you wanted to, you could continue the research, right?

“……”

The lack of response was response enough.

“What would you do, Aikawa Jun?”

Shimegiwa sounded like he was trying to back Hotsure-chan up. Well, judging from that defiant look, maybe Shimegiwa didn’t think the ‘Lamp of the Destitute’ was as dangerous as Hotsure-chan did. Me? What would I do, huh… I wonder. There’s an answer I could give you, but I don’t think it’s all that important in the current situation. After all, isn’t it up to second-generation Doctor Kitsuregawa, Hotsure-chan, to decide in the end? It’s hard for me to butt in. Or is your commission actually for me to determine whether this research is in the right or not? I’m not your professor, you know.

“Of course not. I am not trying to force the responsibility onto you. All responsibilities are mine, not simply the duty of explanation. As his second generation, I have undertaken that much from Doctor Kitsuregawa. It is only that… I am not as decisive as he was.”

Or maybe, you can’t get rid of that little thorn in your heart. Well, it was downright miraculous that the first-generation Doctor Kitsuregawa maintained his mental balance at all, so asking his second generation to come to the same decision, the exact same decision as he would have made, would be a pretty unreasonable demand. …If you have doubts, you have the option to abandon the research, don’t you? This was a question I didn’t need to ask, but as someone undertaking a job, it’s a question I wanted to ask anyway—I wanted to hear the answer from Hotsure-chan’s mouth. I wanted to hear her response. If you truly believe that the creation of this new life is bad news, then you should take your senses of ethics and crisis avoidance and smash that flask to pieces, no? If it’s just a candle in the wind.

“…That is something… I do not think… I am able to do.”

It was not an instantaneous answer, nor was it an assertive one—but, it was an answer with a firmness of will. However, it was not for the reasons I expected, like ‘this is the destiny of a scientist,’ or ‘even if it’s dangerous, I can’t discard such valuable research,’ or ‘I can’t let the efforts of first-generation Doctor Kitsuregawa go to waste.’

“Because—to take its life would just be too cruel, wouldn’t it?”

[honey-hippie-harper]

through the bleeding shell (Re-upload)

This was @obsidianfr3sk ‘s Feel Better gift asfghadsfghadfsghja. It turned out to be pretty depressing in the end bc idk how to write happy stuff but my good intentions were there, ok?

This is a Humon/Renegays fic :’). Which, basically, is about how the Renegays didn’t kiss during the trilogy...sort of. I can’t think of an specific reason why they didn’t besides bad writing and queerbaiting, but I’ve always seen Hugh as this...detached entity. Idk x’d. He shows a pretty dense attitude. And so, I thought that it was partly the reason why they’re not that affective during the trilogy. Not that they aren’t on a daily basis. I just think their relationship was in a bad place when the events happened, because, among other things, Hugh wasn’t grieving Georgia in a healthy way (I headcanon them as best friends </3) and wouldn’t allow Simon to help him. 

idk why I felt the need to talk about that.

tag list (tell me if you want to be in or out): @healing-winston-pratt @obsidianfr3sk @nodrianbcyes @alecjamesartino @everyone-has-a-nightmare @razzmooncake

through the bleeding shell

Being around someone for so long…

It allowed you to know things. Some of them important.

Others, not so much.

Simon had married a person he had been around his entire life; he had slept next to him almost every single day since he was very young. And his name was Hugh Everhart.

Simon knew every spot on Hugh’s body; he knew every mole, every random sun freckle here and there; how his body mass seemed to be well-distributed at plain sight but, in reality, his chest was naturally wider than the rest of his body, as if he had been born with the figure of a baseball player; how he scratched his nose because wrinkling it so much while laughing made it itchy; he knew the way his knuckles turned yellow when he turned them into a fist; he knew there was one single scar below his rib cage area…

He knew everything he had to know about Hugh Everhart, his husband, whom he loved so much that sometimes it hurt.

Yet, Simon was yet to know how and why, lately, he was so cold, despite still being a human furnace who was sometimes annoyed by the blanket on winter nights.

Kasumi frowned, and Simon wished she were misunderstanding, but whatever thing she was thinking, she was probably right.

Cold was a pretty wide term, which could basically mean anything. Being brutally honest, not even he knew what he was trying to convey by using that word, so he supposed he was referring to anything it could express, as a whole.

Thinking about it… yeah.

That option sounded about right.

Another thing that sounded about right, was the idea of Kasumi judging him because of it, which was something Simon knew wasn’t true and, instead, it was just his anxiety trying to ruin his day even more. But sometimes things were like that. He tried to avoid it, but never managed to do such thing. Ever.

“Not to be rude or anything.” She started, but before proceeding she seemed to realize that, maybe, that hadn’t sounded as intended, and her cheeks became extremely flushed, until Kasumi looked like she had ran under the burning sun while wearing a wool sweater for hours. “Really, Si. I don’t mean to be rude. As in...I’m...telling you this...so you think…”

She clicked her tongue, and then both Tamaya, who was also in the room, and him, stared at her as she talked to herself under her breath, making a couple of hand movements, as if she were writing her sentence in the air so she could phrase it correctly.

Sometimes, when Kasumi was nervous, she tended to struggle at putting her ideas together in a gentle, polite manner.

“...I was telling you that, so you don’t think I’m trying to offend you or minimize your pain.” She corrected herself. “Yeah?”

“...Yeah.” Simon nodded.

“Well…” Kasumi rubbed her hands together, more as a distraction than as an actual mannerism. “You know I’ve...never understood. Back at home...when we all lived together and...ugh. You know? Just...don’t mind me. Tam, you tell him.”

“No, no. What you’re saying is important too.”

“I want to listen to you, Zoomie.”

Upon the two pairs of eyes in the room being fixated on her, Kasumi kept fidgeting with the paper cone she now had between her hands, absently.

“Fine.” She whispered in a breathy voice, and then she stared at Simon, who stared back, not because he wanted to be polite or something like that, but because he genuinely wanted to listen to her.

Kasumi wasn’t a talker. That wasn’t an exaggeration or an act of fake modesty. It was just that Kasumi didn’t enjoy a lot of things, and one of them was speaking, to the point where sometimes she didn’t consider it necessary. There were days when she just...didn’t feel like speaking. And she didn’t. Because she didn’t want to. Because she didn’t need to. Because people could understand her anyway.

Still, everyone was willing to listen when she felt there was something she had to explain in a way that was verbal.

“I love my husband very much.” She said, placing a lock of hair behind her ear. “But, still, sex it’s not...a huge part of our relationship because I’ve never understood. When you joked about it back at home, I would just assume you were just doing that. Joking. I...literally didn’t expect you were serious when you talked about experiencing that type of attraction. Because I didn’t. And it’s not that I think it’s repulsive or anything like that. I just don’t get what the fuss is about. When I’m with him...it’s...usually not my first option. To think about that, I mean. And he understands and respects that, which I appreciate a lot.”

The more she spoke, the more confident her tone became. It meant she was growing more comfortable with the conversation, and that her train of thought was getting itself together, nice and slowly.

As for Simon...he was strangely comfortable, too, because this felt like a mature, adult conversation to him. Like a safe space.

After all, he was serious when he told them he needed to talk (now that Evander wasn’t here, because Evander was...not very sensitive). Hence, he was very glad they were being serious about it too.

“I understand that Hugh’s not in the spectrum.” Kasumi cleared her throat. “But...sexuality is fluid. Maybe, if you were talking about only that, it could be a good idea to talk it over. Only if he wants to, of course, because you never know; again, we can’t just assume, because one cannot do that. It’s rude. But what I mean...it’s that, whatever that’s going on in his head, maybe he’s trying to figure it out by himself. It might have nothing to do with his sexuality at all, actually, because, after all, that was just a comment...but it all comes back to the same point. Maybe he just...needs time.”

“Hugh’s pretty dense, Simon.” Simon saw the steamy cup in front of him, but he didn’t realize what it was until the smell of black coffee reached his nostrils. He hadn’t even noticed Tamaya was making coffee.

“Thank you.” He whispered anyway, as Tamaya leaned against the table, putting her weight on her elbows.

For all he knew, and all he cared about, it was pretty easy for people to judge Tamaya and label her as a bad person; she was quiet, although not in the way Kasumi was. On the contrary, she was rather serious, and her resting face was more intimidating than it was warm or welcoming. She was also really bad at controlling her temper, which didn’t help at all, but she wasn’t as bad as people wanted to portray her, or as bad as the recruits talked about her in the halls. Because, when it came to the recruits, Tamaya was strict, yes.

But somebody had to be, because being a Renegade was not a game, and the great majority of the advice she gave was extremely useful and clever.

Tamaya was caring.

Deep, very deep down. But she was.

“He’s pretty dense, but…” She sighed. “Most of the time, that’s not his fault. It’s not a good thing either. It’s not healthy for him and we shouldn’t condone it...but yeah. He can be pretty dense sometimes. He’s like that, most of the time it’s not his fault but...I don’t think you should feel like it’s yours either.”

Simon couldn’t help but flinch a little.

The thing was...he knew that.

It might’ve sounded crazy coming from him, but he knew it wasn’t his fault, even if his anxiety was determined to convince him otherwise.

Also, he was one to know that one couldn’t just fix a person. That’s not how mental health worked; of course, a romantic relationship or a relationship of any kind was a huge source of support and stability, but he knew it wasn’t enough to “heal” a person.

He knew about that, just like he knew that Hugh loved him and he loved Hugh, but that didn’t mean they could fix each other. They could make it a little better, yes; hold each other when things were rough; let the other know they weren’t alone.

But…”fixing” the other.

Not really.

They were humans.

They were people.

And the only thing people could fix, were objects, not other people.

“Like Kasumi said, sexuality is fluid, but it might as well not have to do anything with that.” Tamaya continued. Her voice sounded...soothing, strangely motherly. And she was calm.

Very calm.

It reminded Simon of someone.

They both reminded him of someone.

“Hubby and I, we both experience sexual attraction. It’s an important part of our relationship, and we enjoy it, but sometimes it’s just not the right time. He’s a doctor, I’m a Renegade Council member, and we have three wonderful boys together. Sometimes we don’t have time, so we just sit by the balcony to stargaze, holding hands, or we go out on dates like high school sweethearts, and I stand by the doorframe waiting for him to tell me I look pretty.”

Simon laughed a little.

It was evident she was trying to play it off as something dumb, but he found it absolutely adorable.

“And sometimes I’m too tired or he’s too tired, and that’s normal. It’s not our fault, and it doesn’t mean that we love each other less because…”

“Having sex doesn’t define love.” Kasumi said, and Tamaya nodded.

“Exactly.”

But again.

Again.

Simon knew that.

He really knew.

Hugh and him had busy schedules too. They both were Renegade Council members, and Hugh had it worse because not only was he a member, but also the leader of the Council. He had to be everywhere, at the same time, and people tended to think that just because he was invincible, it meant he didn’t have the right to feel emotionally drained, or at least tired.

Of course he was going to be tired.

He wasn’t a robot.

Hence, Simon understood what they were trying to say, and he agreed with Kasumi and Tamaya.

But the problem was…

He wasn’t referring just to that.

It was...part of the problem, yes.

But now that he knew their opinion about it, he had come to the realization that he still felt...empty and lost. And just...frustrated.

“We’re not only talking about sex, are we?” Tamaya asked carefully, and Simon refused to stare back at her, as he took a sip from his coffee, before answering:

“I’m afraid not.”

“Well...If you’re telling us this, it’s because you do want to talk about it, right?”

“I do. Yes.”

“Well. We’re listening.”

At the same time Tamaya spoke, a cold, little hand, laced between Simon’s.

A hand that felt like the sea and, even if he hadn’t known she was the only person in the room besides Tamaya and him, he would’ve recognized it as Kasumi’s.

So Simon squeezed her hand back.

“We’re listening, Si.” She confirmed. “We’re here for you.”

He knew that, and it was something he was extremely grateful about.

Now he just had to figure out how to put into words what he was feeling, because at this point it felt impossible for him to know.

There were just...so many things, but at the same time such a limited number of details he could recall.

It just felt...unreal.

And weird.

Very weird.

But Simon didn’t feel numb, unlike anyone would’ve expected from him.

In fact, he felt so sad he couldn’t even cry.

And it was the worst feeling ever.

“I don’t know.” He said, in a hoarse voice. “I just...don’t know anymore. It’s just...I…”

“It’s not your fault.”

“I know.” He clarified. “...But maybe that’s why I don’t know what it is.”

For the shortest second, Simon came to the realization he was talking to himself instead of talking to them, or perhaps it was something that, deep down, was giving him the answer to why this whole situation was making him so uneasy and upset. Like, of course it was making him this upset. It was his husband they were talking about. Hugh was his fight. Hugh was…

Simon didn’t know.

But what he did know was that, maybe, it had nothing to do with himself, and that’s why he just couldn’t…

He just couldn’t understand.

Why couldn’t he understand?

Why did it have to be like this?

“I want to know what it is.” Simon took a deep breath, trying to make himself understood; trying to make them understand what he couldn’t. “...So I can...make it better...So I can...help him. So we can...look for help together.”

Simon scratched his brow with his free hand.

“But he’s just… so cold. He doesn’t talk to me. He doesn’t come closer. He doesn’t...do anything. We don’t do anything. And I can’t help but feel like...he’s not here, even though he’s…” Simon scoffed, painfully. “...He’s right there, in front of my face.”

His eyes became fixated on a blank point, as if he were staring at an invisible Hugh, who wasn’t staring back at him.

“And I want him to...tell me. Because if he doesn’t tell me, then I have no way to know what’s wrong. And if I don’t know what’s wrong...then I don’t know for how long I can take it, you know? It’s just...I can’t bear to stand there as he pushes me away.”

Kasumi started running her thumb through his knuckles, and Simon felt Tamaya’s hands on his shoulders, massaging them, gently.

“I’m just scared...that when he finally wants me to come closer again, it might be too late...and maybe I won’t want to come closer again.”

Tamaya’s hands stopped moving for a moment, and Simon could almost feel her and Kasumi’s shock. He hadn’t even planned to say that. It just slipped.

And when Simon noticed it had slipped, it was far too late for him to hold it back.

“Maybe you should talk to him, after all.” Kasumi said, slowly, and Simon stared into her eyes.

He didn’t realize that was the thing he didn’t want to hear until he felt nothing but hopelessness.

Emptiness.

Fear.

A type of fear that became more intense in the moment they heard the door opening, and that’s when Simon saw him.

Hugh was standing right there, staring, and when his eyes laid on Simon, he arched an eyebrow, looking genuinely confused and worried.

“What’s happening here?” He asked. “...Si? Are you okay?”

Are you?

Simon didn’t want to answer. He really didn’t.

He didn’t want this to be about him.

He didn’t want Hugh asking him what was wrong if, harsh as it sounded, everything that was making him uncomfortable or upset had to do with him, not because Simon was blaming him, but because he was genuinely worried.

Let me help, Hugh.

“I’m...fine.”

Let me in.

“...Yeah. I’m...fine.”

Please, love.

Let me in.

Simon could see him hurting, but where he saw hurt, Hugh saw some type of burden that was meant to be concealed, committing treason against his own advice; dodging the sound of the voice of a younger Hugh, who guided a younger Simon through the dark, telling him it was alright.

That pain was alright.

And that pain didn’t make him less human.

Hugh’s pain, in particular, was a grey, bleeding shell that was so thick Simon couldn’t find a way to get in, and Hugh couldn’t find a way to get out.

So they just pressed their palms together through the bleeding shell, staring at each other's eyes through a polarized surface, that stopped their skin from touching, and stopped their lips from finding the other.

And the worst thing...was that Simon was craving that. He craved Hugh’s lips. He craved everything physical about him, just like he craved everything that wasn’t physical too. And he craved him so much he felt like dying every time he was close. He craved him so much it made him feel like a teenager again.

Which, in his case, wasn’t a good thing.

He wished it was.

But...teenage years weren’t fun if you had to spend them trapped in a closet. Things were never good when lived from inside a closet.

He didn’t want his life outside that closet to be like that too.

“Did you have an attack? ...Si, did you take your pills? … You did, right?”

“Hugh.” Simon heard Tamaya’s voice. “Is there...something that you needed?”

Hugh blinked, knowing that, maybe, he had interrupted something.

Mostly because it wasn’t like Tamaya was trying to hide it either.

“...Yeah.” He said, resting his arms on the nearest chair.

Tamaya pulled away from Simon, and Kasumi let go of his hand. They didn’t become fully focused, nor did they put on their “I’m working” mode either, but they did manage to...pretend. Even Simon managed to do so.

“Uh...I…” Hugh snapped his fingers in front of his own face, trying to remember what was it that he had to say.

“....Yeah.” He concluded. “Yeah. Uh… Tam. I need you to head downtown because they want you to supervise some of the floats for the parade. From...up, I mean. So you can check some of the details. I already checked from the ground and everything’s looking good, but now they want you to give them the green light.”

“Right now?”

“Preferably.” Hugh scratched his nose. “Were you...in the middle of something?”

Tamaya filled her cheeks with air, and then let it out, making a little trumpet with her lips.

“No.” She lied. “It’s fine. I’ll go. Just let me put some stuff in my locker, alright?”

“Be careful when you fly, okay? It’s kinda hot outside. If you get dizzy...”

“If I get dizzy, I’ll land. I know. I’m the one who’s flying.”  

Given that she was already heading by the door, Tamaya patted his shoulder, and they said goodbye with a very polite kiss on the cheek, before Tamaya left the room completely, and Hugh drew his attention towards Kasumi.

“Margaret White is acting out.”

Kasumi frowned. Deeply.

“Margaret...what?”

“Uh. White? You know? The Renegades’ ward? The kid?”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know who Maggie is.” Kasumi waved her hands in front of her own face. “...Who named her that?”

“Who named her what?”

“White. Who on Earth…?” Kasumi clicked her tongue. “Nevermind, okay? Just...what did she do?”

“Zoomie, I had already told you.” Hugh laughed, confused.

“I thought you were being rude, Hugh.”

Margaret White was the Renegades’ protégé. Her powers consisted of detecting and attracting metals which, evidently, was not something that was out of this world. In fact, she had been recruited at such a young age not because she had extraordinary abilities, but because she was problematic as heck.

She was Max’s age, more or less but, unlike Max, Margaret had no chill.

Her life was ruined from the moment somebody saw her and decided that White was a suitable last name for her, Tamaya used to say.

Margaret’s skin was tan, and she had slanted eyes. Naming her “White” almost seemed like a tasteless joke.

Simon himself thought Hugh was just being disrespectful the first time he told him her name, and he had to hear it a couple of times before he just...accepted he was serious (and that Hugh himself didn’t seem to like the idea of her being named like that very much).

Maggie was really problematic. For real. She had been kicked out of a couple of orphanages already, and maybe she would have been kicked out of this one too, if it hadn’t been a prodigy orphanage, which happened to be under Kasumi’s management, meaning it was directly related to the Council. And they were supposed to make sure nobody got kicked out of there.

Simon liked Maggie, because he knew that there was a chance that everything she ever did had reason behind it. An emotional reason. Perhaps she wanted love. Perhaps she wanted attention.

Perhaps she just…

Wanted someone who didn’t give up on her at the minimum inconvenience.

So he just...tried not to.

Hard as it was, because Maggie tended to make it hard; Kasumi had tried to canalize her to a psychologist many times, but her response always was that “she wasn’t crazy” (perhaps because kids her age were mean and “crazy” was one of their favorite words to use as an insult) and...well...part of the process in children, was understanding when it was the right time and when it wasn’t.

Sometimes forcing kids into treatment made it worse, and Maggie was pretty mature for her age, while painfully childish at the same time. Respecting her space and giving her time was their only option, if they didn’t want to turn her into a ticking bomb.

“Are you for real? I’ve been addressing her like that for like…”

“Just tell me what the little bundle of joy did now.”

“Pff.” Hugh scoffed. “Bundle of joy.”

Then, he cleared his throat the moment Kasumi fixed a glare at him.

“Well...the usual. She stole something from one of the nannies, Carrietta Ferland saw her and she locked her in a cellar so she wouldn’t say anything.”

“She locked Carrietta Ferland in a cellar.” Kasumi rubbed her forehead, and before she left the meeting room, she squeezed Simon’s wrist.

She didn’t say goodbye to Hugh.

Simon didn’t, either, when he excused himself under the sort of cheap white lie he needed to wash his face.

-.-

But one could only wash their face so much, before their partner suspected.

When Simon didn’t come back, Hugh didn’t go after him. He never did at first.

As in…

Hugh always went after him, just not at first; over time, Simon had grown to accept it wasn’t a pride thing.

When Hugh left, he never wanted anyone to go after him, and he was the type to believe that just because he didn’t want something, it meant nobody wanted it; Simon had gotten used to it, because Hugh was his husband, and they accepted each other just like they were.

What Simon refused to accept, was the bleeding shell Hugh was inside of.

He hated it.

He despised it, especially at night. It would grow around Hugh in slow motion, and then he would bleed through, and the whole room would turn red, overflowing it with unspoken, suffocated anger and pain.

Hugh turned his back at Simon that night, so Simon turned his back at him too, not because he was mad, but because he didn’t feel like staring at Hugh’s back today.

Their room became as cold as an industrial fridge, as they both fell deep into the notion the other was not asleep, and that they both were listening to the sound of a room that was currently filled with deathly silence.

Deathly as the bone-chilling cold penetrating their limbs, their organs, and their everything.

Deathly as…

Deathly as feelings.

All the stored feelings, and the way Simon craved something he knew was right there.

Hugh was right there. Right next to him. And his body, which he knew so well, was laying next to him, turning his back at him, with every mole, every sun freckle, a chest wider than the rest of his body…

And one single scar below his rib cage.

The same rib cage that protected his heart.

Say something, Simon.

The same heart Simon had felt beating so many times.

Say something.

Anything.

Maybe…

Maybe this had a reason too.

An emotional reason.

Perhaps love. Or attention.

Say something. Anything.

Because you do go after people from the very first moment.

Slowly, as if he had never moved before in his life, Simon rolled to the other side, and as his trembling hand rested on Hugh’s arm, he became alert, awake as they both were, and he looked over his shoulder.

“Hugh?” Simon asked, the name leaving a familiar firm in his mouth that tasted like home.

He didn’t answer, because that was his name. Hence, he knew he was trying to talk to him.

“Come here, Hugh.”

And Hugh came over, hesitantly, rolling to his side too, as they faced each other, and Simon ran his finger through his face, just...exploring every spot he already knew, as if he were visiting his comfort place, of his favorite bench in the park.

His blue eyes seemed to shine in the darkness, and Simon felt he could’ve gotten lost in them and never come back.

But he didn’t get lost.

Because he had to find the love of his life first.

“I’m never giving up on you.” He whispered. “...you know that, right?”

Perhaps he didn’t.

But, on the other hand, perhaps he did. And Simon was left with nothing but the mere hope it had meant something.

“I’m never giving up on you either, Si.”

But Simon did know that.

Boy.

Did he know.

-.-

What he didn’t know, however, was the answer to the what.

He wondered what that had felt like.

He wondered what Nightmare had felt when, the morning after, she tried to shoot Hugh in the eye from a roof.

Not because he were mad at her.

No. Not really.

She was young after all.

He just wondered what she had felt.

[strangebrews]

tea for two

Summary:  After nearly two hours of preparation, Alfie was finally ready. The table was set, the tea was brewed, and the poison watched at the end of the counter. That was Alfie’s source of entertainment. // Alfie engages in tea party Russian roulette that he himself organized. Tommy, eventually, reacts.

Notes: i had a tiny idea regarding alfie organizing lethal tea parties for funsies a while back, and it became this. also thank you to @sholomons + @those-peakyboys for reading bits of this as a sanity check <3

Warnings: Suicidal Ideation/Suicide Scare/Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms/ - those are the main ones, but if you think there should be more let me know. The rest of them can be found on the AO3 post. I promise this isn’t some devastating ending though, lmao, technically is supposed to be //romantic// in a twisted Tommy Shelby way.

On AO3

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

Alfie indulged in the art of organizing tea parties later in life, once the crime became routine and uninspiring.

The idea came to him one afternoon, while thumbing through the day’s post. He was struck by a revelation, of sorts, “yeah, because when I went to pick up my cup, right,” he had described the moment to Tommy in detail, “I noticed that there, at the very bottom where the tea leaves floated—there was a message.” His eyes had narrowed, voice low, fingers motioning in the air trying to conjure up the image, “and you know what they were saying to me, those leaves, Tommy—they were saying Alfie, you have got to stop hanging around that Shelby—his witchcraft and madness are starting to rub off on you ” he’d cackled then, which meant the origins would remain unexplained. 

Alfie did, however, commit himself to the task. 

He decided the event would take place in his dining room, using the hand-carved table featured there. Tommy watched him prepare from afar the day of the first tea party. He did not endorse the fucking behavior, but he was curious—it was rare to see Solomons fuss over plate placements.

A frilly tablecloth was dug out from the back of a cupboard, and freshly picked flowers decorated the middle. Alfie used his best porcelain set—the one he claimed was the last heirloom still in his possession from the mother’s side of his family. That bit was a lie, he had admitted to Tommy one day. Instead, he had Ollie scavenge it from some shop window with a sock over his head and tears in his eyes—but that tale was far less interesting. And the foundational role of any host, Alfie knew, was to entertain his esteemed guests.

Tiny silver spoons—ones which nearly disappeared in Alfie’s hand—lay atop carefully folded napkins. He drew the shades, and arranged the biscuits, lips pursed in concentration. The scene looked quite pretty, actually. Meticulously organized—an unexpected detail coming from Alfie Solomons. 

And after nearly two hours of preparation, Alfie was finally ready. The table was set, the tea was brewed, and the poison watched at the end of the counter. 

That was Alfie’s source of entertainment. 

  +++

  His guests were an array of different people. Old friends, new enemies, long standing members of his payroll, a few of the fanciest individuals he knew—each person with some form of stain on their record, at some point having wronged him. Alfie was not entirely cruel. 

“It’ll be a shame,” he had said, “but everyone dies at some point, yeah?”

The trick about the poison was that it took a while to pollute the veins. Alfie had considered this detail as thoughtfully as he had the decorations—determined to avoid frothing mouths from ruining the appeal of his parties. The winners would appear fine until the next morning, so the poison was untraceable in both taste and source. 

For a while, at least. Though even if the pieces were eventually slotted together—who would be brave enough to accuse an aging man of serving tea?

“It just might be genius, Tommy.” Alfie had lifted the vial towards him, eyes glazed over with self-admiration. Going after him would look ridiculous, Alfie knew this. Tommy knew this, and he smiled besides himself. Perhaps it was.

And as any good host, Alfie partook in the activity himself—an equal player in the game. A few clear drops coated the bottom of a cup, the cups were mixed up, the location was forgotten.

The fact that Alfie had grown desensitized towards his own death was no shock—he and Tommy shared the same indifference. Though what Tommy struggled to understand was his sudden interest in openly pursuing it. 

Though, didn’t they do that already? Alfie had asked. Their years brimmed with pacts, vindictive partners, with mouthing off to men whose fingers trembled against triggers. They had never run in the opposite direction of death, rather alongside it—the place where their paths would converge had always been just along the horizon. Alfie’s behavior was nothing but a variation of that.

“More creative.” he had claimed—better than being killed by a gun or a knife, “Or by a blade sewn into a fucking hat. Imagine that.” he smirked. It was only funny because they were past killing each other now—Alfie had beaten Tommy to the initiative.

+++

  Of course, the cordial invitation had been extended to Tommy Shelby as well.

“And how have I wronged you?” Tommy had asked. Alfie laughed, promising it would be a clean cup, but Tommy refused regardless. The whole matter was much too dramatic for his taste.

He would stay the night of the tea party, though—was due for a fuck, anyway. 

-

In truth, Tommy had been staying the night more frequently. 

It was Alfie who had initially offered to move the location of their meetings . The official reason he’d cited was for more security, but Tommy had seen him holding his back in pain each time he’d stepped out of the office. 

Fucking in a bed, as opposed to on a desk, toed the line with an intimacy Tommy was cautious about crossing, but the suggestion was too enticing to refuse—aging had not been doing either of them any favors. And because it was Alfie who had made the proposal, Tommy still had room to cut himself free of any strings attached.

The routine had continued as usual at first—business, fuck, leave. Tommy would gather his clothes frantically afterwards, hopping out the door with only one sock on. He was terrified of the implications staying longer would have—the consequences it could bring.

Though that chaos eventually transitioned into a slower collection of his belongings—fatigue and the haze of his orgasm tethering him to the bed. He stayed for longer, counted the cracks in Alfie’s ceiling and the number of stripes on his sheets. These extra moments seemed progressively less threatening. 

“Are you truly that desperate to return to that lonely fucking castle of yours, mate?” The question came months later, while Tommy sat on the side of the bed, rubbing the stiffness from his legs. He was startled by the voice—Alfie tended to slip into a slumber nearly immediately after they’d pulled away from each other. 

Lonely castle. It sounded worse when phrased that way. A kingdom crafted at the expense of everyone around him. Pitiful.

Tommy had not entertained Alfie with an answer, but still chose to lay back down—comforted by the idea of a few more hours of sleep. He left the next day wordlessly, and sleeping over became routine. The castle would still be standing in the morning.

Yet that change didn’t mean anything, Tommy reasoned. Whether he permitted himself to stay or not, it was still just fucking —nothing more complicated than that. 

So perhaps it’d be a shame if Alfie finally won one of his rounds, Tommy thought the evening of that first tea party—his business would be missed. But he remained, on the whole, unbothered by it.

Everyone died at some point.

+++

  Each chair was occupied with an esteemed guest the first time. They were all impressed by the sudden burst of hospitality—thankful for Alfie’s unspoken forgiveness of their past transgressions against him. 

Assumption was quite lethal. 

Meaningless chatter swelled the air in the room, shrill laughter echoing off of the walls. Alfie floated from place to place, offering stories and more food, savoring each one of his sips.  He chuckled often, rolled his eyes on cue, and held his pinky up.

It was a performance, yet no one in attendance was aware they were a part of the show. 

He caught their attention in particular with a story from before the war. Something to do with a stray dog, an appalled mother and a wet carpet—certain elements of which were exaggerated. “Oh Alfie!” he’d felt a small pat on his shoulder, a gesture which in any other circumstances would have earned the person a cut on the cheek, but Alfie simply smiled and patted back. It could be you . 

Alfie found excitement in it all—an ironic strengthening of the energy which had been slowly draining from his body. 

It was nearly enough to forget about the cancer.

-

Cancer could have been considered a motive—it was the letter from the doctor speculating about his expiration date which had sparked the inspiration for the tea party business. Though Alfie didn’t like to dwell on that coincidence. Much rather preferred to keep the reason as Alfie’s sudden burst of twisted thrill-seeking . Not that anyone would know about the sickness, regardless—Thomas Shelby included. He fully intended to live out these days undisturbed by sympathy.

He came to bed that night with cheeks flushed and things to say. Granted, Alfie always had a mouth full of words, but they were stories this time—things he’d seen and heard. Tommy had propped himself up against the headrest, pulling on cigarette after cigarette, feigning disinterest. 

A cousin of the Sabini’s had brought Alfie a bottle of wine, he learned. There had been a bit of tea spilling on the carpet sometime in the middle, though it had occurred after a refill, Alfie reassured. Nearly everyone offered some comment about the design on the porcelain, sniffed the flowers, and claimed they had enjoyed themselves in the doorway.

“Silly little puppets, yeah—every last one.” Alfie had laughed and blown the candle on the nightstand out. It was nice, actually, being able to share this bit of secrecy with Tommy. An outlet, of sorts, and it helped that Alfie did not have to truly explain himself to him. 

It was the first night Tommy stayed which did not involve fucking.

+++

Tommy continued accepting the invitations to be an invisible guest. 

Unsurprisingly, one party had not been enough to satiate Alfie’s newfound appetite for this version of Russian roulette and finger sandwiches, so he kept organizing them. It tended to be the same crowd each time, with a few new faces here and there—replacements for any vacant seats. 

Alfie gradually grew fancier—a nicer tablecloth, more biscuits, a larger array of tea. He had different stories to tell, new rings to show off and even Ollie had grown quite fond of the flower picking aspect of his job, asking a few days in advance if he had any preferences. 

Alfie collapsed beside Tommy after the fifth party, exhausted and unwilling to relay the night’s events. It wasn’t necessarily healthy for his back, Tommy had mused—all those hours of wandering around the room, hunched over chairs—but his mouth stayed shut, and they fell asleep in silence. 

-

Even after nights when his insomnia had been generous, Tommy woke first. 

Alfie breathed beside him.

It was a relief, Tommy admitted—spared him the dramatics of having to drag Alfie out from between the sheets himself. He’d imagined that scenario once or twice while waiting on Alfie to stop his entertaining, considering what exactly he would do with Alfie’s body just—laying there. Notify the staff most likely, but he wasn’t quite sure what beyond that. Perhaps shake his hand, or pay his respects through a whispered congratulations , yet Alfie always managed to interrupt that train of thought before anything concrete was decided on. 

He was hesitant to leave the morning after the fifth night, oddly disappointed that Alfie had not shared any stories. It was an uncomfortable feeling, but he decided to wait until Alfie woke. There was time to spare, Tommy argued with himself, it was the weekend—as if that meant anything in this line of business. 

Idling in bed until the moment arrived was out of the question. Roaming his halls also seemed inappropriate—and risky, in case Ollie had let himself in. So Tommy settled on visiting the kitchen to eat. Attempt to, at least.

Preparing food provided only momentary relief from the fact that staying had been an absolutely idiotic idea. Tommy brewed some tea—for the irony, if anything else—and made toast. Some for him, some for Alfie, though he winced at the choice and threw Alfie’s portion in the bin. Too much.

He opened the morning paper. Squirmed in his chair. Checked the time. Returned to reading. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

Alfie eventually joined him in the kitchen, sleep still settled on his limbs. His hair was sticking up in uneven tufts, beard flattened on the side he’d been lying on. Nothing indicated he was surprised that Tommy had remained in the house.

“So you’re still here then, eh?” Tommy said, eyes on the news, but desperate to fill the silence.

Alfie only ran a heavy palm across his face. “Yeah, still fucking here.”

+++

  The parties remained successful and Alfie’s enthusiasm persisted. Guests streamed in week after week—whether out of fear or curiousity was unclear. It was quite unusual to be in Alfie Solomon’s presence within an unthreatening environment, but they seemed to appreciate his change in character. 

And the tea was always delicious. 

It was Tommy who suffered the change in opinion, pacing the bedroom with a clenched jaw.  He had certain ideas—to make an appearance, peek through keyholes or press his ear to the door, to somehow interfere—but he cast them all aside.

Time alone had never been healthy for him. Funny, for a man who ensured his own abandonment.

-

 Nervous. The word finally rose above all of the other thoughts at one point and settled bitterly on his tongue. Tommy was nervous. 

“Aren’t you fucking bored of this yet, Alfie?” he asked as casually as possible, in between pulls of his cigarette, but Alfie had shook his head.

“I should have done this sooner.” he claimed, eyes dancing, and for some reason the sentence felt like a slap to the face.

Tommy did not fight back. 

+++

Alfie retired earlier than usual one night, reasoned it was due to a headache. Tommy bit down on his lip to prevent any visible reaction.

He slipped under the covers, hand searching for the band of Tommy’s pants —ar ousal had always reigned above pain for Alfie —but Tommy swatted it away, ignoring the slight tenting. “Not today, Alfie.”

Alfie grunted. It was not necessarily unusual for Tommy to refuse him, though Tommy’s face was flushed, teeth gnawing at the inner flesh of his cheek. There was still potential in the moment.

“But Tommy,” he whispered, sliding up against him, lips grazing Tommy’s neck and fingers playing at his hip. “I may be dead tomorrow.” and he placed a firm kiss to his Adam’s apple. It was only meant to be a teasing remark —nothing more than Alfie’s greedy attempt at extracting a fuck out of the other man—but the words wrapped themselves around Tommy’s throat.

Tommy snatched Alfie by the hair, tearing him away from his skin. Their eyes met, Alfie squirming besides himself under the cold stare. “You might be dead tomorrow.” Tommy repeated, nodding in agreement. Out of reach . 

And he kissed him.

Once. Twice. Grip slowly loosening, hips finally shifting into Alfie’s touch. His hand remained in the hair, the other one snaking around Alfie’s waist, clothes being peeled off feverishly. Alfie’s efforts proved successful.

They fucked that night to the brink of exhaustion, wrapped in the darkness, spent and gasping for air, and when Alfie pulled away, Tommy choked on a please echoing in his throat. 

It was a hollow plea—for something he was too terrified to admit.

+ ++

The following morning after he woke, Tommy lingered in bed.

Alfie snored facing him, rested on top of his left arm. Sleep softened him, Tommy noted—hid the pain behind his eyelids, smoothed the creases from his forehead. He reached out hesitantly to run the backs of his fingers across Alfie’s shoulder, along the shell of his ear, his jaw, tugging down the covers to find his thighs. It was a peaceful moment—rare and terminal—and Tommy was suddenly gripped by an urge to memorize it. Drink in every detail. 

Tommy took advantage of the safety unconsciousness had provided him and settled back down, shifting closer to Alfie’s body—close enough so that the tips of their noses were brushing against one another. He lay still, soaking in the warmth of Alfie’s exhales, and tried to align their breathing. 

The task proved to be more challenging than expected. Tommy stumbled over his own inhales, yet Alfie continued to be one breath ahead of him. Inhale. Exhale . Out of sync. And it was a silly effort, naive and trivial, but Tommy’s heart still hammered at his ribcage in frustration. Because there had to be something there , in the alignment. Some kind of meaning, a mutual understanding shared between their bodies. A form of reassurance. A sign of togetherness —that Tommy was not fucking mad for wanting to share these breaths with Alfie for longer than the bastard had planned for himself.

But each attempt sputtered and failed.

He slammed his fist into the mattress and rolled off the bed, waking Alfie in the process.

-

The toast was burnt that morning. 

No tea— fuck tea. 

Alfie walked into the kitchen, rubbed a palm across his face instinctively. The regular question never arrived, but he answered its ghost regardless. “Still here.”

Yes , Tommy thought, miraculous . 

He left for Birmingham immediately after breakfast, and abandoned his tendency of visiting Alfie in between the special occasions. He would know when the next party would be—the invitation would arrive in the post a few days before it.

+++

A week later, there were only 16 people in attendance, two couples were missing. Whether they had grown suspicious or were dead was left unclarified—Alfie was only interested in one outcome. 

The event proceeded as usual: eat, laugh, sip, Alfie refilling his cup more frequently than usual. Nobody questioned the absence. It was normal.  

And then it was not, because Tommy Shelby walked into the room — eyes bloodshot, scanning the scene. 

There was a 1 in 16 chance that Alfie poisoned himself today, Tommy noted, but he had endured this night after night and he found he’d grown quite bored of the adrenaline. The uncertainty. So he took a stand at the head of the table this time around, his hand hidden behind his coat.

It was meant to be a distraction, perhaps a form of confession —anything to get Alfie to stop these fucking games. Whispers swept the room, mouths parted in surprise—it was a rare occurrence, seeing Tommy Shelby in attendance—and Alfie sighed, because he knew, he fucking knew that Thomas was here to spoil the fun. 

The gun pointed to Tommy’s head, and Tommy’s head pointed towards Alfie.

“One,” 15 pairs of alarmed eyes stared at Tommy’s finger on the trigger. Only 1 pair glared back into his own. Alfie refused to set the teacup down.

“Have you gone fucking mad, mate?” Tommy had actually heard they called this love . 

“Two.” The guests were moving, tripping over chairs, rugs, each other, searching frantically for the exit. The taboo of witnessing a potential suicide outweighed their curiousity, it seemed. So easy to clear a room.  

The doors slammed shut, silence replacing the sound. It was empty now. Just him, and Alfie, and the gun, and the poison laughing out from one of the cups. 

“Three.” Bang.

Tommy’s body crumpled to the floor.

-

He was lying half underneath the table when Alfie finally walked over. His eyes were wide open. Unscathed.

Alfie snatched the gun from his hand, clicked open the cylinder. “Tommy, you know, you’re not fucking invited to the next one, yeah?” the first shot had been a blank, but there was a single bullet inside. “Right—on account of the fucking mess you’ve made here today.” 

“I’m well aware, Alfie.” he was tracing the pattern of the table’s wood with a shaky finger. Alfie grunted and tossed the gun aside. He collapsed awkwardly beside him, taking Tommy’s hand into his own. It would weather his joints even further, lying down here on the floor, Alfie was well aware, but this was the only act of affirmation which seemed appropriate. 

He did not ask about the bullet. He knew why it was there. Kept as a precaution—in case Alfie had decided to drink anyway. 

They breathed together. 

[dragonflymage]

tw-mentions of abuse

I contemplated answering this one a few times. I hesitated because I have a lot of gaps in my memory in relation to it.

My father has schizophrenia. As far as I know, he had it all through my life. The thing is while growing up I didn’t entirely understand that this is what was going on with him. I just thought he was who he was. On the medication, he was friendly, told funny stories, went to work, and lived a seemingly normal life.

The only instances I knew something wasn’t right was during the times he wouldn’t take his medication. Then he would be afraid of television commercials. He’d sometimes repeat phrases several times. He’d non-stop preach religion at me and my brother. And… the anger.

I recall a time when I was 7 or 8 when my family drove home from church. Something made him angry enough that he’d pull over the car and begin repeatedly punching the ceiling of the car above his head with his fist. Over and over. I sat behind him in the back seat watching this, thinking that all I wanted to do was open the car door and run down the road. But I was too afraid to move.

His anger was such that when I was 10, he would make me sort the clothes in my dresser again and again. If they weren’t folded and put away right, he’d take out the drawers and dump the clothes all over my bed, telling me to start again. One time I was so angry about this that I shouted “No!” at him. Big mistake. He slammed me against the wall, then took off his belt and hit me with it until I agreed to put the clothes away right.

When I was a teenager, my father would pick my brother and me up from school. Then he’d find a parking lot to pull off the road and begin his several-hour-long preaching sessions. All about sinners and how to prevent being a sinner. I used to internally panic, feeling self-conscious as other cars drove by. Wondering what they thought about us sitting in this empty parking lot. 

He did this so many times that I began zoning out. I mean, I seriously went someplace else in my head. I can’t describe the emotion I felt while that went on and I’m not certain what my brother did to get through it either. It’s so that now if someone starts lecturing at me, I automatically zone out.

When I was around age 12, my mother started telling me tales about my father. She used to say that sometimes he would become so angry that she had to hide my brother and me in a closet. She said that he used to run down the center of the street. And that he’d even run into a church with no clothes on. I don’t remember any of these things. I either blocked them out or they never happened.

When I was 16, he took me to the doctor to have me examined because he said he thought he had molested me. And he wanted to make sure he never had. That was so very embarrassing and I don’t know if my mother ever knew he took me for this exam, since they were divorced. He hadn’t, though he’d done other things like have me watch porn with him, but he hadn’t done anything enough that it showed on an exam. The doctor said I was fine. *so severely embarrassed*

I don’t know if that was because of the schizophrenia or something else. And it was difficult to know when to blame him for his behavior since he couldn’t always help it due to the illness.

My mother used his illness against me whenever I behaved in a way she didn’t like. If I ever was upset or what she called “exaggerating”, she’d say “you better be careful or you might end up sick like your father”. 😔

As a teenager, I researched everything I could on schizophrenia. Some books I read said that 50% of the children who had a schizophrenic parent would one day develop it themselves. There was my brother and there was me. Which one of us would get it? I was extremely paranoid within my own thoughts, always worried that if I thought too many strange things it might mean I would get it.

When I was 19, my brother began bringing me a book called Good Omens, saying that he wanted me to read it to him. He said that he thought it had a lot of truth in it, that it was very important. I’d thought it was a little odd since we were very close. People used to think we were twins even though there were a couple of years between us. So I read the book to him. 

His behavior started to change until one night he came to me in a panic. He was blowing air from his mouth like he was trying to blow something away from him. And he kept repeating “I’m disappearing… can you see me?”

My father and uncle were called and my brother was taken to a hospital where he was diagnosed with schizophrenia. At age 17. That was one of the hardest days I experienced. It felt like I was falling down a continual pit that would never end.

Eventually, my parents and I were able to visit my brother in the hospital. I brought him a cheeseburger, fries, and a strawberry shake every time I visited. It was so difficult to see him that way. He was… a different person. He’d ask me if the tree shadows on the neighboring building meant something.

During one visit I had to leave the room in order to cry in the hallway. A doctor came over to me and said a lot of encouraging and caring words to me. It was really the only time someone had stopped to even see me during that painful time. He thought I was the younger sister since I always looked younger than my age. I told him I was the older sister, that I was 19. He suddenly took everything back, changed his demeanor, and told me I needed to be strong for my brother. Then he walked away. 😞

Eventually, my brother came home, but not after several long months in the hospital, and a runaway attempt from the hospital where we had to go find him. He lives with my father now.

I know the question was about a schizophrenic parent, which I answered. But I have to quietly admit that sometimes I felt extremely angry at him. I feel like if he didn’t have schizophrenia, then my brother never would have had it either. I never developed it. I’m odd in other ways. Yet, even though so many years have passed by, deep down I still worry that one day it will creep up and envelop me. 💗

Thanks for the question. 😌

[liberace19]

Liberace, wearing a green brocade velvet evening suit with a rhinestone-studded , collar, moves elegantly and flamboyantly into the massive sitting room of his sumptuous Waldorf Towers suite. The famous toothy grin is a familiar greeting. Liberace's symbolic diamond jewelry is obviously a projection of his millionaire musician status. The oversized diamond candelabra ring, which lights up the knuckles, has shiny flames made of large blue-white diamonds. The face of the piano-shaped watch is entirely of diamonds. Rays of bright sunshine, like an accidental heavenly spotlight, flow into the room and focus on the sprawling gilt grand piano that dominates the room but not the man. Liberace, at 54, seemingly untouched by the steep rigors of time and pace, appears happily ensconsed in the jarring environmental opulence. All this super-showmanship is very natural, right? Wrong. "It's just a way of laughing at myself," says Liberace about t; - , ...... i 7. , i, i a k 'jn Z 'fA A 7 - ' "V ''A J Jf t ? ' $ i I4 ' C" ' . ; ' . b. ..i: y f i i t L. FLASHY - The fabled Liberace's fashions are matched only by the entertainer's the great put-on of being fashion's original peacock. "I'm all embroidery, brilliants, sparkle and fur. It startles people into a sense of amusement. I've adopted fashion in its most extreme exaggerations and made it part of my performance. It's outlandish I admit it. But I get my audience caught up in my world. First it's oh's, Then it's ah's. Then deafening applause. Liberace's stage clothes valued at $1 million are designed for him by an old movie lot . tailor, Frank Acuna, who created cinema clothes for Rudolf Valentino and Tyrone Power. Acuna has created everything from a red velvet tuxedo with knickers ($10,000 because the buttons are diamond studs) to a maxi length tiered ermine coat that's $35,000. Offstage, a semi-conservative Liberace wears clothes by Pierre Cardin or Bill Blass. They're usually bought off-the-rack. On his non-conformist style that brings fanfare: "In 1963 I tried to revert back to what might be called sensible onstage clothes," he says. "That year my income dropped by $800,000. My public felt it was being cheated. Not to see Liberace 'done-up' is like coming sparkling smile. across Marlene Dietrich in a baggy old housedress." Liberace, who uses only his last name as a performer, has just completed an atuobiogra-phy (G. P. Putman) under his own name, Waldziu (Walter) Liberace. It tells of his climb to the top despite tremendous odds. "All people really know about me is: I like fashion. I'm good to my mother.. I have a brother named George. I never play piano without candlebra," he says. "Look , I've faced death. I know what it is to be a failure. I come from a family where divorce is rampant. My beginnings were humble. I achieved this pinnacle by believing in myself. My book tells it all." Liberace's mother, now 81. is his life's inspiration. She has been near death several times in the last two years but has great recuperative powers born of an abiding faith. "I kid her that she's going to bury us all," says Liberace. Ten years ago Liberace had an acute kidney failure. He was given the last rites of the Catholic church. His mother prayed. Liberace baffled doctors by one of those overnight recoveries. "But I was resigned to dying," he says. "I faced it. What was the most emotionally disturbing thing was the pros- pect of having to start life over again. "At that point, money was scarce. But when I went back onstage, some sort of magic happened. My performances took on a depth they didn't have before. "Suddenly I was huppy really happy to be alive. People responded. It's miraculous. Now I work less, get more and enjoy it the most." Liberace, who earns $150,000 a week, has three antique-filled decorative villas two in Los Angeles and one in Palm Springs. Liberace who won a libel suit against a British columnist in 1959 for casting aspersions on his masculinity has been engaged three times. "Something always happened to prevent the marriages," he says. His true love, Moulin Rouge dancer Joanne Rio the girl who lived across the street from him in Sherman Oaks, Cal. couldn't come to grips with the personal impetus behind his fame and fortune. "My career has always been a cause for great jealousy with a woman. It's like the third party, he says. Why has he never married? "I don't believe in divorce. Marriage is a final step. Look, when I was 21, I discovered that my father had a mistress. To my horror, I then found out that he'd had that mistress for 20 years. We never had words. But it shook my soul. A man of 21 is deeply impressionable on the subject of marriage." George, his brother and onetime partner, had a $1 million estate which was wiped out hv a succession of five wi"cs. w;s sister, Angie, has had three The Girls "That's his en big fault h feels he's being Ignored whenever I talk to guests and leaps all over them now, as I was saying. . ." husbands. "Some people are just losers when it comes to weddings," he says. "I refuse to be." Liberace's hair, a soft brown, is fluffy and impeccably cut. Six years ago he invested money in a beauty salon, "The Barbery Coast," in Los Angeles. Hairdressers there taught him how to do his own coiffures. "Now I can do anybody's" he says. "Sometimes I fix Mama's chignons. And I've gotten Angie to wear wigs." "Even the hard hats have shoulder length hair today," he says. Remembering the lawsuit, he adds, "I understand why those stones were thrown at me. I was a fashion pioneer who blazed a trail for ostenta-tiousness. Finally I laughed and coined the phrase, 'I cried all the way to the bank!' " Liberace's Italian-born father, now 91, is in a convalescent home in Sacramento. Once he was a French horn player with the Philadelphia Orchestra. When Liberace was 16, he made his piano debut with the Chicago Symphony. My father liked serious music and I wanted to be an entertainer," says Liberace who did his own thing and disenchanted his father. "As he became older, he mellowed. Now he lives in the past. When I visit him he remembers me only as a child." About his current lifestyle: "When you reach the to?, you feel there is still more you can do to come in contact with humanity. When you're sick, you learn to value every bit of energy in your body. When you recover, you learn to spend energy meaningfully. If you've got all these values straight, you're at the peak of life." 1974

[roguebotanist]

I’ve been playing around with talk to transformer today and thought it would be fun to extend a bunch of sim bios! I think someone may have done something similar recently, but I’m not really sure. Anyway, here’s every sim in Strangetown (bolded parts are their original bios). Long post ahead:

Loki Beaker

As soon as he perfects his latest invention, Loki is sure to get the recognition he knows he deserves. In the meantime, he keeps himself busy by trying to assemble a nuclear reactor out of common household items. During one of his experiments, he accidentally melts the family dog. Realizing that his so-called tools of destruction are so harmless, Loki gladly takes his pet back home and happily adopts it. Fearing that the strange creature will cause more damage if he is ever left alone, Loki goes to great lengths to keep it, including stacking hundreds of baby chicken eggs in the backyard.

Circe Beaker

Circe knows 238 different ways to make someone scream, and none of them are nice. She enjoys taxidermy and collecting coat hangers. She has a wonderful knowledge of names and an affinity for Hallmark, which is why all her books are centered around Christmas and spring holidays. This is particularly important to her, as her whole life is completely shaped by them. The children love to ask questions about things, and they are able to make up as many of the answers as they like. Do you have a huge embarrassment problem? One of Circe's known phrases is 'Where's the finger in your back pocket?'.

Sometimes in the garden, she prances

Nervous Subject

His hobbies include twitching and blinking a lot. He's also fond of travelling and baking. Along with the broad and meaty teeth of a canine, St George the giant groundhog has a day-old beard and a partial gingivitis – which is the inflammation of a plaque inside the teeth. His beard and gingivitis don't hurt his routine; they just mean he's a bit slower and a bit more circumspect.

That's because he's aged.

Olive Specter (yes, it gave her stats)

Olive will stop at nothing to get what she wants. She spends her time collecting mushrooms, sharpening sticks, and excavating her yard. As you might expect, she has a big appetite, and eats anything that she thinks is good enough for her. She's as much of a carnivore as you are, and is able to catch fish or birds at the least opportunity. She doesn't bother with plants, and prefers to live in areas full of food.

Alignment: Neutral evil

Hit Dice: 1d8+2

Speed: 30 feet

Ophelia Nigmos (this one is unsettling and strangely coherent)

Ophelia's hobbies include hypochondria and monitoring the air quality. She worries about the future... and the past... and the present. Especially right now.

Her past memories have become like mantras, repeating over and over in her head. They are the most important thing to her. This time, she's not sure she will remember them the way she did before. She's aching to go back and erase her past.

That which is most important to her--the things she left behind--has been forgotten. And nobody can help her. Nobody.

PT9 Smith

The only thing PT9 loves more than his lawn is his family. When he is not spending time with his children, he enjoys clipping coupons and staring up at the sky. Over the years PT9 has found his place in the aquarium world. He has helped educate people on different types of fish and he has hosted various education seminars for clients who have "fish stories" to share. In his spare time, PT9 enjoys spending time with his wife and his grandchildren.

Jenny Smith

Jenny loves having a career, but she wishes she could spend more time with her family, and maybe make some new friends. She really likes green. She wishes she had more friends. She wishes her mom would talk to her more often. She wishes she had nicer hair. She wishes her nose looked like a horse's. She has a lot of sympathy for humans and hopes to see one in the future. Jenny is a cross between a cat and a dog with a medium build, no special traits, but that means she's got a lot of muscle and a huge body

Johnny Smith

Johnny dreams of being the hero that rides in on a white horse, or at least a cool sports car. He'd go on to become the worst Superhero in all of space and time, which I guess is exactly what a normal, human teenage boy would do.

Jill Smith

When Jill closes her eyes, she sees dolphins. She has her heart set on becoming a deep sea welder someday. She loves dolphins so much, she's often put one in the trunk of her car and hit the gas to cheer her up.

"I love them so much," Jill declares. "I'm a Dolphin Lover."

Pascal Curious

No matter what happens, Pascal believes there is a logical explanation for everything. In his free time, he practices home psychoanalysis and collects conspiracy theories. He's become adept at opening jars containing creepy little bones or fragments of jellyfish, an odd skill in the world of ponysaurus hunting.

"I have been extremely lucky with bone fragments and that's not even being exaggerating," Pascal said.

Vidcund Curious

Serious and exact, Vidcund strives to fit the universe into a nice tidy package. He has an unnatural fondness for African violets. He is literally covered in them, from head to toe, if not technically. This is an odd love-hate relationship, a love-love and a hate-hate; that leaves us to sit and imagine the potential war between the vine and the earth.

Lazlo (”Twilight”) Curious

Not as studious as his older brothers, Lazlo got his degree in Phrenology. He likes to call phone psychics and spends hours trying to bend forks with his mind. His middle name is "Twilight" because his father was a vampire. He hates flowers.

General Buzz Grunt

The General likes to have his clocks set to military time. He used to enjoy barbershop quartet singing, but that is classified information. It's unknown when he fell in love, but it's possible that he was one of the first humans to understand the concept of love.

Tank Grunt

Tank Grunt wants to be just like his old man. He spends his days lifting heavy things, dodging imaginary bullets, and being bigger than the other guy, but deep down inside, he wonders if anyone really knows who he is. He hates it when his grandmother wants him to call her "Mama" and his grandma is pissed, and he just wants to stay in the dark and get away from the boring world around him. If he could just learn to love himself, he'd be unstoppable.

Ripp Grunt

Ripp totally doesn't care what you think of him. He is going to do whatever he wants to do, which is mostly what everyone else is doing. He has this whimsical desire to show off his tattoos, even though they give me nightmares (sometimes it feels like these tattoos are like a big torture device). He is hyperbolic and outrageous and uncouth and rude to the point that he's almost comical.

Buck Grunt

More than anything else, Buck wants to be a pet stylist to the stars. He spends a lot of time wondering why his father never seems to notice him.

"I want to have big hands and big feet, and I'm hoping I'm going to end up a couple of feet longer than my parents are," Buck said. "My Dad tells me a lot of things like, 'My son is going to be that guy who gets attention by the funnest side of you you've ever seen.' "

Cousins' health makes him optimistic about his prospects

Ajay Loner

To pass the hours, Ajay enjoys counting the grains of sand in his backyard. He may be about to blow his last few thousand, so he worries no more. "You can always count them. You just have to keep on keeping on," he says.

Chloe Curious

The complete opposite of her sister, Chloe just wants to meet new people and to have a good time. She can often be found daydreaming or chatting on the phone. She is very positive and has a creative mind, a big help when composing mean tweets. She always makes sure she keeps her emotions under control and is not too outgoing in social situations.

Lola Curious

Intelligent and focused, Lola knows what she wants and how to get it. She enjoys politics and telling those around her what to do. She keeps her enemies close and keeps a close eye on her enemies' backbones. Her love of Doctor Who and her interest in exploration drive her to travel the galaxy.

Erin Beaker

Erin spends a lot of time working on her psychic powers. Of course, she isn't really psychic, but don't tell her that. Erin's already a pro at picking out great dates with potential future partners. Nothing beats having a psychic date.

Kristen Singles

Kristen envisions herself as a world famous sports champion. She doesn't particularly care for Strangetown, but it's only a pit stop on her track to greatness. As much as she hates to admit it, her talent has never been in question, but that's not stopping her from strutting and parading around town in a T-shirt advertising her skills. She's no longer treating her sport as a game, but instead is obsessed with her prowess as a self proclaimed "muscle mom." 

[annppl3juice]

I couldn’t help it - Midoriya x reader

This is part of a linear story in which the prompts mold the storyline, I’m writing for many others too but not all of them are finished. Prompt: How did you meet?

Gender Neutral Reader

Hero College AU

Characters are in College so they’re aged up

Being a student at Young Diamonds is something that only a few fortunate people could boast, it is one of the most excellent health colleges in Japan, specializing in raising young doctors even before quirks existed. Many of the students were forced to attend there, after all, which parent wouldn't want to see their children becoming doctors? That wasn't your case, you were passionate about observing surgeries or caring for the elderly. Yet, seeing so many innocent people in danger can frustrate sometimes, like today.

Your feet tapped in anticipation, thinking of the wounded boy you had found unconscious earlier, his innocent and injured face filling you with agony, burns covered half his body and undoubtedly a few dislocated bones, a sight that crushed your heart, and you could only trust the doctor's hands. 'Surely nothing could go wrong since one of the nurses had the heal quirk', you repeated in your mind, trying to focus on your task.

One of your duties being to feed and care for Mrs. Suzuki, a retired pro-hero who regularly got hospitalized, due to her sleep and food deprivation habits, that is, except for sweets. This wasn't supposed to be part of your routine, but the old woman is cranky and practically bit anyone else who came near her, she only liked you and demanded you would be the one who stays with her most of the time; usually, you only accompanied her while the real nurses did their jobs, but 'food time' is the bonding time. You were striving to induce the elderly woman to eat the soup, but she refused. You hardly believed that one of the greatest pro-heroes of her generation ended up this way.

"I'd give anything for a pudding now," she commented, which made you roll your eyes and stare, Mrs. Suzuki noticed this and crossed her arms, "I'm old, I will die anyway, at least let it be enjoyable!" You tweaked your nose, with a twinge of pain in the heart, her kind of humor being one you'd never get used to.

"I beg you, open your mouth, Mrs. Suzuki," you said, lifting a tablespoon of miso soup towards her mouth, with coy eyes, "You'll eat vitamins and protein to stay healthy." The grey-haired lady merely turned her face away, grumpy, while you gazed at her with a silly smile.

"You're boring, (l/n) maybe I should ask to cut your wages," she grinned at you with a cheeky look, you snickered at the strong-willed old lady you learned to love, after that mixing the spoon soup back with the bowl one, to regulate the heat since it had chilled amidst the persistence battle.

"I don't earn a salary, Mrs. Suzuki," you raised your eyeballs towards her, "I'm here because I love you and the other patients, I just want to help," you smiled tenderly, taking the spoon back near her mouth, this time she finally opened it, but not before releasing an exaggerated sigh.

"So what's been bothering you?" Mrs. Suzuki asked. You were indeed very worried about the boy, but you didn't say any of that to her, guess you couldn't expect less of a former pro-hero, "Pudding is the only sweet thing I hate and you said nothing about it, it's not like you."

You cowered, avoiding her piercing teal eyes, guilty about taking one patient to your personal feelings, then again, Mrs. Suzuki's role could be described as more of a grandmother one, an irresponsible, devious, hot-headed one, but a grandmother.

"Don't worry about me, Mrs. Suzuki, I'm the one supposed to take care of you," she released a 'tsk' sound, the sound made you glance at her, meeting an annoyed expression with rolling eyes.

"Oh, shut up, (l/n)!" She produced a harsh pitch, though not hostile; her arms placed crossed in front of her body as she faced the depths of your soul, which made you gulp. "You're like family to me, now start talking."

"Is just that...A boy came here unconscious earlier. I'm worried about him," you admitted, looking down at the half-full soup bowl. In your reflection, it was possible to see the apprehensive eyes. Being concerned about patients was your nature, but being the one who found him made this further personal.

"Hmmm...A crush perhaps?" She teased, raising an eyebrow while watching your every move. Your eyes widened as you questioned if that's what it looked like. Unquestionably he has a cute face, one that conveys a sensation of both innocence and confidence, and you regarded nothing other than the platonic tenderness, one you have for all the ailing, still, that thought was enough to turn you into a nervous wreck.

"Mrs. Suzuki!" you screamed, getting up from your seat while feeling the warmth on your cheeks spread all over your face. The old lady guffawed with amusement at your humiliated expression."It's just that I found him! I feel responsible for him!" you said shyly, and she tipped her head back, still laughing.

You waited a good few seconds with the lady attempting and failing to restrain her chuckles.

"You feel responsible for all patients, though," she said after calming down, rubbing a finger under her eyes to wipe away the tears of joy that had emerged. You poked and sited again.

"I just...I can't help it...I wanna talk to him," you mumbled, stirring the soup with the metal spoon, your mind remembering and tracing every injury you could remember in the boy's body.

"What are you waiting for, a divine sign? Go talk to him already," Mrs. Suzuki was not the tolerant type and trough her ocean-deep eyes you could see the judgment: you were making things too complicated, as you tended to.

"But... I have to finish giving you the food, and then I'll walk you through the exercises, and then...," you could tell by her euphoria diminishing to frustration that your excuses didn't work.

"For god’s sake! I won't be a cockblock!" she screamed, you looked sideways for fear of someone being near enough to overhear her, your face completely blushed.

"MRS. SUZUKI!" you screamed back, in shame, the thing this woman had any.

"Listen here, young one! This is the first time I'm going to do this so don't you dare waste it, call a nurse, they'll take care of me!" Your eyes widened, she would allow no one else to come near her, and to think she made this exception just for you made a sincere smile appear on your face.

"You're such a headstrong," you laughed, observing her grin "Don't worry, I'll do it."

_______________________

This bit was a little tricky, it's part of the hospital's policy that students should stay with nurses when visiting patients (aside from you with Mrs. Suzuki, the old lady is just too hostile.), so your trip to Midoryia's room would be a slight rule break. Yet you were determined to talk to the boy privately. Fortunately, the 24-hour shifts resulted in several employees sleeping in the on-call rooms, so your visit should go unnoticed.

You opened the door quietly and noticed that the boy lying there looking out the window; now his wounds were gone, surely the heal quirk. This made you think eventually medicine will become obsolete.

"Hmm, Mister Midoriya Izuku? My name is (l/n) (y/n)," You called him, introducing yourself so he'd feel more comfortable around you, the boy noticed your presence and just stared, you were pretty sure you heard mumbling, then became worried that he might be in shock, "Mister Midoriya?"

"O--Oh!" he seemed to wake up from his thoughts, blushing, you were relieved that he showed normal psychological conditions, but it was still too early to judge, "I--I'm sorry! I didn't mean to stare!" that sentence made you smile, he looked so innocent, "Is just that you look so young for a nurse, is it a quirk?" you scratched your neck, deviating from the question.

"Well, no, I'm only a student at YD," you smiled, stepping closer to him, "I was the one who found you."

"T--Thank you so much!" he joined his hands, bowing as he spoke. The scene was so cute you couldn't help but giggle.

"There is no need for that," you waved your hands in front of you, getting closer, he observed you as you pulled a stool close to his hospital bed and sat down right afterward. "I'm gonna check some vital signs, hmm kay? Meantime, can you tell me how you got so hurt?" You approached him and gently grabbed his arm, to feel his pulse. He was speechless for a few seconds, so you stopped to see if there was anything wrong; as you lifted your head, you noted his flushed face, automatically drifting away. "I'm terribly sorry, mister Midoryia! I did something wrong?"

You thought you heard him whisper 'Too close,' but couldn't be sure.

"No--No, No!" he frantically shook his hands in front of his face, "I--It's just your job, please go on!"

"Well, It's only a work experience, don't worry," you gave him a gentle smile, remembering you're not supposed to be there, "I won't do anything to make you uncomfortable," you said, pulling your stool away from him, "but you didn't answer my question, about how you ended up that way."

"Oh...!" he genuinely seemed to have forgotten the question, "I saw a villain assaulting a woman and since during vacations we don't have hero licenses I..."

"You...You confronted a villain with your bare hands?!" you interrupted him, in shock, if you were worried before, now even more so, "Why didn't you wait for a pro-hero to come?!"

"I couldn't help it" he scratched his neck, with a silly smile on his face. That was a phrase you said a lot yourself, but coming from his mouth it fascinated you.

There was only one certainty: You wanted to know more about that boy.

[statistically-unlikely-monster]

Jon’s Not Dead

Chapter 2 Part 1

It’s finally here! I honestly didn’t think I would get this far with the story, but here we are. As I have said, Bing and Larry are in this part, though it’s pretty brief. There’s also a small bit featuring Dr. Devin, my Eddsworld OC that had a small cameo in the Prologue. (If you guys feel like it, you can send me some asks about him.) Without further delay, here it is.

Tord and Eduardo sat on separate beds in the infirmary, waiting for the doctor to finish patching up Paul. The poor guy was bashed up, but luckily didn't break anything. Despite this, the doctor scolded him as he cleaned up his bloodied wounds.

"You are lucky to still be alive." Dr. Devin grumbled, just barely understandable with his thick German accent.

Paul interjected, "Hey, I didn't want to get slapped into a wall!" 

"I did not say you wanted to. I said you could have died. You all need to be careful. I cannot cure death."

Tord interjected, trying to stop another fistfight between Paul and the doctor, "Speaking of which, how was that experiment with the dead mice going?"

Dr. Devin cleared his throat,"Not good. The muscles move, but still not alive. What about you sir? Do you have a backup plan?"

With an awkward chuckle Tord admitted to him, "Well...Not really. I was banking on this being it. He had his friend, I had my book, and we both go separate ways."

"Aw c'mon, you gotta have something." Eduardo butted in with a groan.

"Like what exactly?"

"I don't know? Like uh…you could build a robot of him." Eduardo paused, trying to think of something just so he could prove his point, "Uh...look I'm blanking here, but I'm just trying to say that there's gotta be something you can pull out of your sleeves."

"What am I, a magician?"

Eduardo shrugged, “Not exactly what I was going for, but sure.”

Tord grumbled under his breath. As much as he didn’t want to admit it, Eduardo had a point. He was the Red Army Leader for crying out loud. He was on a path to world domination, and yet here he was tripping over one little setback in his plans. No, Tord was many things, but he wasn’t about to be a quitter.

As luck would have it, he knew just the person that had something he could use, and that said person owed him. Nodding to himself, he turned to the doctor, “Dr. Devin, bring me the phone please." Dr. Devin nodded wordlessly and fetched him an old Nokia that had been sitting on the desk. Thanking him, Tord quickly dialed the number of his good “friends” Bing and Larry, “Hey, I- DON'T HANG UP DON'T HANG UP! ...Yeah I know, I've been busy...Stuff...Look, that does not matter. You still owe me a favor, remember? ... This will be quick, I promise. I just need to borrow that cloning machine- what? ...How does something that big accidentally fall out the window? ...Oh. You can make another one, right? ...If I help, will you do it? ...Great! Thank you! ...Yeah, see you soon Bing!" Hanging up, he turned to the rest of the group with a smug grin, ”Greit, Bing is going to help us out!"

"And who the hell is that?" Eduardo replied.

“Long story, but he cloned me back when I was living with Edd.” Tord casually explained as if it were a daily occurence, ”He still has the machine, so we can clone your friend and get this whole thing done with.” Now the only problem is getting something with his DNA on it."

"Would a piece of his shirt work?" Eduardo held up a scrap of blue fabric that he pulled out from his wallet. It was the only thing he had left to remember Jon with, so he was reluctant to leave it at home.

"Yeah, that should be good. Bing should be here sometime soon, so in the meantime- I think I need a nap." Tord yawned and settled himself back down on one of the infirmary beds.

”Dude, you just woke up.”

”And now I’m tired. Wake me up when Bing gets here.”

”Aye aye captain.” Eduardo spat sarcastically with an exaggerated salute.

With Paul and Tord passed out, it was just him and Dr. Devin. For whatever reason, the doctor gave him a bad feeling. As far as he had seen, Devin had been the live-in mother for the army, so there really was no reason for his suspicion. Sure, there was the fact that he had stitches all over that made him resemble Frankenstein, but other than that he was a normal guy.

”Eduardo, ja?” Dr. Devin interrupted his thoughts by nudging his shoulder “Are you feeling well? You seem lost in thought.” He put the back of his hand to Eduardo’s forehead to check for a fever.

Eduardo pushed his hand away, ”Yeah, I’m fine.”

The doctor knowingly nodded with a faint crack of a smile, ”You have a bad feeling about me, right?”

”Huh?” Eduardo questioned, “How did you know?”

He shrugged, softly chuckling to himself, ”It runs in my family. No matter what, we all end up looking like villains from those hero comics. At this point, I am used to it.”

”Oh. Kinda weird trait to pass on, but okay.” He replied, feeling an uneasy knot tie up in his stomach. He tried to hide it by doing his best poker face, but judging from the doctor’s expression, he wasn’t hiding how he felt too well.”

Dr. Devin chuckled again, silver eyes piercing through Eduardo like daggers.”Oh, that is just um...what is the phrase...the top of the ice.” A muted knock cut their conversation short, “Ah, that must be Bing. That was quick. Can you let him in please?” The doctor was back to acting like his normal, motherly self, almost as if the threatening exchange never happened.

Regardless, Eduardo wasn’t about to pass up an opportunity to get away from the creep. Swinging open the door, he was met with two men holding boxes of metal parts.

”Well, it took awhile, but I got all the pieces I could find. Serves me right for thinking monkeys could man the machine.” The man Eduardo assumed was Bing sighed, shaking his head for his own mistake. 

The man behind him stood there looking bored out of his mind, “Where’s Tord at? I thought he wanted us.”

Eduardo gestured behind him with his thumb, ”He’s asleep. You can try waking that loser up if you want.”

”Pass.” Bing replied, brushing past to set the boxes in the middle of the room along with a rolled up piece of blue paper.

"Suit yourself. "How does this thing even go together?'

"Oh yeah, just follow the blueprints, should be straightforward. I got to go real quick, but I'll be back to check in. Good luck." Bing and the other man left as quickly as they came without even looking back.

"Fucking asshole making me do all this crap. I don't even know what half of this stuff is. How did he expect me to do it myself?" Eduardo growled to himself, thinking about how he had to put together a machine while Tord napped. Luckily for him, one of the soldiers passed through the hallway,"Paul, can you help me?"

"Sure, but I'm Patryk." Patryk stepped in with his cup of coffee, curiously staring at the boxes of what looked like scrap metal.

Eduardo replied, "Close enough. Can you figure out any of this?" He passed the blueprints to Patryk before digging through the different pieces to try and decipher how any of them gone together.

“Kinda surprised with how simple it is." Patryk remarked after a few silent minutes of him studying the messy diagrams.

Eduardo craned his neck to look at it himself, "That's simple? All I can make out is weird white lines on blue paper."

"Yeah. It's almost like looking at instructions for building furniture though. All we need to do is put the pieces in the right spot. No welding or anything." Patryk sat his coffee down on a nearby table, scratching his head, "Looks like there might be a few things missing."

Eduardo shrugged, "Eh, I'm sure it'll be fine."