#then he forces his victims to take his pop quizes

[copperbora]

So my brother sent me this TFW preview of the new Studio Series Ultra Magnus by Black Convoy. Truly this is a great Ultra Magnus; I mean, just look at him:

But then I saw his vehicle mode.

Poor Blurr, trapped up there.

I have a new appreciation for Ultra Magnus; he is the least fun bus driver ever. Autobots dread having to be loaded onto his trailer, knowing that he will force them to listen to a multitude of many-hours-long horrible audio recordings of super fun hits like:

- the Autobot Manifesto

- Autobot army regulations

- galactic law

To make certain that nobody is trying to occupy their processors with far more fun things, like music, or audiobooks of actual books, Ultra Magnus forces a pop quiz on his trapped trailer victims whenever there is a break in the subject or chapter.

He's like that one school chaperone whom nobody wanted to be under on field trips, even their own kid.

[crossdressingdeath]

I finally figured out why Vivienne rubs me the wrong way. To paraphrase she is a lottery winner telling the underpaid workers that capitalism works.

As throughout the Dragon Age series we see how circle fails mages (In Orgins there is books about blood magic in hopes of catching desperate mage in the act of a crime, Awakenings the templars setting a entrapment for Anders despite being a grey warden and then there is Kirkwall).

Then in the game in which mage independence is a big issue our only circle mage perspection that is a main character is Vivienne who is fine with the current system. As Vivienne will tell us the player that while the system has flaws overall is fine. Which is really ridiculous considering the last game.

What Dragon Age Inquisition needed was a Kirkwall mage who saw the worst of the circles to be a counter argument that the circles are flawed

And what I mean by Vivienne being a lottery winner is that her position is almost a miracle. As while a young mage in the circle she had to be powerful enough to be allowed to do her harrowing but also not too powerful to make the templars afraid (as I believe it is implied that mages that are too powerful are nipped in the bud in Orgins), then in a party she is charming enough that a noble takes a fancy to her which then allows her to charm the Empress and gain political power.

All of these aspects feels like sheer luck. So when Vivienne tells me the circle works I want to eat my face in frustration as I remember Jowan and Anders and Hawke's parents desperately trying not to be in the circle.

(Sorry for the rant)

I think Vivienne is ultimately a very notable victim of a lot of DAI's poor writing choices. Both in terms of character writing and in terms of the overall themes.

See, DAI doesn't want us to get any perspective that doesn't prop up the Circle and the Chantry. It doesn't want us questioning the necessity of either institution. It's not just Vivienne; think back on the mage characters we see in DAI, the ones that aren't in the Circle mostly just don't talk about it. Not even Quiz, and if Quiz tries to argue that the Circles aren't great the Circle mages go "Well you're wrong because it was great for me" and Quiz isn't allowed to say anything back. See also Minaeve going "Well the Dalish are shit and the Circle is great because the Dalish threw me away and the Templars rescued me and that doesn't contradict anything in the preexisting lore and also it definitely doesn't say anything about the Chantry that my clan couldn't support an additional mage in their life on the run and also I'm just going to blindly assume the Templars were telling the truth" while Lavellan is forced to just stand there, smiling and nodding and not arguing back at all even though they logically would. DAI needed a counterargument to the "Circles are good" argument, it needed a character who'd seen the worst they had to offer, but we were never going to get that because DAI didn't want it to be a debate. It wants us to blindly agree that the Circles are good and mages wanting freedom is bad. Which is a wildly stupid decision but someone made it anyway!

DAI also does not like character growth. Not in the slightest. The most DAI's companions get is their character growth popping in all at once in Trespasser after a full game of them being completely static. Just like how Sera refuses to acknowledge how awful she's being to Lavellan until Trespasser where she suddenly asks how they're feeling about the Evanuris stuff without using it to make them feel like there's something wrong with them for having non-Andrastian beliefs or how Dorian defends slavery and then that's quietly never acknowledged again until he mentions in Tevinter Nights that "someone he met in the south" changed his mind on the subject or how Cullen... is Cullen, you're never allowed to challenge Vivienne on her beliefs because if you did that then she might change and grow as a person and DAI does not want to deal with that. Especially not when challenging Vivienne means challenging the argument that the Circles are The Best Option. Poor Vivienne gets hit hard by DAI's refusal to accept that the Chantry's bad and the fandom does not want to side with them, she's probably the single biggest piece of collateral damage to DAI's bad choices.

And the thing is it's not that Vivienne doesn't know she's lucky! It's not that she doesn't know the Circles fail people! She recognizes there's a lot of flaws, and she does genuinely want to improve things for her fellow mages! Her intentions are good! Plus honestly if you work to get her approval up she's actually one of the better companions in terms of how she treats Quiz (seriously, look at some of her high approval conversations, she cares so damn much) and she'll defend even companions she doesn't like from unjust attacks (she's got a very good banter with romanced Dorian about how she got a letter from a magister she knows somehow about how disgusting Dorian and Quiz's relationship is and basically told him to fuck off with that). Vivienne really does care and really does want to make things better, she's just been so poisoned by her life in a world very heavily controlled by the Chantry and the Templars that she can't see past their way of doing things. The problem isn't that she doesn't see how lucky she is; she knows she got a lucky break that a lot of mages don't get (although it's important to note that she didn't just get lucky, Vivienne absolutely worked her ass off to get to where she is), and she knows that not everyone could get to where she is even if they'd gotten as lucky as she did. What she misses is that you need to be insanely lucky just to be more or less content in the Circle, never mind happy or powerful. Lucky enough to escape the worst of the Templars' abuses, lucky enough to be in a decent Circle, lucky enough not to be too weak or too powerful, lucky enough to get a manageable demon in your Harrowing, lucky enough to be the sort of person who won't be completely miserable trapped in one building your whole life... The thing Vivienne misses is that she got out, she doesn't have to spend her whole life in the Circle praying the Templars are good to her, and that's not an opportunity a lot of mages get no matter how smart or skilled they are. It drives me nuts, because if we were just allowed to push her to see that her story would immediately be so much better. As it is it's a lot of potential and a strong start that never really get paid off.

[nightcolorz]

114 for the drabbles 👀

Here u go Ray 🥰 Lmfao uh this is my longest Drabble 😁. This ask is following an ask game where u can send me prompts from here: https://www.tumblr.com/nightcolorz/735473060637016064/drabble-challenge-1-150?source=share and I’ll write a Drabble!!

Takes place sometime in the devils minion era shortly post chase years when they r beginning to have a relationship. CW for some nsfw (tho no actual sex) and The F Slur 😁

114-No, you’re my bitch 

It was one of those really sweltering hot nights, Florida, when the brief breezes feel more like someone thick and sweating panting on your moistened brow, rather than a cool bit of mercy. The kind of day that drives a man fucking crazy. The sort of weather that has the crime rates spiking high enough to make somebody like me self reflect a little. A heat that could get to a vampire I figure, if you’ve got yourself a vampire bodily and human adjacent enough to notice the heat at all. 

I had myself a vampire with a fetish for all things human and feeling, lucky boy that I was, and on that particular agonizing night I found him unusually. Not looming above my bed like a ginger hawk, nor approaching me with the spontaneity of an apparition, but sitting on the steps of the apartment I was renting. Armand could’ve been sitting there without thinking of me at all, it seemed so non-calculated. Alarming for my vampire boyfriend, who was not the unintentional type. He was sitting there like a kid, sort of pouty, a bit disadvantaged looking. His jeans fit weird on his legs, too long at the ankles but two tight in the thighs. He was wearing some ratty wife beater tank that would look more at home on a harder, bigger guy than on this ethereal monster, this sad boy. His boots were working boots, and definitely too big for him, sort of clownish. Armand was looking down at them, plush bottom lip jutted out, red handed. I mean so literally, red handed, bloodied. 

It was subtle enough that only someone whose world revolved around blood could notice such a thing. There was blood coated under those claw-like nails, a sheen of sweat and sweet boy-like blush pulsing beneath his skin. And the clothes could be nothing else but the garbs of a victim. A victim who must’ve been really something, considering how Armand didn’t even seem to register me standing over him. 

“Hey man.” I said,  rocking on the souls of my feet a bit. At this point it felt so normal, speaking to him, to an extent that was almost funny. My vampire buddy, my immortal lover. My weird boy sidekick, who I wanted very badly to fuck me brainless. Hey man indeed. “Daniel.” He responded, wistfully. He wasn’t all there, which wasn’t unusual in itself. But something was wrong, even by Armand standards, and damn was I bothered. “What’s up?” I asked, after taking a beat to consider how best to go about this. I was concerned, almost like he was real and I might affect him. I really didn’t want him to be hurt. Armand hurt. It made me feel sick, in a way that was so deep it was disorienting. 

Armand didn’t answer. I realized that a question like “what’s up” was perhaps a bit too nonspecific and modern for him to wrap his head around, and I tried to rework a wording in my head before I heard, spoken to me within my soul, directly in my brain as if it was coming from me, and not my parasitic lover inserting himself in what was rightly his. “What does it mean to be someone’s bitch, Daniel?”

“Fuck.” I muttered. “It always fucks me up when you do that, God damn.” He only looked at me, non speaking. I felt sort of stupid and confused, like I was a kid struck with a pop quiz. “Bitch?” I said dumbly. Armand looked down to the shoes. “What do you mean, bitch? What is this about?”

“If a man were to say to you: Don’t get smart with me faggot, know your place. You’re nothing more then my fucking bitch—what would that entail?” I heard spoken amongst my thoughts in that delicate, airy voice. 

The force of my anger could’ve been strong enough to black me out. I knew the vengeful rage was irrational, sort of pathetic and childish, to feel like I could protect this thing before me, this thing capable of killing me with an effortless touch of his hand. Yet it was there, and in the moment I could only submit to it. “What the fuck. Who said that to you?” I asked, trying to keep myself from shouting like a moron. Armand’s eyes returned to meet mine, and some clarity calmed me as I looked into that complete darkness, those glimpses into power and age so immeasurable in comparison to my moral limitations that I could only begin to glimpse it. 

“Someone meaningless and small, whom I took easily.” Responded the voice within my head. I nodded, and with some atypical reverence and gentleness I sat beside Armand on the steps. Two dirty, confused vagabond youths, with blood under their fingernails, trying to understand. 

“Well, in this instance, that’s what he meant when he said that you’re his quote on quote fucking bitch.” I said disdainfully. “Meaningless and small.” I briefly hesitated before I continued. “Could take you easily.” Armand was looking at the shoes.

“Hey?” I prompted “Hey, are you ok?” He didn’t respond. Only continued looking downwards, no hint of understanding or emotion visible in his expression. I felt so sad, David looking up at the gigantic impenetrable Goliath for a moment, wondering how I could reach something so beyond me. It was when I began to consider standing up and stretching my legs that I heard the wind chime voice in my head, this time tinged with a lightness and a sweetness that warmed me from the inside. “How funny.” He said. “That he should think this of me, when really he was my bitch ultimately. If there is an afterlife, whatever that may be, he must exist with the reality that he died my bitch. He will always be my bitch, for as long as his cruel soul continues. A wonderful joy, to have someone be my bitch.”

Predictable pervert that I was, I blushed a little. Not outrageously, but just enough to catch my blood hungry lover’s attention, activate that primitive hunter’s nose with the blood swarming close to the skin. He looked up, into my eyes. I coughed, nearly spluttered, and looked down, averting my gaze from his. He was unflinching, unblinking. “Daniel.” This time he spoke aloud, which was less intimate than speaking within me, but much more exhibitive. “You’re my bitch, aren’t you, Daniel?” 

My breath hitched audibly. I felt exposed and naked, hearing him say that, people walking by. “Armand.” I tried to hiss, though I know it came off as more of a plea. 

“Say it.” He commanded softly, though with little gentleness or remorse. “Tell me what you are Daniel.” I shuddered. Hot flashes spread through my abdomen alongside cold, raw shivers racing down my spine. It was feverish and sickening. I was weak with it, grinning. “I’m nothing more than your bitch.” I confessed painfully, through smiling teeth, submissive like a monkey’s smile. He reduced me to that, an animal, a bitch. I was beginning to get hard in my jeans. 

“Yes..” He whispered, and he ran one of his bloodied hands through my hair, petting me like a dog. “Know your place faggot.” He said, so softly and sincerely. The crassness sounded nearly absurd. The innocence of a parrot repeating something it heard but couldn’t understand. The effect was immediate regardless. 

“Let’s go inside.” I breathed. Armand let his hand travel to my neck, and he held me there, commanding, controlling. “Dogs don’t give orders.” He said, with some humor, and I whined shakily as if to support his statement. “But yes, inside we shall go. And stay we shall still, if you can remember your place.”

——

U can find my drabbles posted on a03 here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52422124/chapters/132615793

[collabwithmyself]

1-1: Turnabout Transpire

"Geez, Miles, you sure know how to pick 'em."

Miles Edgeworth cleared his throat, feeling his face begin to burn. "I, erm."

"You sure you're up for this, buddy?" His Uncle Raymond leaned in to inspect him closely, one eyebrow cocked. "It's a lot to handle, y'know."

"I'm perfectly confident in my abilities," he asserted, pushing up his spectacles to try and mask the way his hands were shaking. "I know it's a little ambitious to be taking a murder case when I've only just received my badge--"

"Huh?" Ray blinked, then jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "Course you can take on a murder charge, I'm talking about him."

Miles followed his gaze to the sobbing man in orange, who was currently clutching a disgruntled guard standing by the entrance connecting the defense lobby to the courtroom.

"Ah."

"What was it you said everyone always said? "If something smells...""

Miles shook his head. "Larry may be... emotional, but he's no murderer. He never honestly means harm. He's going to be fine."

Larry was currently wailing at the top of his lungs that he was going to die, which really didn't help his case. Uncle Ray lifted his other brow, as if to say, he's YOUR client, and Miles heaved a sigh before straightening his bowtie and marching over.

"Come on, Larry, stop pestering the guard."

"Edgey!" Larry's face was flushed with grief, and his eyes and nose leaked an amount that was as impressive as it was disgusting. "You believe me, right?! I'd never lay a hand on my sweet Cindy! I'm not a murderer, I swear!"

"I know. That's why I agreed to defend you."

Larry made a high-pitched noise that Miles could best describe as a whine, then buried his snotty face in Miles's overcoat. "Just lock me up, man! I'm gonna die!"

"NGOOH!" Miles stumbled backwards at the sheer amount of force the wiry man displayed. "Kindly do not use my clothes as your own personal handkerchief!"

He felt little sympathy when Larry gave him an agonized look, like Miles had personally betrayed him somehow. He folded his arms. "And quit talking like that," he huffed. "You're not going to die. Have you that little faith in me?"

Larry blinked. Then, like a switch had been flipped, he broke into a watery grin. "H-Hey, you're right! I've got the best attorney in the world in my corner, right?!"

While he felt himself blush at the praise, Miles allowed himself to preen a little. Whatever got Larry to stop screeching... "Naturally. Nothing but the best for my best friend."

To his horror, Larry pulled him into another wet hug, bursting into tears all over again. "You're the best, Edgeeeeeyyy!"

"NGOOOOOOH!"

Uncle Ray clapped him on the shoulder sympathetically. "Alright, alright, I love hugs as much as the next guy, but we do have to prep for court. You remember what you're doing, right?"

"Of course I do," Miles said quickly, sensing that a dreaded pop quiz was brewing.

Ray paid him no mind and chugged along anyway. "Alright, first question! Who's the defendant? Me, you, or Larry?"

"Larry," Miles grumbled, furious that he was playing along, but seeing no faster way out of the situation.

"Bingo!" Ray beamed. "And what's the name of the victim? Cinder Block, Cindy Stone, or Sydney Harbor?"

Miles made a noise of disgust low in his throat. "Cindy Stone! Those other two aren't even names--"

"Two for two! Alright, last question, how'd the victim die? Strangulation, electrocution, or exsanguination?"

"Hmph." Miles shook his head. "I'm not nine anymore, Uncle Ray, you can't honestly expect me to still fall for those trick questions of yours. Miss Stone died of blunt force trauma."

His Uncle Ray wiped away an imaginary tear. "My boy's all grown up," he sniffed dramatically.

"Oh, not you too," he griped, but the irritation was half-hearted at best.

Unfortunately, discussing the details of his late girlfriend's murder had the effect of setting off Larry all over again. He let out a noise like an air raid siren, then shoved his snotty face into Miles's back, flinging his gangly arms around him.

His uncle snickered when he rolled his eyes. "Hey, he's got the right idea, I think. Hug for luck?"

"Don't you dare," Miles snapped, but Ray was already stepping forward with his arms outstretched, and he was promptly sandwiched between the sparse members of what he'd come to consider his family.

Miles bit back a groan of protest and let himself relax a little. He wouldn't have terribly minded this if they weren't in public and Larry wasn't sniveling all over his father's overcoat, but that was just the way life went sometimes.

They stood there for a good minute, Larry hiccuping into one shoulder and Ray patting the other, and then the guard cleared their throat. "Uh, it's about time," they said, and Miles sighed as he was released.

"Alright, see you in there, then, Mr. Butz!" Ray flashed Larry a bright smile that he managed to shakily return along with a thumbs up. "You ready, Miles?"

Miles nodded firmly. "As I'll ever be."

⁂

Court went better than he'd hoped. Yes, Larry was... well, Larry, and attempted to lie on the stand at some point, frightened he'd be in trouble, but the judge thankfully chose not to penalize him for perjury. The prosecutor, whose name he couldn't quite remember, had constructed a rather shoddy case, and as it turned out, the witness he'd chosen had in fact been the true culprit.

Everything happened almost too quickly, and in no more than an hour, the trio was in the defense lobby again in much the same position they'd been in earlier - Larry sobbing into Miles, and Ray caught between sympathy and amusement.

"There, there, Mr. Butz, it's gonna be alright..."

"She was the love of my life, man! And she-- she cheated on me!"

It was rather harsh of Miss Stone, Miles thought, to suddenly cut contact with Larry like that. As oblivious as the man was, he didn't deserve to be flat-out ghosted. He saw no point in reassuring Larry the woman had cared for him deep down; in his personal opinion, his friend was better off without her. Sure, she hadn't deserved to die for it, but...

He awkwardly reached up and patted Larry's shoulder. "It's... going to be all right," he managed, repeating his uncle's words.

Larry snorted a booger back up into his nose. Miles shuddered. "Y... You think so?"

Unsure how to answer, he nodded.

Larry gave him a weepy smile. "Thanks for looking out for me, man. You were incredible in there! Just like old times!"

"Old times?"

"Yeah, remember in fourth grade, when you lost your lunch money? And Nick was..."

Larry trailed off, and Miles felt a cold knot settle in his gut. The two refused to look at each other. The air in the room suddenly felt much heavier.

Ray cleared his throat a little too loudly. "Hey, this is a cause for celebration, right? Let's head out, my treat."

"Thank you, Uncle Ray," Miles sighed. "That was an exciting morning, but I'm quite ready to move on with my day."

[heauxplesslydevoted]

Fresh Start - Prologue

Ethan x MC

Summary: After going through her own personal trauma, Dr. Naomi Valentine packs up and sets her sights on Boston. But a new job in a new city comes with its own set of challenges and drama.

A/N: I honestly have no idea why this plot popped into my head, but where we are. Part of this chapter borrows from Ethan and MC’s very first encounter in chapter 1, with some very minor tweaks.

As always, let me know if you want to be tagged or untagged. And enjoy!

Tags: @fanmantrashcan @ao719 @x-kyne-x @colourmeshy @writinghereandthere @paulfwesley @ramseyandrys @a-i-n-a-a-s-h @perriewinklenerdie @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @hatescapsicum @lapisreviewsstuff @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramsey @the-soot-sprite @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @miyakokurono @trappedinfandoms @my-heart-beats-for-ya @adrian-motherfucking-raines @riverrune @edith-eggs1 @thatysn @bellcat2010 @theeccentricbibliophile @cecilecontrera @junehiratas @choices-love-affair @openheart12 @kaavyaethanramsey @caseyvalentineramsey @desmaranj @mal-volaris @whatchique @nazario-sayeed @aestheticartwriting @mvalentine @nooruleman 

~v~

Don’t get married at 19, they said. Don’t spend the best years of your life tied down to someone else, they said. This will be the biggest mistake of your life, they said.

They were all right.

If you would’ve told Naomi that her husband of 9 years was going to cheat on her with his receptionist and knock her up, she would’ve laughed. But fate laughed harder.

She’s Naomi freaking Valentine – thank God she never changed her last name. She’s brilliant, she’s an attending at one of the best hospitals in Washington D.C, and she comes from one of the most prominent families in this city, but none of that even matters. Because it’s Friday night and she’s currently at home, watching trashy television, crying into her couch cushion.

At first there was the unbridled rage that threatened to consume her from the inside out. Leading up to the divorce, she felt like she was always on the brink of exploding. She wanted to kill her husband, his stupid mistress, his slimy divorce attorney, and anyone else who dared cross her path.

But now that the divorce papers are signed, now that all of the air has been deflated from her, all she feels is overwhelming sadness.

Divorce sucks. It’s a pretty well known fact, but everyone else feeling the same way doesn’t negate her feelings. She’d rather get split down the middle and turned inside out than ever go through something like this ever again. She’s strong, but she’s not strong enough to endure this type of battle more than once.

She’s too wrapped up in her own feelings, she doesn’t notice the front door of her condo opening and closing. But the sound of heels clinking against her wood floors is enough to pull her out of her own thoughts.

“You weren’t answering my calls, darling.”

The vivacious voice of Dorinda Valentine booms throughout the condo. Naomi looks up and sees her mother standing a few feet away. She has Tupperware in her hands.

“Yeah, I turned my phone off.”

“I figured.”

“What’s in the Tupperware, mama?”

“I made you some chicken stir fry. I think it’s safe to assume you haven’t eaten anything today.”

It’s a correct assumption. On any other day, Naomi would devour anything her mother put in front of her face, but now, the thought of food makes her stomach turn.

She shakes her head. “I’m not hungry.”

“You’re a doctor, Naomi, you know better than anyone that you should be eating.” Dorinda stares at the tall bottle of vodka on the coffee table. “And just because vodka is made from potatoes, it still doesn’t count.”

Naomi doesn’t respond. She just turns her head and burrows further into the couch.

Dorinda stands there for a few moments, observing her daughter. It’s a depressing sight, one she isn’t used to. If she could take the pain from Naomi and somehow transfer it to herself, Dorinda would do it in a heartbeat.

“Okay.” Dorinda drops her purse to the floor and sets the containers down on the coffee table. She walks to the couch. Grabbing Naomi by the shoulder, she roughly yanks the younger woman. Naomi rolls over and drops to the ground with a thud.

“Mom!” Naomi looks at her mom with a scowl. “Why did you do that?”

“It’s been 2 weeks since you and Daniel signed the divorce papers. I have given you plenty of space and opportunity to mope around in the dark, but I think it’s time for the pity party to end.”

“2 weeks is not nearly enough time to simply get over the past 9 years.” Naomi argues as she stands up and dusts herself off. 

“I know you’re hurt–”

“No offense, but you and daddy have been married for thirty years, and last time I checked, I don’t have any half siblings conceived within that time, so you cannot fathom my hurt, so you can just skip over any platitudes that might be brewing.”

Dorinda raises an eyebrow. “You’re upset, so I’m going to ignore your wildly inappropriate and condescending tone, and give you a one time pass.”

“I’m sorry,” Naomi murmurs, flopping back down on her couch. She averts her mother’s gaze because she can feel the older woman staring daggers at her. “I’m just very...out of sorts these days, like I’ve been hit by a bus and then put on a rollercoaster.”

“Now I may not understand divorce, but I can empathize with what you’re feeling.” Dorinda sits down next to Naomi.

“I know everyone thought I was crazy to marry Daniel in the first place, and I’m so sure there's no love lost on your part, but I really went into this with the best intentions. And I thought he did too.”

Dorinda runs her thumb across Naomi’s cheek, collecting a falling tear. “People suck, and life is full of crappy people who do crappy things. And I’m sorry that you had to be a victim to one of them.”

Naomi chuckles humorlessly. “That’s one way to put it.”

“I’m sure it feels like the easiest thing in the world to curl into a ball and stay holed up in this apartment, but you are so much stronger than that. And Daniel Thompson does not deserve the right to reduce you to this. If you want to mope on this couch for the rest of your life, then you do it on your own accord, not because of him. But in my personal opinion, I think you’re too wonderful to become a piece of furniture.”

“What do you suppose I do?” Naomi challenges with a shrug. “I don’t how to do anything other than be his wife.”

“Well, that’s not true at all. But first, you’re going to take a shower, crack open a window to let some fresh air in, and then you’re going to do something that helps you vent. Rip a pillow, scream, scratch Daniel’s face out of his pictures, whatever you want. And then you and I are going to sit on this couch and have a very good cry. And I mean an all out, snotty nose, puffy eyes, sore throat type of cry.”

Getting off of this couch sounds like a feat within itself, one that Naomi doesn’t know if she has the strength or energy to do.

“That’s the first step,” Dorinda says, playing with a strand of Naomi’s hair. “That’s the hard part, but once you do that, I promise it gets easier. You just have to trust yourself and put one foot in front of the other, okay?”

A heavy silence falls on the room and Dorinda waits on bated breath for her daughter to respond. She’s never seen Naomi like this, the life completely drained out of her.

Naomi’s voice comes out small and unrecognizable, but she answers nonetheless. “Okay.”

~v~

One month passes and things finally start progressing for Naomi. She won’t say her life is back to normal, but she’s no longer glued to her couch, so her family considers it a win.

It’s a nice day, so Dorinda forces her to leave the comfort of her apartment and spend the day with her family.

“One of your father’s friends is coming over, so be nice,” Dorinda scolds, passing her daughter a handful of silverware so they can set the dinner table.

“Oh God, mom if this is some politician asking for a donation, I can’t–”

“No politicians,” Dorinda interjects. “Naveen is in Baltimore for a few days, so we invited him to have dinner with us.”

Dr. Naveen Banerji has been friends with Naomi’s dad for as long as she can remember. While Naveen was doing his residency at Sinai Hospital in Baltimore, Steven Valentine came in for a broken arm, and they’ve been close friends ever since, even when Naveen had to move to Boston.

Naomi adores the older man, and it doesn’t hurt that he’s one of the best doctors in the country.

“Why didn’t you just lead with that?” Naomi asks.

Dorinda shrugs. “I wanted to see if you could leave that apartment of yours without external motivation.”

“And I did,” Naomi says. “I want a medal.”

“And I want a private island somewhere in the Caribbean.”

There’s a knock at the door that startles them out of their banter. Before either one of them can reach the door, Naomi’s dad beats them to it.

“Naveen, you old man!” Steven greets. “How are you?”

“If I’m old, you’re ancient!” Naveen shoots back with a chuckle. His eyes fall on Dorinda and Naomi, who have joined them in the foyer. “Dorinda! You’re as lovely as ever.”

“Naveen, it’s so wonderful to see you again.”

“And Naomi, I haven’t seen you since your med school graduation.” Naveen sizes her younger before hugging her. “Gosh, I can’t believe you’re so grown up now. What happened to the little 5 year old who used to quiz me on the periodic table?”

“Hi, Naveen,” Naomi greets brightly.

“It smells delicious in here. Don’t tell me you made a huge fuss over me, Dorinda.”

“What? It’s not every day we get to see you.” Dorinda takes Naveen’s coat. “Go sit down, you’re here just in time. Dinner will be out in 10 minutes, tops.”

It doesn’t even take that long, and soon the Valentine family plus Naveen are all gathered around the dining room table, passing around bowls and platters of food.

“So Naveen, I heard you got a promotion recently and you’re now the Chief of Medicine at Edenbrook.”

“Yeah, my days of practicing are over.”

“Do you like the job?” Naomi asks.

Naveen nods. “I love it. I have more free time, which is a plus. And there’s still so much to do, so it fuels the adrenaline junky in me. What about you, Dr. Valentine?” He smiles. “What’s it like being an attending?”

“Demanding,” Naomi answers.

“Any interesting cases recently?”

“No.” Naomi‘s girl scrapes across her plate as she awkwardly shuffles her food around. “I, uh...I’m on a personal leave right now. I haven’t been to the hospital in weeks.”

Naveen knows all about the nasty divorce, so he nods sympathetically and doesn’t press the subject. “You were chief resident last year, right?”

“Yes, sir.”

“She’s being modest,” Dorinda says. “She was at the top of her cohort.”

“Of course she was.” Naveen takes a sip of his drink, but his eyes are still trained on Naomi, wheels turning. “How do you like the hospital you’re working at?”

“It’s good.”

“Do you think that it’s the best fit for you? Are you being pushed to your limits? Are your superiors still checking in with you? You’re an attending now, but they should still care about your development.”

Naomi feels overwhelmed by the onslaught of questions. What is this, a job interview?

“Slow down Naveen, what’s with the interrogation?”

“What? I care about you, and I care about your potential. I just hope it’s not being wasted.”

“It’s not,” Naomi assures him.

“You know, there will always be a standing invitation for you to join the team at Edenbrook,” Naveen tells her.

A wide grin forms on Dorinda’s face and before Naomi can respond, she does. “She accepts!”

And that’s when the lightbulb turns on above Naomi’s head. She glances from Naveen to her parents. “Did you guys set this up?”

Naveen raises an eyebrow at the question. “What do you mean?”

“Did my parents ask you to come here and give me a job offer?”

“No, I’m here because I have a conference to attend in Baltimore tomorrow, so I thought I’d drop in. No one asked me to give you a job offer. You’re intelligent, you’re compassionate, you’re a good doctor, and I wouldn’t be a very smart Chief if I didn’t at least try to poach you for myself.”

“And she accepts!” Dorinda continues.

“Mom, stop it!” Naomi scolds.

“You’ll get a chance to work with me,” Naveen adds. “You’ll get a chance to work with Dr. Ethan Ramsey, my protege. We’re a level 1 trauma center, and Boston is a gorgeous city.”

The last thing Naomi needs right now is a new job in a new city, not while her life is in complete shambles. Besides, her entire life is in DC. It’s where her entire support system resides. Functioning without them sounds daunting.

“I really appreciate the offer Naveen, but that is definitely a lot to take in and consider.”

“Of course, I understand. I didn’t mean to put you on the spot, nor do I expect any sort of answer.” Naveen sighs. “How much longer are you going to be off of work?”

“A few more weeks.”

“How about you come to Boston, and at least check out the hospital?” He suggests. “No strings attached, and you can stay at my lake house because I’m hardly ever there and there’s tons of space, so someone should enjoy it. At the very least, I think seeing it will at least be a fun experience and a nice vacation.”

“If I say yes to the trip, can we pause this conversation for the rest of the evening?”

Naveen nods. “I think that’s a fair exchange.”

“Then you have yourself a deal.”

Naomi relaxes and slouches slightly in her seat. When she gets home later on, she has a mission to complete: research the hell out of Boston and Edenbrook Hospital.

~v~

Boston is a beautiful city full of history, culture, and interesting attractions. Naomi appreciates the hustle and bustle of the city life, and the fact that everyone is always on the go – a vast difference from the quiet and serenity of Naveen’s lake house in Plymouth.

And Edenbrook is an entirely different beast. It is much larger than she expects, as the pictures don’t do it justice. The building is at least 7 stories tall to her naked eye, sleek and modern.

Naomi silently marvels as she watches doctors and nurses bustle around, chatting quietly amongst each other.

“Wow.” Is all she can say.

“She’s a beaut, isn’t she?” Naveen asks rhetorically, smiling at Naomi’s childlike wonder.

“This hospital is amazing,” is what she finally settles on when words finally come back to her.

“Follow me, we have an unofficial tour to go on.”

Naomi follows Naveen through the hospital. She struggles to keep up as she tries to memorize the complex layout, because this hospital is large and built like a multi-level maze. 

Naveen rattles off information and fun facts as they pass through the pediatric department, they stop to stare at the newborns in labor and delivery, all small and wriggly, and they even manage to sneak into the OR to watch Harper Emery perform a craniotomy, something Naomi compares to a religious experience.

“I can’t believe I just watched The Harper Emery perform surgery!” Naomi squeals with delight as she and Naveen step out of the gallery and leave the OR. “Please tell me that wasn’t a dream.”

“I didn’t peg you for a surgery fanatic,” Naveen teases.

Naomi scoffs. “I’m not, but I respect Dr. Emery. You don’t have to be a basketball fan to appreciate that Michael Jordan is one of the greats.”

“That’s a fair comparison.”

The two of them continue their leisurely stroll around the hospital, making their way to the internal medicine department.

“This is where you’d spend a good chunk of your time, if you wanted to work here, of course.”

“Is it a large department?” Naomi asks quietly. There are a few patients filling out paperwork ahead of their appointments and she doesn’t want to disturb them.

“It is. We have a lot of doctors here so you can spend that extra one-on-one time with your patients, and you aren’t just rushing them out the door to get to your next appointment.”

“That’s good to know.”

Naveen’s pager goes off and he checks it before sighing. “The life of a Chief is never dull. I have to go take care of something downstairs, but I’ll be back as soon as possible. Do you think you can occupy yourself in the meantime?”

“Of course.” Naomi shoos him away. “Take your time.”

“Thank you. I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

Naomi watches as he walks away, until she can no longer see him through the crowds of people. Once he’s truly gone, she continues her slow stroll through the halls.

Edenbrook seems like an amazing hospital and a great place to work, but she’s not sure if she can see herself staying.

Can she really pack up and move more than 400 miles away from her entire family, and the only life she’s ever known? And is she the type to run away when life gets tough? What will everyone say? “Oh, poor girl gets left by her husband and had to flee the city.”

But what’s stopping you? The little voice in her head asks, and it’s technically right. She looks down at her left hand, zeroing in on the ring-less finger with a deep tan line, a very prominent reminder of what’s definitely not waiting for her back in DC. No husband, no kids, nothing but an empty and quiet condo.

When she filed for divorce, Naomi swore to herself that running off to city hall to get married would be the first and last wild and impulsive thing she’d ever do. And taking a job offer on a whim in Boston is teetering dangerously close to that “wild and reckless” category.

But she’s pulled out of her thoughts when someone gasps loudly beside her. Whipping her head around, Naomi watches as a middle aged woman falls out of her seat and collapses onto the ground.

That sends the waiting area into a frenzy as fellow patients panic and crowd around the woman like she’s some sort of zoo exhibit, and nurses try their best to assess the situation and ask for help.

“Everyone, step back!” Naomi orders, a serious expression covering her face. “I’m a doctor!”

Before Naomi can even reach the woman, another doctor rushes over, kneeling down beside her. He lifts her wrist and pressed two fingers to it. 

“Her pulse isn’t weak. She’s unresponsive.”

His face scans the crowd and Naomi inwardly gasps as she realizes that it's Ethan freaking Ramsey! In any other situation, she’d be freaking out and fan-girling over him.

He spots her and points. “You. Get in here.”

Naomi bites down on her tongue and resists the urge to get snappy with him. She’s not a puppy that can get summoned on command. But she remembers that a woman’s life is on the line and her own hang ups can wait.

“Right away, Doctor!”

With practiced ease, Ethan lifts the woman up and places her on a gurney that’s been rolled over by a nurse. Within seconds, Naomi is at his side.

“What was she coming in for?” He asks, hoping someone can answer his question. “Did she fill out a form yet?”

A nurse clears his throat before answering, “No, she had just walked in.”

That’s not the answer Ethan was hoping for and he frowns. “If we don’t figure out what’s wrong with her fast, she’s gonna die on this gurney.” He spares a quick glance at Naomi. “Check her B.P.”

A nurse hands Naomi a blood pressure cuff and she slips on around the woman’s arm. After pumping it a few times, she checks the numbers. They’re horrible.

“It’s plummeting. She’s hypotensive,” she explains. “We’ve gotta get fluids in her, now.”

Ethan nods, agreeing with the assessment. Another nurse sets up an I.V. while Naomi checks over the woman once more. She notices a bruise on her elbow, one that wasn’t there a minute ago, and her fingertips are turning blue.

“Doctor, look at her fingers,” Naomi says, getting Ethan’s attention. “I think it’s a sign of low oxygen saturation.”

Ethan raises an eyebrow. “You think or you know? We really don’t have time for the guessing game.”

“I know,” Naomi assures him, her tone coming out rougher than she intended. She’s not a fan of being second guessed, especially by someone who specifically requested her to assist.

“Good. Did you notice the bruise?” Naomi nods. “A bruise forming that quickly suggests that this woman is a hemophiliac.” Ethan slides his stethoscope from around his neck and hands it to Naomi. “Check her lungs, quickly.”

Naomi does what she’s told and takes a closer listen to her woman’s lungs. 

“Nothing on her left side, and the right side is struggling. She’s going to suffocate!”

Oh God, how did she get roped into this? This was supposed to be a relaxing vacation away from all of the stress of her life, now Naomi is watching a woman suffocate to death.

Dr. Ramsey isn’t having the same struggle as she is, as he remains calm, though everyone around them is on high alert. “We’ve got a Code Blue,” he says, his voice steady. A nurse hands him a bag mask and he starts delivering air to the woman.

Naomi watches as he does that, trying to remain calm. She closes her eyes and attempts to steady her thoughts, and figure out what’s wrong with the woman.

“Hey, either help out or leave, but I don’t need you here doing nothing,” Ethan says, interrupting her thoughts.

Naomi flinches a bit at the interruption, but she continues thinking. Low oxygen, hemophilia, deflated lungs. What could it possibly be?

As she’s going through the options, it hits her. “It’s a hemothorax!”

Ethan nods, confirming the diagnosis. “A blood vessel ruptured…”

“...and it’s blocking her lungs from expanding any further,” Naomi finishes. She looks around. They’re in a crowded waiting room, not the OR. “But we can’t do anything here!”

“There’s no time to get her to the OR, we’ll have to do an emergency thoracotomy to drain her pleural cavity.” Ethan points to a nurse. “You! I need a chest tube and a scalpel, now!”

A nurse rushes over immediately, placing the items in Naomi’s hands. She barely has time to register the fact that she’s about to perform an emergency procedure on an unconscious woman, and she’s not even supposed to be in doctor-mode today before Ethan is lifting the woman’s shirt 

“We’re gonna need a local anesthetic to–”

“We don’t have time for any of that!” Ethan snaps. “Do it now, or she’s going to die, and it’ll be on you!”

Naomi gulps and wills herself to calm down. Her pulse is racing and she can hear her heart beating in her ears.

But she breathes deeply. She doesn’t have time to panic, not when there’s a life on the line. She steadies her hand, and makes the incision at the woman’s rib cage.

“There you go, nice and easy,” Dr. Ramsey coaches. “Now insert the tube.”

Naomi insets the chest tube into the incision. Slowly but surely, the blood starts draining out of the woman’s chest, and she gasps, breathing again.

The woman, now conscious again, mutters something unintelligible, but she’s alive and that’s all that matters.

“We...we did it.”

The older physician ignores Naomi, instead turning to the nurse that’s been helping them. “She’s stable. Get her into surgery, but she’s stable.”

“Right away, Doctor.”

The nurses take the patient away, while the crowd applauds them for the heroic save. Eventually the crowd disperses, everyone going back to what they were previously doing.

The relief that floods through Naomi’s body is all-consuming. She hasn’t felt this euphoric in a long time. And to experience it with someone as amazing as Doctor Ramsey only elevates things. Doctors can only dream of working with him, and she actually got to do it, even if it was on a whim.

Maybe working at Edenbrook isn’t such a bad idea.

She turns back to Ethan, a giddy grin wide across her face. “Doctor...that was…amazing!”

“You’re right. It’s pretty amazing you didn’t get her killed.”

That takes the wind out of her sails almost instantly. “Wait, what?”

“Your examination was slow and superficial. And your scalpel technique?” He scoffs in derision. “Amateur at best.”

“Who the hell do you think you are?” Naomi asks. “I’m sorry, I’m not at work today, this entire situation threw me for a loop, and a waiting room definitely isn’t a proper setting to do any of what we just did. And if I’m so amateur at my job, what prevented you from stepping in at any time since you’re so much better than I am? Because if my recollection is correct, I did most of the work, while you stood there like some glorified overseer.”

“You’re the one who yelled out that you were a doctor. I wanted to test your mettle.”

Her blood boils in her veins at his words. So this is why they say never meet your heroes. Because they turn out to be righteous assholes.

“My mettle is just fine. You say it’s a miracle I didn’t kill her, I say she’s alive because of me. And another thing, I don’t need you testing my mettle when a patient’s life is on the line. Next time, save the little power trip.”

Ethan’s nostrils flare at her words. No doctor in their right mind has ever spoken to him like this. He stares down at the woman, almost a foot shorter than him, and she’s staring up at him with just as much intensity. “Now I don’t know who you think–”

“Naomi, there you are!”

Ethan’s tirade is cut short by the sound of Naveen’s voice echoing through the halls. He looks up to see his mentor and boss headed towards them.

“I’m sorry that took longer than expected Naomi,” Naveen says once he’s finally close enough. He looks her up and down. Her blouse and pants are ruined, covered in that woman’s blood. “Hue hat happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine Naveen,” Naomi assures him. “It’s not mine. And it’s a very long story, one I’ll tell you once I’m out of these clothes.”

“Very well.”

Ethan watches as the two of them casually converse. He’s known Naveen for well over a decade, and not once has he seen or heard of this woman. How does Naveen know her well enough for them to be on a first name basis?

“You two know each other?” He asks, interrupting their conversation.

Naveen nods. “Oh yes, we go way back. Ethan, this is Dr. Naomi Valentine. Naomi, this is Dr. Ethan Ramsey.”

Naomi gives Ethan a tight smile. She’s no longer in the mood for pleasantries. “Charmed.”

“Likewise, Dr. Valentine.”

“Naomi here is from DC, and I’m trying to convince her to come to Edenbrook,” Naveen explains. He knows better than anyone how much Naomi admires Ethan’s work. Maybe he’ll be able to help him convince the younger woman to accept a job at Edenbrook. “It’s so perfect that you guys met and became acquainted, because I actually think she’d be an excellent addition to the diagnostics team.”

Ethan’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline at that statement. “What?”

[salthaven]

Make A Change: P8

Part Eight

    After her chat with, well, Chat, Marinette had gone to bed with a lot on her mind. She couldn’t help but think of Chat Noir’s words, of how distressed he’d seemed when she’d told him of her transfer.

    Marinette spent way too long staring at her phone, contemplating if she should call Adrien. Because it was obvious that he’d been the one to bug Chat Noir, he’d been the one to ask about her to the cat hero. It was touching, she supposed.

    She never called. Instead, she turned to Tikki. Tikki just smiled that soft, patient smile, and said that Marinette should get some sleep. So she did.

    Now, on a perfectly average Tuesday morning, Marinette is back at her new school. She heads to her first hour, not wanting to be late. Félix is there as well, and he nods to her before returning his attention to his book. Marinette sits beside him and begins to draw, passing the time before class quickly. It’s quiet, and peaceful, and the first time in forever that Marinette could wake up without someone talking her ear off. It’s a nice change in pace, beside her new friend.

    When class starts, it’s simple. Mr. Marcel assigns some worksheets and readings, and tells them to work in silence.

    “You’re not the only ones who are sleep deprived,” he mutters, laying his head on his desk. “If you…” he yawns. “If you’re quiet enough, you can work with the person next to you.” Then he falls asleep.

    Marinette blinks, then looks to Félix. “Is...is Mr. Marcel always like this?”

    Félix snorts, how he does it without noise is lost on Marinette. “He falls asleep about half of the time. But when he’s awake, he’s awake.”

    Marinette giggles, remembering how yesterday had gone. Mr. Marcel had been a bundle of energy, excitedly telling the room about their revolution. He’d gotten so caught up in his rant on the outfits (Marinette already liked him), that he’d cursed out the bell when it rang. “I look forward to the rest of the year, then.”

    Félix smiles. “Me, too. Here, let’s get to work.”

    “Right! Do you want to do the first half or the second half?”

    “The second half is mainly about uniforms, aren’t you a fashion designer?”

    “Yeah?”

    Félix nods. “I’ll do the first half.”

    Marinette can’t help but beam. “Thanks!” A few people shush her, and she blushes. 

    Félix spares a glance to the rest of the class, then returns his gaze to her. “You’ll learn quick, but we really don’t want to wake Mr. Marcel on these days. He’s vicious.”

    “How bad?”

    “As brutal as Syren and Stormy Weather.”

    Marinette raises an eyebrow at Félix’s deadpan expression. “Waking him is as bad as two Akumas that could cause natural disasters that almost killed all of Paris, if not the whole world?”

    Félix shrugs. “No, it’s just total fucking chaos.” He turns to his paper, beginning to read. After a few seconds, however, he looks back up to see Marinette gaping at him. “What?”

    “Sorry I...I didn’t think you were the type to swear.” Marinette blushes. “That was a dumb assumption, sorry.”

    He smiles. “I hear that a lot. I suppose I have a tendency to surprise people. A lot of people make assumptions after hearing a few things about me.” He shrugs again. “I let them think what they want, it’s more fun this way.”

    Marinette giggles. “Wow, master of deception right here.”

    “I try my best.” 

    They barely get the work done before class ends. When the bell rings, Mr. Marcel doesn’t wake up. Nobody seems surprised, so Marinette heads to Language Arts. 

    Allegra is already there when Marinette arrives, so Marinette slides into the seat beside her. 

    “Good morning, Allegra!” Marinette says happily. “How are you?”

    Allegra smiles sweetly. “I’m great, sunbeam, how about you?”

    Marinette blinks. “I’m doing well! But, uh, sunbeam?”

    Allegra nods. “You are such a sweet ray of sunshine, the name seemed fitting.”

    “I’ve never heard that one, so thank you?” Marinette thinks back to her old class, and says, “One of my classmates was called sunshine boy, though.”

    “Really? How could he surpass you for the title?” Allegra asks with brimming curiosity. “He must have been the definition of joy to get it!”

    “Well, he was always happy, but I think it’s because he was blond,” Marinette admits. “Adrien was always looking for peace, even when...even when it was better that he didn’t.” She winces, shoving away the thoughts.

    Allegra picks up on the wince, but for the wrong reason. “Adrien? Is he an ex of yours?”

    Marinette snorts. “Not an ex, I was ‘just a friend’ in his eyes.”

    Allegra winces, too. “Ooh, one sided love. It is always a tragedy.” 

    “Disappointing, maybe, but not a tragedy. I knew it was time to move on when I realized it would never work out, so...here I am.”

    “You changed schools to get away from a boy?!” Allegra shouts, and a few of their classmates turn to face Marinette, who blushes.

    “No! I transferred to...to get away from my whole class. It’s complicated!” Marinette says, before Allegra can question her reasoning. “I just wanted to get away from all of that. It wasn’t a good place for me.”

    “I see. That makes sense,” Allegra concedes.

    “Makes sense?”

    “Didn’t you come from the Akuma school?” Allegra waits for a response, but continues when Marinette just tilts her head in confusion. “Weren’t, I forget the exact number, forgive me, about twenty Akumas from your school alone?”

    Marinette flinches. “That...that sounds accurate.” Especially when she considers the two biggest reasons she left the school, and that they both had multiple Akuma forms. Yeah...she really did go to the Akuma school. 

    (Really, shouldn’t that be a sign that there might be something wrong with the school? Like a habit of victim blaming and unchecked bullies? No? Alright.)

    Allegra smiles kindly. “Well, at least you’re here now! You should be safer, right?”

    Fate isn’t kind to those who tempt her, and a sudden scream alerts them of the fickle mistress of life.

    “A pop quiz? On a Tuesday? Who does that?!” In storms an Akuma, who clutches all sorts of note cards and loose papers. “Not anymore, I say! I am PaperCut, and I will cut this senseless negativity out of my life forever!” Laughing maniacally, the boy sends some of the papers at the classmates like projectiles. The class scatters, racing for any available exit. Allegra darts through the back door of the room, some jump through the open windows. Marinette glances around, seeing how PaperCut approaches her desk...then looks up. She sees that a tile in the ceiling wasn’t put all the way in, and if she jumps-

    “Hey! Leave her alone!” Mr. Jean shouts, and it’s all the distraction Marinette needs. She climbs onto her desk and leaps up, grabbing onto the ceiling. Using all of the strength she’s gained during her time as Paris’s heroine, she pulls herself up, until she’s out of sight. Quickly, the bluenette scrambles away, looking for a way out of the ceiling. A few minutes later, she finds a light and pushes out the tile, letting herself fall down.

    She lands in the bathroom. The currently filled boys’ bathroom. All of them shriek when they see her, and she races out yelling apologies. She shoves her way into the girls’ bathroom, which is, luckily, completely empty.

    “That was a close save!” Tikki says. 

    “I’m just glad I could make that jump,” Marinette admits. “I wasn’t sure if I would be able to pull myself up. But that’s not important right now! Tikki, spots on!”

    A flash of pink covers her, and Ladybug darts back out, already calling for Chat Noir. 

    No response.

    “Come on,” Ladybug mutters as she hears a crashing. It seems she’s found the Akuma.

    PaperCut storms into the hall as a teacher runs away, yelling profanities. “Yeah, try to outrun me you foul bast-”

    “Now, we all know foul language isn’t allowed in a place like this,” Ladybug chides, cutting him off. 

    PaperCut glares at her. “You’re trying to stop me, aren’t you? Well I’m not going back! I’m not taking a stupid physics test!” He raises his arm and throws more notes at her.

    “I’m sure it will be fine,” Ladybug tries to soothe him, but it’s a bit tricky when she’s more focused on dodging paper projectiles. “You’ll do better than you think!”

    “I don’t even know how to measure circles!” PaperCut shouts in frustration, and Ladybug pauses.

    “Isn’t that geometry?” She asks, and PaperCut throws his hands in the air.

    “How am I supposed to know?” He lunges at her, and she leaps out of the way. She looks for her partner, where is he?

    “I think everything will go purr-fectly!” Chat says as he rounds the corner, and Ladybug sighs in relief. “And besides, there’s always next time!”

    “Next time doesn’t matter! What matters is right now! And right now, I’m going to take you two down.” He raises a hand to throw more papers-

    And falls over.

    Ladybug looks up, surprised to find...Félix? He stands there, a textbook in his hands.

    “Knowledge is power, Ladybug,” Félix says, then picks up a glowing purple flashcard. “I think this is the Akumatized object.”

    “Cataclysm?” Chat reaches out and taps the object, and Ladybug catches the Akuma before it can flutter away. In seconds, any damage is undone, and the victim scurries off, muttering about gravity.

    “Thank you…” Ladybug forces herself to hesitate.

    “Félix.” He looks around. “Have you seen Marinette?” 

    “Marinette?” Chat perks up, eyes widening. “She goes here now?”

    Félix nods slowly, and Ladybug can see the confusion in his eyes. “Yes. It’s her second day. My friend, Allegra, texted me. PaperCut stormed into their class, and Allegra couldn’t get ahold of her. Have either of you seen her?” 

    Ladybug smiles, trying to be calm. “Yeah! She was hiding in the ceiling, last I checked!”

    “The ceiling?!” 

    Ladybug shrugs. “She’s a smart girl.”

    Chat sighs wistfully. “Yeah she is. That’s my Princess.” 

    Ladybug isn’t sure how to feel, and Félix seems just as confused. Chat’s ring finally beeps, giving him a cue to leave. 

    “I’ll see you later, bugaboo!” Chat says cheerfully, then darts to a classroom and leaps out of the window. 

    Ladybug smiles at Félix. “I have to go, but if I see Marinette I’ll tell her it’s safe to head back.”

    “Thank you.” 

    Ladybug nods, then darts away. Once out of view, she leaps into the ceiling before detransforming, then crawls back to her classroom. She lets herself fall down, scaring Allegra.

    At lunch, she’s greeted by two unamused faces.

    “Really, the ceiling?” Félix asks, and all Marinette can do is shrug.

    It’s, in other words, a rather normal day for Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

~~~

After a long wait, I finally was able to make another part!!!

Tags: @domena151 @fatimaabbasrizvi @blackcanary13 @7-sage-7 @chez-pezeater @captainmac6 @riarkle-felinettelove @crazylittlemunchkin @vixen-uchiha @goggle-mcgee @legendaryneckjudgestudent @demigodgirl20031 @interobanginyourmom @crayrandomrebel @tinybrie @positive-growth @northernbluetongue @sweetkyoka @hypnosharkrebeldreamer @schrodinger25 @celestialtitania @athenalovesredsblog @magnitude101999 @kristycocopop @melicmusicmagic @poshplumcot @ur-average-reader @dani-ari @ginamarie1512 @kuroko26 @ayuchan07 @hnbutt @minightrose @mochinek0

[voreconnoisseur]

Ob.ey Me! Be.el/MC(Reader)

Soft, safe vore with some initial fearplay before turning into fluff. I fixed the formatting.

You’d been witness to the last time someone had carelessly messed with the books in Satan’s room. He and Lucifer had ended up temporarily switching bodies, freaking everyone out in the process. Luckily, everything had worked out in the end, but you were afraid you would not be so lucky with your situation.

You’d borrowed a stack of books from Satan’s room (that is to say, you got Mammon to steal them without asking) in a frantic effort to pull an all-nighter for a quiz in Devildom History. Lately Lucifer had been praising you about how great of an example you were to his brothers, and you were kind of scared about how peeved he’d be if you suddenly dropped in marks. You’d made a big mistake, however, as one of the books once again had a curse on it. (Why were so many objects randomly cursed around here? Perhaps such was simply the nature of demons.)

The book had casted a hex on you that shrunk you down to about half the size of your D.D.D.. To add insult to injury, it had almost crushed you after the fact. And unfortunately, your D.D.D. hadn’t shrunk with you, since you’d had it over on the table while you were reading. And you could no longer reach that table, because you were now on the floor.

You were starting to think your study session was not going to happen.

You made your way over to the door of your room, which you had thankfully not closed completely. You were able to squeeze through the small space between the door at the frame with little effort. Now, to find someone to help you...

Not Satan. He’d probably just step on you for taking his things. Lucifer would likely do the same, or maybe something even worse somehow. You briefly considered talking to Levi as well, but you got the feeling that he might try to dress you up like a figurine or something. That left Mammon, Asmo, Beel, and Belphie. Whoever you encountered first.

You had a long stretch of hallway ahead of you.

***

After what felt like hours of trekking (but was probably more like 20 minutes), you saw someone emerge from their room down the hall.

Beel!

You waved your arms frantically and ran toward him. At the time, he was drawing closer to you. You were in such a hurry that you crashed into his foot. Thankfully, he noticed you instead of stepping on you.

The world lurched as Beel snatched you up and brought you close to his face.

“What’s that? Why would someone leave a dumpling out here?” he asked aloud, licking his lips. It was then that you’d noticed the familiar glossy state his violet eyes were in. You’d caught him looking like this many times before, staking out the kitchen to try and prevent him from eating all the food. Beel sleepwalked sometimes. And worse still—sleep-ate.

Oh no.

You squirmed in his hand, trying to get him to realize what he was doing.

“BEELZEBUB! It’s me! Not a dumpling!”

But he was already placing your tiny body into his mouth.

The demon’s lips closed around your legs, which he then pulled into his mouth with a quick slurp. Trapped now between Beel’s jaws, you cold feel his tongue tasting you, covering you in saliva. He let out a soft moan, still deep in his trance.

“Mmmphhh... ssho good.”

His tongue flipped you over and you panicked as you realized he was pushing you toward his teeth. You grasped tightly onto the muscle, and somehow barely managed to squirm out of the way of the grinding death trap to your side.

Beel’s mouth was filling up quickly with saliva. Before you even had a chance to breathe after your brush with death, or call out again, the tongue you were grasping shifted. And it was far too slick for you to hold on.

Beel swallowed. Hard. The saliva drained away behind you, and shortly after, you could feel your legs following suit. Strong and *very well practiced* muscles dragged you downward. You frantically grasped upward at Beel’s tongue, trying to hold on, but your hands were slippery, like everything else.

“No, no no no, BEEL! Stop!”

Instead, he swallowed again, forcing you all the way down into his throat. Peristalsis pulled you deeper, kneading at your body and making it difficult to breathe. Eventually, you hit Beel’s empty stomach with a splash.

This was the worst possible place you could be. Knowing Beelzebub, the Avatar of Gluttony, you’d be digested in minutes, maybe even seconds, leaving his stomach empty once again. You’d seen him eat and presumably digest inedible objects occasionally. There probably wouldn’t even be a trace of your clothing or bones.

Poor Beel wouldn’t even realize what he’d done.

The thought broke your heart. That was the last straw. You started kicking up a fuss, determined to make it out alive, and as soon as possible. You punched and kicked at the stomach walls, only to have them clench tight around you. Curse his rock solid abs!

Beel still didn’t seem to have noticed your predicament. You kept squirming, briefly wondering if he had ever eaten anything else alive. Beel was a kind soul, but you still weren’t entirely sure it was beneath him to pop something alive in his mouth, provided it tasted good, just to sate his hunger. He was a demon, after all. Would he even let you out if you did get his attention?

No. You were friends. Of course he would.

Suddenly, Beel spoke up again, flooding you with relief.

“Wait, what’s happening? Oof, my stomach...”

You could feel a new pressure against you, as if something was pressed up against Beel from the outside. If he said anything like “I’m hungry” with a stomach full of you, you would immediately flip your lid.

“Beel! In here!” you cried.

“Y/N? Where are you?”

“I’m in your gut, stupid!” You gave another shove, hoping he’d be awake enough to connect the dots.

“Ow... In my... Why are you in my stomach? How did this happen?”

“I got shrunk by one of Satan’s books and ran into you. And you were half asleep. You ATE me, Beel. Now please, let me out before I die in here!”

You felt Beel’s stomach tighten around you again. Despite the slickness, you were held pretty firmly in place.

“That might be a problem.”

“What? Why?!” You managed to force yourself to shout despite the pressure on you. “Just make yourself throw up or something!”

“I don’t throw up food that has gone down into my stomach. I don’t think I even could if I tried.” You remembered Beel had mentioned this a few times before, but at the time, it hadn’t been nearly as life threatening. You’d thought it was a joke, and now...

You could feel Beelzebub’s heartbeat above you speeding up. He was probably just as worried as you were, though he was rather stoic and didn’t always show his worries in his tone of voice.

“But I’m not food, Beel. Try anyway. It can’t hurt.”

You were squeezed and thrown about as Beel doubled over, coughing and hacking, trying his hardest to get you out, but nothing worked. Eventually, you could hear him slump to the floor, breathing heavily. You fell, too, to the squishy bottom of the organ you were entombed in.

“It’s no use. I can’t do it. I’m sorry...”

You felt awful for Beel; even more awful than you did for yourself. This really wasn’t his fault. It was just how his body worked. You weren’t ready to give up yet, though. You gave Beel your best attempt at a belly rub to make him feel better (you knew how much he liked them, though you weren’t sure how it would feel from the inside). As you ran your hands over the soft ripples of his stomach, you spoke.

“It’s ok. I know you didn’t mean to do this. I’m sorry for calling you stupid, too. It’s going to be alright. Let’s find someone to help us; I bet Lucifer will know what to do.” Beel moaned at the suggestion.

“Lucifer is going to kill me for putting you in danger. That’s not even an exaggeration.” You were pretty sure Lucifer WOULD kill Beel over this, but maybe once you were out you could convince him otherwise. You kept massaging Beel and added:

“We can deal with that later. I’ll stand up for you. Though, I won’t be able to stand up too tall... Anyway, he’ll definitely help me out, even if just for the sake of the exchange program.”

“Alright. Let’s go wake him up.”

***

“...And that’s what happened.” Beel sighed, having explained the situation.

Lucifer was silent for a moment, and then spoke, a familiar edge creeping into his voice.

“Were it any of our other brothers, I would assume this was some kind of asinine prank in poor taste, but seeing as it’s you, Beelzebub, and at this hour, I believe it. Come here.”

You could feel something push against where you laid, and you could hear Lucifer’s voice emanating from the spot, so you could assume he had put his ear up to Beel’s belly to hear you. As he did, it happened to let out a loud groan, almost as if in protest.

“...Y/n? Are you still alive?”

“I’m okay!” you called out. “Just a bit stuck.”

“You’re not hurt?”

“No, I’m fine actually.”

“Then stand back. I’m going to cut you out.” The ”edge” had taken over Lucifer’s voice. He was definitely pissed, but this wasn’t fair! You didn’t want anyone to get hurt.

“Wait!” you cried. Beel’s organs had become very tense again, his body preparing for the upcoming disembowelment. You knew he wouldn’t fight back, either. You had to stop this now.

“It was my fault. I was the one who stole Satan’s books. Don’t cut open your own brother just because I did something stupid.”

“...You’re right. I did expect better from you, Y/N. I have an idea.” You could feel Lucifer’s head move away, and then his hand give a few quick taps to the spot it once rested. “I think I’ll leave you in there for a few more hours as punishment.”

“Won’t Y/N die!?” Beel objected.

“No. The curse they’re under is intended to be a deterrent to thieves, not a death curse. It’s supposed to make the victim too small to take anything. The purpose would be defeated if they were swiftly killed by being stepped on or something like that. They should be immune to any bodily harm until it wears off.”

“But if it wears off while I’m still inside—“

“It won’t. Come back tomorrow, and I’ll have Barbatos teleport you out. In the meantime, I’m going to have a good night’s sleep.”

There was no use arguing with Lucifer. You slumped to the soft, slick bottom of the sack you were in and stared blindly upward at the roof of what would be your new home for the next few hours.

“I’ll come back tomorrow, then.” Beel said dejectedly. You felt him move to leave and let the swaying of his body relax you. At the very least, neither of you were going to die. You weren’t particularly uncomfortable, either.

***

You waited until Beel had returned to his room and sat down (presumably, you couldn’t see). You felt him press his hand against you rather delicately before addressing you.

“Belphie’s out somewhere right now, which is probably for the best. I don’t know if I could face him right now...” You could understand. You’d rather it just be the two of you anyway. You pushed your tiny hands up to his, wondering if he could feel it at all through the layers of flesh. “Are you okay in there? I don’t know if there’s anything I can do if you’re not.”

“I’m completely fine,” you replied, and it was the truth. “It’s pretty comfy in here, actually. What about you, Beel? I’m more worried about you. I did kick you a bit, after all.” You were squeezed gently as Beel laughed quietly.

“I don’t think anything you could do would upset my stomach.” He paused for a moment. “Actually, if anything, it feels really nice having you there. I don’t feel hungry at all. Is this what it’s like to feel full?”

You couldn’t answer that. Instead, you started to rub Beel’s stomach walls again, hoping he’d find the feeling pleasant. You were starting to really appreciate the texture of your surroundings: it was warm and soft, and now that you weren’t in any danger, you felt extremely safe inside the demon you’d made a pact with. You ran your hands in large circles, over and over again, letting the repetition and quiet gurgling soothe you into almost a trance.

“That feels... really nice...”

You noticed in the darkness that you were slowly beginning to be able to see something. Beel’s stomach had a soft red glow that appeared when you rubbed it, almost as if it were blushing. You were glad you were hidden from sight, as you were certain you were blushing a bit too. It was probably some kind of magic to do with his being the Avatar of Gluttony. It didn’t make you feel uneasy or anything, so instead you just appreciated the fact you could now see a little.

“I guess I can’t study anymore for that test tomorrow,” you complained. “Well, if I fail, I fail. There are worse reasons I could have failed it.”

“Wait, what test—“

Beel was interrupted by someone opening the bedroom door. You suddenly heard Belphegor’s voice, full of suspicion, question:

“Beel, who are you talking to?”

[signor-signor]

Trending 27th - January 2020

What have been your efforts in the campaign for SaveWOY and what are your upcoming plans to save WOY? Now this is a question worth answering!

In the past, I made a little list of the things I did to support SaveWOY and bring awareness to Wander Over Yonder’s existence and its third season plans. Since then, I’ve done a whole lot more from hand-drawn art to more intricate art. Some of them are almost as special as that signed poster @peepsqueak got from the WOY crew as a token of their gratitude.

Here’s an updated list of everything I did for SaveWOY so far:

Attended the SaveWOY picnic at Griffith Park, where I got to sign a banner.

Pointed out various higher-ups involved in the business of Disney television.

Sent several letters to the higher-ups, some of which had envelopes with an image of the downed space pod taped to them.

Started a weekly Twitter post series, SaveWOY Thought of the Week.

Made Lite-Brite art of Wander and Lord Hater, which Craig McCracken and Francisco Angones liked.

Attended D23 2017 with an Operation: FORCE drawing of Hater, a colored page of Wander and Sylvia and a few facts about WOY, and an orange pen with a green hat (I got the hat from the aforementioned picnic) - there, I signed a bench with Wander and the phrase, “Never hurts to help.”

Signed my name, drew Wander (and my own character, Jacken DeBox), and wrote, “Happiest place in outer space!” on the highest beam for Star Wars: Galaxy’s Edge.

Wrote a letter (and drew Wander) for the victims of the Las Vegas tragedy with the message, “The darkest times call for the sunniest smiles!”

Got Craig to reveal the name of the ship (said to play a BIG part in S3, made a cameo in Future-Worm) when I commented that we’d have to figure out the name - his response: “The ship is called The Star Nomad.”

Wrote a couple of cards to two Disney higher-ups with the message, “A little nice makes naughty think twice!”

Drew Dominator in a situation that might take place several seconds after she passes the downed space pod, just in time for Noël Wells’s B-day.

Made the Star Nomad with LEGO Digital Designer.

Made three images in the style of the original Star Wars trilogy VHS set.

Posted 50 WOYS3PredictionPolls on Twitter.

Made an image of “The First 5 Years” with over 140 individuals (including the question marks for 3 new mains and 2 new regulars - I still want to know what they look like!) and one cleverly made Hidden Mickey.

Shared WOY-related images from my 1st 5 Years fan art on Twitter acknowledging the B-days of most of the voice actors (Charlie Adler, Kevin Michael Richardson, Ken Marino, Josh Sussman, H. Michael Croner, James Adomian, Jason Ritter, and Piotr Michael clearly noticed).

Typed a summary of how I think the S3 premiere would go.

Typed lyrics to “Let’s Go Soarin’ and Explorin’,” a song from my aforementioned S3 premiere summary. Wouldn’t it be great if Andy Bean used it?

Made a microgame with WarioWare: D.I.Y. where the player has to spin the fan to make the Star Nomad fly. Part of a chorus from “Let’s Go Soarin’ and Explorin’” included.

Started FanCharacterFriday on Twitter - more Tumblr users seem to like Dr. Otmar Vunderbar.

Made a short comic page of Lord Hater trying to break out of the DTVA vault plus a sly reminder that Disney owns the rights to WOY.

Shared a list of potential episode titles for S3.

Made an actual LEGO Star Nomad based on the model made with LDD. Hopefully, those who worked on WOY have noticed. In case you missed it, here’s a picture...

Now, the ideas I have in mind for further boosting support for the campaign. I may not be able to do most of them myself, but they are certainly for everyone’s consideration.

Provide updated information of higher-ups (if any).

As soon as we find out what Kid Cosmic looks like, expect fan art of him saying, “Watch my show and tell your friends so we’ll make that Mousey Company pay for what they did to my half-brother!”

Another SaveWOY picnic - if there’s one in my general area, you can count me in.

LP album artwork of My Fair Hatey.

A mural identical to that of Super Smash Bros. Ultimate consisting of not just characters from WOY, but also characters who were said to debut in S3 and characters who’d fit in perfectly, namely some of my OCs.

Pumpkin stencils of the main characters for Halloween.

Drawings of various WOY characters stuck on the ex-secret planet explaining why they need to leave said planet. Maybe I could also show how the galaxy’s villains would react if they learn that Lord Dominator’s been bested by Lord Hater.

Drawings consisting of SaveWOY-related messages spoken by the main characters from Disney shows that got at least three seasons (e.g. DuckTales, Fish Hooks), tons of love from the viewers and the executives (e.g. Gravity Falls), or both (e.g. SvtFoE, Mickey Mouse ‘13).

Example with Phineas and Ferb:

Phineas: “We may be creative and famous, but we’re not the ones who came up with the Star Nomad. It’s the ship powered by orbbles! Orbbles! I’d LOVE to see it take flight, wouldn’t you? If you let Mr. McCracken end the show his way, and not the executive way, which, truth be told, is the absolute worst, Wander will surely be elated!”

Ferb: “The Orbble Transporter was invented by conjoined twin brothers, voiced by the performers of the theme song.”

Irving (peeking in from the side): “Speaking of voices, the titular main character sounds JUST LIKE ME! How could you possibly resist?! And look, just because I’m the biggest fan of these guys (gesturing to P&F) doesn’t mean I have no interest in what’s planned for the furry orange fella!”

Since I’m a full-time Disneyland cast member, I should be able to make contacts with anyone who might have more clues about what S3 would entail. It might be a long shot, but if I’m able to convince Disney that WOY’s influence on my life boosted my chance at gaining employment at the company, they should understand.

A weekly Jeopardy-type pop quiz on Twitter - here’s the catch: you must refrain from finding information online when you read the answer (I bet you that the most hardcore fans of the most popular shows will get most of the questions wrong).

Example: This arachnomorph got his name from a dog tag he swallowed when he infiltrated a fish-shaped ship. He later became Lord Hater’s beloved pet.

-Who is Captain Tim?

Summaries of S3 episodes I made up myself a while back.

More fan-made characters - my most recent is an elected official of Cluckon, Mayor Spye C. Drumstick.

Conjuring a logo that best fits the status of S3/TV movie - Wander Over Yonder: The New Galaxy (the center would have the silhouette of the Star Nomad with Wander and Sylvia on it).

Brainstorming possible ideas for the three new main characters.

If all else fails, I suggest we make a web comic based on the hints we accumulated back in 2016 and what we learned from the cameo in Future-Worm’s finale. Team Sea3on has been taking that approach for SatAM Sonic the Hedgehog S3, though they are also making an animated version.

That’s about all I’ve got so far. In closing, I have several questions to ask as the new decade kicks off.

Disney executives: Are you even listening to us WOY fans? What more do you want? I’ve done so much for the campaign that I feel I’m entitled to know everything that was planned for WOY’s third and final season, especially now that I’m working full-time for your company. If you tell us what your demands are, we’d be happy to oblige.

@crackmccraigen: Are you aware of how hard the fans and I have been trying to talk Disney into giving you the chance for true closure? We’ll make sure we watch KC when it comes out on Netflix. If we’re lucky, we might see WOY get added to Disney+, where it should get that closure, assuming you’ll have finished KC your way before then.

@suspendersofdisbelief: I know you’re super busy with DuckTales and you love the plans for WOY S3 so much that you can’t bear to reveal it all in one post, but it’s been waaaay too long since we got any hints from you. Are there any other WOY S3-related facts you could describe in much greater detail? The campaign could do with more motivation.

Non-WOY fans: Are you convinced? Need I remind you what’s in the end tag of the “last” episode of WOY? You know there’s much more to life than tales from the land of Ooo, a blue middle school cat boy in a world of unusual individuals, adolescent twins in an Oregon town filled with oddities, a half-gem half-human protagonist, a coming-of-age princess of Mewni, a trio of ursine trend-followers in San Francisco, and all that jazz. If you’re not one bit interested in Hater’s origin story and all that was planned for S3, it’s your loss.

Pessimists: Will you please dispense with this unnerving “Wander is dead” talk? As a certain Popeye would say, “That’s all I can stands, I can’t stands no more!” You’re not trying to let the Disney bosses win, are you? You probably used to think previously canceled shows like Hey Arnold!, Samurai Jack, and Young Justice could never be brought back. The point is, all is not lost.

@peepsqueak and WOY fans/SaveWOY supporters: Have I been of assistance? Almost every remark I’ve ever made shows wit and perception. I mean, just think. Wander is still stuck in that vault where his goal of reforming Lord Hater remains incomplete, and he has no idea of what threat awaits him. He says, “Glorn, help us.” It’ll take something big and extraordinary to convince every Disney fan (and perhaps every Netflix fan) to talk some sense into the higher-ups. Not to mention the replacement/back-up voice actors we’ll have to find if Disney takes even longer (we already lost one - René Auberjonois). We shan’t rest until we get the answers!

@disneyanimation

[cmncisspnandmore]

Late nights; Spencer Reid x Reader.

AN: I wrote this on a whim, i thought we could all use some angst and fluff in our lives. Requests are open and so is my taglist! 

~~~~~~

You tried to keep your eyes open as the clock turned from 3:34 am to 3:35 am. Spencer had called you earlier promising you that he was going to be home from a case soon. You thought soon meant he was going to be home in a few hours. He had called at 7:46 pm, and now as the wee hours of the morning started creep up at you, you were struggling to stay awake. You were perched on the couch, your laptop resting on your lap as your latest newspaper article open on the screen.

You stretch back, and your elbows pop, you had finished the article a little over an hour ago and you had spent the last hour trying to edit the article, trying to keep yourself awake. You didn't usually wait up for Spence, but he had sounded pretty distraught over the case when he called.

Pushing your hair back, you place your laptop on the couch and stand up. A yawn escaping as you shuffle into the kitchen and turn on the coffee pot. The machine whirs to life and the faint sound of the water starting to heat up is music to your ears. You open the coffee machine and take out the old filter and replace it with another, and grab the coffee grounds out of the cabinet above it. You put a few scoops in the filter and shut it. You replace the coffee pot and press brew.

The alluring aroma fills the kitchen, and you busy your tired mind with finding the perfect mug to hold the magic bean juice. You settle on a mug you got Spencer for Christmas last year, he hadn’t found the joke funny but you sure did. It was a black mug that said “Don't worry my wife is a reporter, everything is documented.”

When Spencer had unwrapped the mug at Christmas time he innocently asked why anyone would be worried that you were a reporter. When you tried to explain it to him, telling him that they it meant no one should mess with him, he explained that it would be stupid of someone because he was FBI. Ultimately it had ruined the joke, but he still proudly used the mug whenever it was in the cabinet.

You grab the creamer from the fridge and walk back over to the coffee pot and pull it from the stand, you pour yourself some and replace the pot back on the warmer. You add in the cream and sugar, and stir it with a spoon. Dropping the spoon in the sink you, you take your coffee cup to the couch and decide to turn on the tv, you close your laptop making sure to save your work.

You settle on an episode of Friends, you had forced Spencer to watch friends with you when you two first got together and surprisingly the genius had loved the show. Since then it had become a common occurrence in your household to watch it curled up on the couch together. Spencer would even recite his favorite lines from the show in your ear softly.

You sipped on your coffee and after an episode your cup was empty, but you still felt sluggish. You place the cup on the coffee table that held more books than you could count and rest your head on your hand. Your legs tucked up under you and your other arm across your stomach in attempt to keep warm, as all the blankets in your house were too far away, to be bothered. Within a few moment you drift off and welcome the peaceful embrace of sleep.

It’s 4:42 when Dr. Spencer Reid walks through his apartment door, and sets his keys and bag down on the table by the door. He locks the door behind him and makes sure to slide the chain across. After the case he had, all he wants to do is curl up next to you and get some well needed rest.

Spencer walks into the kitchen where the coffee pot is still bubbling away on the countertop, the half full pot of coffee still being kept warm by the heating plate. He walks over and switches off the trusty coffee pot. He turns off the kitchen light and makes his way towards the living room where the tv is asking if you are still watching. He looks down at the couch and sees you curled up in a ball, an empty coffee cup set on the table in front of you.

You looked peaceful and Spencer doesn’t want to wake you to ask you to come to bed, so he opts to carry you instead. He leans down and gently lifts you bridal style into his arms. You stir slightly and Spencer freezes, he knows you fallen asleep waiting for him. You did it every time he was away as a particularly hard case. This time it took longer to get home, he had called you when the jet had taken off but they had to touch down and wait out a storm before they could finish the trip back to the BAU. So instead of being home at midnight, he got home at almost 5am.

Spencer makes his way to your shared bedroom and gently places you on your side of the bed and kisses your forehead gently. You softly sigh and turn over into the pillows and Spencer makes his way to the ensuite and starts the shower. He strips and steps into the hot shower, as he stands under the stream he can’t help the cascade of tears that start down his face. The case he was on hit close to home. A guys wife was murdered because she was working as lead reporter on a news story, and her entire team had been taken out. The Unsub was caught in the end, JJ and Morgan’s quick actions caught the guy going after a reporter from a different station.

The entire time Spencer was working the case his thoughts kept creeping back towards you. His wife, a newspaper reporter, someone who wrote about all the horrible events going on in the world so the general public would be aware of what’s going on. He kept thinking that at any point it could be you. Someone could go after you because you got stuck with the wrong story, with the wrong people and he could lose you.

He knew that you were a little more equipped to deal with someone attacking you. Spencer promised the day he stumbled into your office on accident and you smiled and invited him in for a cup of coffee. That nothing bad would ever happen to you. From the moment you smiled and joked about it being his lucky day, that you were looking for a stranger to buy coffee that he would keep you safe. He kept his promise, after a few dates and a few nights spent at his place. He took you to the shooting range and taught you how to shoot a gun. You and Spencer took self defense classes together and he always made sure to quiz you on how to get out of certain situations.

But even with everything that Spencer has taught you he cant help but feel like those reporters were you. He watched as the husband of the latest victim fell to his knees when they told him they found her body. He watched as he positively identified the body of his wife.

Your eyes open and you realize that you aren't in the same place you were before, there is a soft light coming from the bathroom that is off of your bedroom. Your heart leaps, Spencer must be home. You climb out of bed and softly knock on the door, “Spence?”

You push the door open slightly, and step into the steam filled bathroom. “Y/n, did i wake you up?” He asks, the glass shower door is steamed up and foggy. He uses his hand to clear some of the fog and peeks out at you, you can see through the watery glass that his eyes are bloodshot and sunken.

“No. I woke up on my own, please get out of the shower so i can hug you.” you frown and grab a fluffy white towel from the linen closet to the left of the shower. You hear the water turn off and you toss the towel over the shower door, and Spencer wraps the towel around his waist and opens the shower door.  Before the door has time to close you are wrapping your arms around Spencers wet waist and pulling him into a tight hug. Your cheek pressed firmly against his wet chest, his heart slamming against his ribs beneath your cheekbone.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You ask, pulling away slightly and looking up at the curly haired man.

“Not tonight. Can we just get some sleep? Maybe talk about something besides the case.” Spencer traces a long finger down your cheek and rests it under your chin.

“Mmmk, but tomorrow we are talking about why i found my husband crying in my shower at 5 am.” You poke his chest and he nods.

“Of course. Let me get changed and i’ll be in bed in a minute.” He kisses your head and water from his hair drips onto your cheeks.

“Yes Dr. Reid.” You smirk and walk back to the bedroom and climb under the navy comforter. A few moments later Spencer exits the bathroom and climbs into bed next to you. Pulling you into his side and rests his head on top of yours.

“How was babysitting Henry?” Spencer quietly asks, and you wraps your arms around him.

“Oh it was great, he’s such a smart boy. Although he did mention he wants to be a reporter like his Aunt. I asked him if he wanted to be a profiler and he said no that my job was wayyyy cooler.” You smirk.

“Oh is that so?” Spencer asks with a small laugh.

“Yup, he thinks i’m pretty cool.”

“How many scoops of ice cream did you bribe him with to get him to admit that you were cool Mrs. Reid?” Spencer closes his eyes and runs his fingers up and down your sides.

“Four..” You mutter and close your eyes, and you feel Spencer laugh beneath you.

~~~~~

Taglist

Criminal minds: @morcialovechild @banananna99

[thedevillord-writes]

Zemblanity - Chapter Two

Zemblanity is the faculty of making unhappy, unlucky and expected discoveries by design 

- - -

~Present Day~

Whether she was invited to a party to perform or simply to attend as a guest, they were all the same. People liked to think socialites led an exciting and extravagant life, even films and dramas glorified that idea. How wrong they were. Or well, partly.

As she looked around the room, there was no doubt this was an extravagant life. The party was held in banquet hall of a five-stars hotel, decorated entirely in rose gold. There were pillars all around the hall serving no purpose other than aesthetics. The waiters, all of whom young and good looking, were dressed in the latest collection of white shirt and black suit of a brand that ordinary people would only splurge on for special occasions like their wedding. Or their funeral. The food served were all finger food, yet prepared by a world class Michelin's chef. Every single person attending the party wore clothes that were either customised or limited edition, but would only wear once for this particular party. Herself included.

She wore a strapless royal blue floor length mermaid dress with Swarovski crystals embellished, coupled with a pair of Alexander McQueen's heels with her initials hand sewn on. Misaki was as extravagant as anyone present in this hall, if not the most.

Patrolling the parametres of the hall, she watched the socialites. She never understood the art of people watching, she always thought it was just a nicer term for stalking or being creepy. Somewhere down the road, however, she found herself enjoying the activity. It was intriguing, more so than anything else, to watch people from far and notice the minute details that they thought no one would notice. She came to find at such parties, that none of these people were who they bragged themselves to be. That diamond necklace Mrs. Whoever showed off? Her husband did not win that at an auction. Not so much as bought it at a no name boutique for a small fraction of the price she thought it was.

"Your wine."

"Thanks."

Joined by Minato, Misaki finally stopped her patrol and took a sip of the red wine handed to her. Parties like this were never to the Kanemoto siblings' liking but they were always forced to attend by their father. It was one of the best way to sell the happiness they pretended to have. What better way to show how dedicated Junichiro was as a father, bringing his children along to spend more time with them. The reality was, they were nothing more than the rose gold pillars used for aesthetics.

"Misaki? Minato?"

"Mr. Nakahara."

"Are you here in place of your father?"

"Yes sir. He's not feeling well today so we offered to come in his place."

Lies.

If there was one thing a Kanemoto was good at, it would be lying. Junichiro lied about the life he led, the happy family he had, and the perfect children. Misaki learnt too, to lie through her teeth with a bright smile. Her father was not ill at home, he simply did not want to attend the party. However, to keep his reputations, he sent his children to entertain. They were upgraded from decorations to escorts. Even without her father here, these events were insufferable.

"You've always been a good daughter to your father, Misaki," Mr. Nakahara smiled, giving her a gentle pat on the shoulder. Minato tensed a little, seeing the contact but Misaki grabbed him by the wrist and gripped hard. "It was nice to see you two."

"Why did you stop me? He touched you."

"He's one of the good guys, Minato," Misaki said, putting her hand on her brother's cheek. "And even if he did touch me inappropriately, we cannot do anything about it. We're here in the name of father today. You know his rule."

"Keep low, stay low."

"Exactly. Except, this evening is about to become very interesting."

Following his sister's gaze, Minato frowned a little. Misaki was never one to follow celebrities. In fact, if you were to quiz her right now on the trending stars or even pop songs, she would not be able to get a single right. Which was why he was confused as to why she was suddenly taking an interest in Inoue Junko, the model.

Misaki was not the hero type, that much she was certain. As a child, she had always been passive. If someone was being bullied, she stood by the side and watched. It was just the way she was brought up. Getting involved in situations that did not benefit them was never the Kanemoto way. She did not want to be a hero either. She did not know the woman Junko humiliated at the previous event. She thought it was shameful that Junko would use her social status over the woman, accusing her of something that was so painfully obvious her own fault. She could have done a better job.

She was patient. She kept her eyes on Junko the entire night, waiting for the perfect opportunity. When Junko finally walked off by herself, Misaki saw her chance. She followed after the model into the bathroom. As luck would have it, they were the only two in there. She stood by the sinks, looking into the mirror while waiting for Junko to emerge to execute her plan. Coming out from the stall a few moments later, Junko stood next to Misaki by the sinks.

"Did it feel nice? You know, after bullying that secretary."

"What are you talking about?"

"It was only two nights ago, surely you haven't forgotten already?"

"She deserved it. Why? Are you going to avenge her?"

"Of course not. I don't even know who she is."

As she spoke, Misaki walked over to the door and locked it so no one else could come in. She let her hair down and messed it up, then she tore her dress down the side and broke off the heel of one shoe. Stepping on the train of Junko's dress, Misaki grabbed the other woman by her hair only to be pushed off by a very confused Junko.

"What the hell are you doing?"

"Giving you a lesson on tasting your own medicine."

Unlocking the door, Misaki dropped to the floor and let out a blood curdling scream over and over, holding her left wrist as if she was hurt. Within seconds, tears were streaming down her cheeks and she looked so distraught that anyone who walked in now would instantly believe that she was the victim. Before Junko even had time to register what was going, the door to the bathroom burst open and security was rushing in.

Both women were hysterical. Misaki refused to let anyone near her, holding her wrist while crying in pain. Security was desperately trying to explain that they were there to help though nothing was calming her down. Junko, on the other hand, was frantically trying to explain the situation. That Misaki was acting and none of this was her fault. With Misaki's screams and cries, however, it was hard to hear anyone speak and they were both escorted out to a private room each where security had notified Minato. As soon as they walked through the door, Minato received his sister in his arms and held her tight.

"Would you like for us to call the police, Miss Kanemoto?"

"Yes," Minato replied.

"No, don't," Misaki said softly. "It was just a misunderstanding, I don't want to make a scene out of it."

"Are you sure, Misaki?"

This was unlike his sister, Minato thought. They had no relations with Junko; they did not know who she was, nor did they deal with her professionally. In all reality, this kind of conflict should never happen between the two. That was when Minato remembered what Misaki said just before she disappeared: this evening is about to become very interesting. Could his sister be faking like Junko said?

Even as he stared into her eyes and wiped away her tears, Minato could not tell if Misaki was pretending. He knew everything there was to know about his sister. Or at least that was what he thought. He could not quite put his finger on when, but there was a time when he felt that Misaki was slowly becoming someone unfamiliar. The subtle change in the way she spoke, the way she acted was so minute that he never noticed, not even now.

"I just want to go home, Minato," she whispered. "If the police get involved, we'd spend the whole night at the station and I really don't want that. Please...let's just go home."

Despite going against every fibre of his being, Minato nodded in agreement. As protective as he was, Misaki was right. Once the police were involved, they would be at the station all night and the last thing he wanted was for his sister to be further traumatised. Not to mention the media; nothing about a Kanemoto ever went unreported. If their father were to know about this incident, they would not be let off with just a simple lecture.

"Alright. You stay here, I'll say the goodbyes and I'll get the car around."

"Thank you. You're the best brother."

"I'm your only brother."

"That's why you're the best."

Leaving his suit jacket behind for her, Minato went back to the event hall. Misaki slipped her arms through the sleeves and brushed her hair out, waiting a few seconds before opening the door. The damsel in distress act was dropped since there was nobody around. She took her shoes off, holding them in her hand as she made her way down the hallway and to the elevator. She got on, pressed for the lobby and just as the door was about to close, a hand caught the door and someone slipped in with her.

One look was all it took.

One glance at the stranger who joined her and Misaki instantly knew who he was. She did not know he would be here, but then again, she never knew when and where he would be. Stepping aside to the back corner, she pretended not to know who he was though she could feel an intense gaze on her.

"How's your wrist?"

"Fine."

"You're a better actress than you are a pianist."

"Excuse me?"

"You were never a liar. Was it fun? Putting on that little show."

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

This was so him. After all these years, he never changed. He was always playing games but by his own rules that were constantly changing and confusing. They used to be fun, refreshing even. Especially since his games were never meant for her. Or so Misaki thought. No one was ever exempted from his games, not even her. Everyone had to play the Sagara Yosuke game and she was in one of them right now. No longer, however, should Misaki play into his hands.

Slamming her palm on the stop button, Misaki looked Yosuke in the eyes without a single change in her expression. She was naive all those years ago, eating up every word he said. She used to believe that Sagara Yosuke was the angel sent to save her from her miserable life. All those years ago, she would look into his eyes and see a future together. All she saw now, however, were lies written all over. Lies that she should have seen from the beginning.

"Well that was a tad aggressive," Yosuke grinned. "Feisty. Different from what I'm used to."

"I'm not the girl you used to know anymore," Misaki stated.

"Is that why you staged that little performance?" he asked, stepping closer but she did not budge an inch. "Misa to the rescue?"

"Don't call me that."

"Then what should I call you?"

She imagined this scenario plenty of times. Not this specific scenario but one where she would see him again. She imagined she would be angry, lashing out at him for all that he had done to her. She imagined there would be tears and perhaps some hitting on her part. There was none of that, however. She was oddly calm, though a little irritated at his interrogation game.

Ever since he saw her again, Yosuke could not stop thinking about Misaki. How she still kept her hair long but put waves in them now. How she still looked like the high school student he met, yet matured in so many ways. The look in her eyes, however, was different. They no longer held that hope she had, that everything would get better. Her smile was no longer genuine either, just plastered on her face to please others. The dress, the shoes, and the jewelry, none of it screamed Misaki. She was no longer the Misaki he knew.

"You were there, were you not? The event two days ago, where that model bullied a secretary."

"You think I avenged that secretary? I don't even know who she is."

"Then why did you go through the effort?"

"To teach her a lesson."

"What lesson would that be?"

Turning her back on Yosuke, Misaki pressed the button to get the elevator going again. "That she shouldn't pull social status over others. Not when there are people with more power." As if on cue, the elevator finally arrived at the lobby and the door opened. Without another look at Yosuke, Misaki stepped out and headed for the entrance where she waited for Minato.

The cool air hit her harder than she anticipated and as she took in a deep breath, she found herself leaning against the glass. She was overcame by emotions for unknown reasons and before she knew it, she was crying. Tears kept streaming down her cheeks no matter how hard she tried to keep them in and wiping them away. Her breathing was getting heavier and heavier by the second, the feeling of being overwhelmed unstoppable.

Was this Yosuke?

She thought she could handle seeing him again. Her own mind tricked her into thinking she was fine after all these years but the truth was, she was not. There was no anger involved but there was plenty of misery. As his face flashed in her mind, she was reminded of how happy they used to be back in high school and how that happiness never belonged to her in the first place. When it all crashed and burnt, she was the one left in the rubble trying to pick up the pieces. She was the one left with all the scars when he went on with life as if she was never a part of it to begin with.

Having said all his goodbyes, Minato rushed out of the event hall. Without Misaki, he felt out of place facing all those people. He was born into this world but he never felt like it was his place. Years of training perfected his smile and every word he said, however, making it seem like he was one of them. He rushed not so he could be with his sister, he rushed so he could get out of there and away from them.

However, as he arrived at the lobby, he spotted Misaki wearing his suit jacket just outside the building through the glass. Something was wrong.

Misaki was doubled over, clutching onto Minato's suit jacket like it was a life jacket. Every noise around her suddenly became amplified and despite being outside, it felt as if the world was closing in on her. Running out to his sister, Minato made the mistake of touching her. Misaki swatted his hand away while stepping away from him though she stepped on her torn dress and fell backwards instead.

He had seen this many times before. The first time Misaki came home from an event with their father without Minato, she did not make it into her bedroom before breaking down. Almost every time before her final exams, she would have at least two attacks. A few shoes thrown at him and being screamed at right in the face, he had to learn how to help her through a panic attack. And this right now, was a panic attack. Whatever triggered it did not matter, guiding her out of it did.

"Misaki, look at me. Look, who am I?" Holding his sister's face with his hands, Minato made sure that she could not see anything else except for him. Focusing on one thing helped her to eliminate any other possible triggers.

"Mi-Minato..."

"You're going to be okay. I'm right here," he said softly. "I'm going to take my hands away but I want you to keep your eyes on me, okay?"

"Okay."

As he pulled his hands away, Minato kept his eyes on Misaki, as she did him. He moved slowly, careful not to startle her and reached into the pocket of his jacket to pull out a pair of earphones. Every time Misaki's eyes flickered elsewhere, Minato would make a soft clicking noise with his tongue, getting her attention back. He plugged the earphones into his phone and put on the playlist he made for her. Instant relief washed over Misaki the second the playlist started.

"Let's go home."

[mydivinepunishment]

Spiralling down academic failure due to PTSD

I am 11 years old. I read a lot of books. My mind is filled with questions and ideas. I frequently share them in my science class and my science teacher adores me. She says I'm destined for greatness.

I'm 12 years old. My English teacher teases me for my small height. But also acknowledges my strength in her subject. She tells me I'm a great poet and I should stop being so shy to show the world how good I am.

I'm 13 years old. This was my peak year. My grades are top notch. I have taken part in 2 sports competitions and one quiz in which I came out 1st, 1st and 2nd respectively. I'm the pride of the class. But there's some uncertainty in my eyes that seems to grow every minute. My science teacher notices it as I flinch when she raised her hand to yawn. She stares at me questioningly and thinks what my problem was. I'm scoring all As in her subject so why am I scared?

I'm 14 years old. And I fell down. My academic fell from As to B's and C's . I'm withdrawn and scared all the time. I don't speak up in class anymore and I don't eat my lunch. There is a suspicious redness on my cheeks and tired, watery eyes. No teacher notices a thing. They chalk it up to drugs and boys. I barely interact with people. My maths teacher told my parents that I'm terribly weak in her subject. There's a pop quiz. I'm the first to get to my answer. My maths teacher looks at my notebook, then in my eyes with surprise and a spark. And then she makes sure she gets me more interested in her subject because I've never been bad at her subject all I had been was lost.

I'm 15 years old. I drink at night by stealing from dad's stash. It's been a full year of physical and verbal abuse. I'm locked in my own home. I barely eat. I cut and I cry to sleep every night. Mum and dad take out their anger on me. But it's not my fault that dad cheated on mum with a maid. My marks drop terribly and then they stop when it gets too bad. They learn to control themselves more but the damage is done. 2 years is more than 700 days. I already have started having full blown panic attacks. I told my mother I'm depressed and she grits her teeth and demands if I should be in an insane asylum. I stop dad's hand as he attempts to hit me. Enough. I said. Since then I have never allowed him to raise a hand on me.

I'm 16 years old. I change schools to study science. The situation at home is calmer though it will never be the same . I'm finally making friends again. I need to grow so I force myself to take part in competitions. My physics teacher loves me. My English teacher loves me. And so many people start appreciating me and it feels so better even though there are days I still am verbally abused on dad's bad days to the point of shivering in fear and anxiety. I join boxing classes so I can make sure I never allow dad to hit me.No one saved me so I would save myself, I decided. And I also needed to protect my little brother.

I'm 17 years old. I get us consolation prize at my first MUN, I'm doing even better in physics. I take part in a bunch of competitions and the principal's calls for me and tells me how much she appreciates and respects me.A teacher gifted me a book. I am part of a beautiful trio of friends who help me through thick and thin. We go out for the class trip for a week and it's the happiest time of my life and I look forward to my next one. I realise even though my house is filled with shit, this whole world loves me. I go to the doctor for headaches and I got diagnosed for my anxiety instead. She says it's causing me to have stress-related reflux. I tell my parents and he screams around the house that the doctor is insane and wrong. He calls me names again and forbids me from going to the doctor.

I'm 18 years old. I go to a preparatory boarding school for entrance exams. I meet a school friend there who becomes my roommate. She nice but she was toxic, vulgar and manipulative. I get calls from my crying mother and brother when dad throws tantrums around the house when he's drunk. I have anxiety attack. I'm too far I don't know how to save my mummy and little brother.

I'm molested about 4 times that year. All by females.

3 times by my roommate and her friend who think it's a game to pull your clothes down and touch and grab at you wrongly. They were violent incidents of being restrained to bed by 2-4 girls which I tried to break free but my mouth was covered to muffle my screams as they made me feel vulnerable and terrible.

1 time by a close friend who I was snuggling in the blanket. She grabbed at me , at my butt, shoved her hands inside my shirt to feel every nook and cranny of my flesh and scratches and grabbed me. It felt nice.....but I didn't want to be touched.

I'm 19 years old and my mum calls me crying asking if she should call the police. I tell her she should. They come and restrain my father. His job is transferred away from home. He blames us all even though we're the victims.

I come home to my mother because she can't stay alone. I'm finally taken to a psychiatrist. I'm prescribed anti-depressants. I hope this is the last year I have to fight. I'm tired. I missed my teens. I can't miss anymore.

[italicwatches]

My Hero Academia, season 2 - Episode 32

Food’s in the oven, so let’s try and squeeze this in while I wait for my meal. It’s My Hero Academia, episode 32! Here we GO!

-We begin at the hospital. Deku’s still stuck in bed, and with nothing better to do, he’s just chewing on news about the whole Stain mess. As far as the public is concerned, Endeavor took down the hero killer, and three young men happened to suffer unrelated injuries due to accidents during their internships.

-Tenya’s already gone back home, his mother having come to retrieve him to recover somewhere that isn’t a hospital bed. Shoto got out of it pretty light, so he was just plain declared safe to discharge the next day, and thus went right back to his internship.

-So now it’s just Deku on his own, waiting for his leg to be useful again, and contemplating what everyone else is up to at their own internships…

-Opening!

-Episode 32: Everyone’s Internships

-So first we cut over to Best Jeanist, taking Katsuki out on patrol. And he has a pop quiz for the kid. The chief reason for patrols is to have a deterrent effect on criminal activity; the would-be crook sees heroes walking around, and decides not to hold up the local bank today. But what’s the secondary effect?

-Katsuki figures it’s kicking ass and taking names.

-Katsuki is wrong. As in all things. It’s to form a connection with the people; the hero walking the beat gets to know their people, and in turn the people know they can trust the hero and rely on them if things go wrong.

-…Anyways that’s when some kids recognize Katsuki from when the slime thing tried to eat him. And so he literally makes small children cry. Repeatedly. Best Jeanist has to figure out how to grind down this kid’s stubborn pride so he’s not, you know, all of this.

-Over to Gunhead and Ochaco. He’s showing her how to deal with a knife or similar weapon, and it’s pretty solid advice against someone who’s not trained. It’s not gonna help against a Stain-type, but she is both deeply impressed and loving that gap-moe that the gentle Gunhead has to offer.

-Let’s see what Uwabami’s up to!

-She’s signing autographs while her girls just stand there and quietly contemplate where they went wrong in life. (It was when you picked Uwabami as your mentor, I’m sad to say)

-Kirashima and Tetsutetsu are helping clean up a park. In hard contrast, Kyoko is doing real rescue work with the rough and tough Death Arms, and her earphones gave them a major asset in a hostage rescue. She’s feeling good about it, too, feeling like she’s really making a difference…For a character who’s so often shown as grumpy and snarky, it’s good to see that earnest pride bubbling up for once.

-And then to Tsu, who’s scrubbing down a boat. One of the sidekicks here, Sirius, is sympathetic that it’s a boring gig out here most days…But you stick with it, and you find your purpose.

-So obviously the Captain being all cutesy is our image. And Sirius is so very embarrassed at the attempted gap-moe from this rugged and tough Captain. But this banter is, itself, kind of adorable.

-Then they get a message from the coast guard! Sounds like they’re getting put to work. The ship’s unhooked, and the Oki Mariner sets sail to go to the rescue!

-And soon Captain Selkie is laying out what they’re dealing with. A ship was reported to have stowaways…But instead, when investigated, all they found was missing cargo. So they’re not just looking for victims of the sea…They’re hunting pirates! Hell yeah! Also Tsu is totally enamored with the Captain’s big tough frame being cute. She and Ochaco clearly need to share their doujin collections.

-So Selkie hits the water, having a Quirk much like Tsp’s: While she has the proportionate strength and skills of a frog, he has the proportionate strength and skills of an incredibly buff seal. So while his crew searches with the ship, he sonars his way through the water…

-Until well into the night, when they’re having no luck…Until they get a report from the coast guard! A fishing boat was spotted fleeing in their direction…And then Selkie gets back with a confirmation that that very same boat is coming their way! Kill all the lights and get ready to sneak up on them!

-Soon the orders are coming in, and Tsu finds herself left waiting on the ship with no room to actually do stuff…But as Sirius lays it out once Selkie gets gone, there’s a big risk any time you’re dealing with something like this. Miles away from shore, away from anyone who could help you…You have to be doubly careful with criminals on the high seas.

-Anyways a flare goes up, blinding the stowaways, and Selkie demands they stop for an inspection at once! Soon the ship’s being gone over from top to bottom…Until Selkie has one last place he wants to look. Open the fish bin.

-…So the two squid lookin’ fuckers turn out to have taken this humble fisherman hostage, and now they have Selkie and his sailors too. And then the fisherman goes in too, leaving enough time for their boss Innsmouth to do his work. I assume he secretly ravishes land women.

-Back at the ship, Sirius’s fine hearing catches a sonar signal from Selkie…Telling them to get after the ‘stowaways’! He’s going to get himself out, but it’s going to take too long!

-Soon, their path takes them to a rocky outcropping, where Tsu gets put to work catching a squid lady. Who promptly gets interrogated and then tied up. There’s only one more person left…

-And meet Innsmouth. Who’s knocked out their last sailor cold, and has Sirius in his grasp! Tsu is on her own now, and Sirius’s attempt to get free with a baton just sees her slowly getting crushed…Tsu needs a plan, and NOW.

-Which is when the other sailors come in on Sirius’s radio. Innsmouth forces Tsu to lie to them, if she wants Sirius to survive…And Tsu remembers Sirius’s words. The true importance of being a hero, and her trust of the captain…

-So she takes the radio…And immediately shouts out their location GET HERE NOW! Then it’s a frantic leap into the rocks, with Tsu whipping out her tongue to catch Sirius and get her out of the line of fire…Only for Innsmouth to catch her and drag her across the rocks! It’s the end for her, if she can’t figure out a way out of this…

-Cue Innsmouth’s underlings being thrown into him, and Selkie arriving with a full display…He gets blinded, but his sonar hearing catches Innsmouth’s every movement, letting him fight and keep the bastard’s attention long enough for Sirius to grab his leg! Now, Captain!

-CAPTAIN KIIIICK

-So Innsmouth goes down hard, as Tsu and Sirius check on each other, and Selkie tries to be all cute about his relief that they’re okay. While Tsu’s figured out a real, honest idea of what’s important to being a hero…

-Back on land, these would-be stowaways are taken away by the coast guard, and they can only apologize that Tsu had to go through something rough like that…But Selkie’s overwhelmingly proud of the kid. Froppy might not be licensed yet…But she’s got the heart of a hero, and the skills to back them up. She’s going to be great one day very soon. And oh, the pride on this kid’s face at that kind of praise.

-Credits!

That was pretty fun! More Tsu time is always a good time. Even if it does leave me with the certain irony that MHA taps into the charm of superhero comics so well, and has so many cool characters we barely get to see, that it really makes me want more people able to pour ideas into it and make a more thoroughly explored universe. Like, I would devour an entire one-cour anime just about a graduated Tsu working on that ship, stopping sea-crime and bantering with her gentle yet buff Captain. And you know my stance on a Mei spinoff. (GIVE IT TO MEEEE)

Do I dare dive into the world of fanfic for my fix? It might be the only option on the board. But for right now, we’ll just have to catch back up with Deku next time, in episode THIRTY THREE of My Hero Academia! Wait for it!

[toldnews-blog]

New Post has been published on https://toldnews.com/world/asia-pacific/william-barr-huawei-caster-semenya-your-thursday-briefing/

William Barr, Huawei, Caster Semenya: Your Thursday Briefing

U.S. Attorney General Grilled by Senate Panel

Attorney General William Barr spent much of Wednesday answering questions from members of the Senate Judiciary Committee on the special counsel’s report on Russian election meddling and possible obstruction of justice.

Mr. Barr defended the four-page summary that he released of the report, which the special counsel, Robert Mueller, criticized in a letter released by the Justice Department as failing to capture the “context, nature and substance” of the 448-page document.

Partisan focus: Democrats pressed Mr. Barr on why he had not publicly acknowledged concerns about his original summary and why he asserted that Mr. Trump had cooperated fully with the investigation when he tried to thwart it.

Republicans focused not on Mr. Trump or Mr. Mueller’s report but on Hillary Clinton’s emails and the former F.B.I. officials who opened the Russia investigation.

Go deeper: Read our reporter’s takeaways from the hearing.

What’s next: The House Judiciary Committee voted to allow staff lawyers to question Mr. Barr on Thursday. Mr. Barr has said he will not appear under that format.

See for yourself: Watch clips from the hearing.

Huawei grapples with an identity crisis

The Trump administration’s accusations that the telecommunications giant acts as a spy for the Chinese government, means that Huawei must prove it is trustworthy to maintain lucrative global business ties.

But “its soul is steeped in Communist Party culture,” writes our New New World columnist Li Yuan, and the company’s internal structures resemble the party, from the power of its top leadership down to its team-building activities.

Related: Britain’s prime minister, Theresa May, fired her defense secretary, accusing him of leaking sensitive information about the government’s internal deliberations about Huawei and its decision to let the company build out its 5G network.

Trade talks: As the U.S. and China work toward closing a trade deal, there’s one thing that Beijing is unlikely to yield on: control over the data that American companies collect on their consumers inside China.

Women with high testosterone can be barred from races

A nuanced ruling by the highest court in international sports will force female athletes with elevated levels of male hormones to take suppressants to compete in certain international track races.

The ruling is a defeat for Caster Semenya, a two-time Olympic champion in track and field from South Africa, who had previously challenged a proposal to limit testosterone levels. The ruling by the arbitration court was also watched closely by transgender athletes.

The court said restrictions on permitted levels of naturally occurring testosterone were discriminatory, but that such discrimination was a “necessary, reasonable and proportionate means” to preserve the integrity of women’s competition.

Response: Ms. Semenya issued a statement through her lawyers, said the decision “will not hold me back. I will once again rise above and continue to inspire young women and athletes in South Africa and around the world.” Her lawyers are considering an appeal.

What’s next: If she wants to keep participating at major international competitions, she faces some hard choices: take hormone-suppressing drugs; compete against men; or enter competitions for intersex athletes, if any are offered.

Focus on food and climate

What we eat every day has consequences.

The world’s food system is responsible for about one-quarter of the planet-warming greenhouse gases that humans generate each year. That includes raising and harvesting all the plants, animals and animal products we eat. Climate change is also now altering the foods America grows.

What should you do? We’ve answered all your questions about how to shop, cook and eat in a warming world.

Recipes: Review our collection of climate-friendly dishes. And a correspondent who has traveled the world suggests five cuisines that are easier on the planet.

Quiz: What is the climate impact of the type of foods you ate for breakfast, lunch and dinner yesterday? Take our quiz.

If you have 8 minutes, this is worth it

In pursuit of Aboriginal justice

Patrick Cumaiyi waved to his family with shackled hands as he boarded a plane to Darwin, the capital of Australia’s Northern Territory, to face a domestic-violence complaint. Before takeoff, an argument broke out, an officer delivered a sharp blow to Mr. Cumaiyi’s head, and another officer dragged him headfirst onto the tarmac.

Medical records obtained by The New York Times suggest he was a victim not only of police brutality — a persistent problem for Indigenous Australians — but also a cover-up.

Here’s what else is happening

U.N.C.: A 22-year-old man was in custody following a deadly shooting at the University of North Carolina that left two dead and four wounded.

Venezuela: Thousands of the opposition Juan Guaidó’s supporters turned out for a second day of protests in the capital, Caracas, and elsewhere, but it was unclear whether the antigovernment demonstrations were a convincing rejoinder to the setback he suffered on Tuesday, when military commanders asserted their allegiance to President Nicolás Maduro.

Julian Assange: A British court sentenced the WikiLeaks founder to 50 weeks in jail for jumping bail when he took refuge in Ecuador’s embassy in London seven years ago.

Taliban: Negotiators began a new round of peace talks with the U.S. in Doha, Qatar. The U.S. military command in Afghanistan has stopped counting how much of the country is controlled by the Taliban, eliminating what had been a public measure of progress in the war.

Australia: Kate Jenkins, who is leading the country’s inquiry into workplace sexual harassment, is trying to overcome nondisclosure agreements that prevent victims from speaking out.

Snapshot: Above, Emperor Naruhito’s ascension ceremony. It offers striking visual evidence of the imperial family’s existential crisis: few heirs.

Yeti sighting? The Indian Army posted photos of 32-inch footprints near a base camp in Nepal, saying they belonged to the mythical snowman. Social media users had their own theories.

Netflix: The video streaming giant and SK Global Entertainment, the production house that made the film “Crazy Rich Asians,” acquired the rights to the story of the 12 boys and their soccer coach who were trapped in a cave in Thailand in July.

Do-it-yourself treadmills: Internet users are posting videos of themselves exercising using nothing more than soap, water, a slick hard floor and maybe a lack of common sense.

Dolphins: Scientists believe a beluga whale found off the coast of Norway and harnessed with a GoPro-type camera was being trained by the Russian Navy.

What we’re reading: This conversation with Anjelika Huston in Vulture. “It’s as good as everyone is saying,” writes Katie Rogers, one of our White House correspondents.

Now, a break from the news

Cook: When an average salad won’t do, Samin Nosrat’s greenest green salad will satisfy.

Listen: From Kanye West to serpentwithfeet to the Stellar Awards returning to BET, our critics discuss the evolving dialogue between gospel and pop.

Watch: The comedian Anthony Jeselnik says he can say very dark things because audiences understand that he’s not a monster — his character is. His new special is now on Netflix.

Go: The Turner Prize, Britain’s most prestigious art award, announced four finalists. Their work will go on display in Margate, England, and the winner will be announced in December.

Smarter Living:Allergies can be torture. Immunotherapy — shots that can help desensitize you to allergens — can help over time. If needles aren’t your thing, cleaning the filter of your air conditioner or furnace can keep indoor air cleaner. Vacuum often. Mattress protectors for both your mattress and box spring keep dust mites out. Pillow protectors are also an option.

And we asked you for the best advice anyone’s ever given you, and how it made an impact on your life. Here’s what you said.

And now for the Back Story on …

The power of fairy tales

A recent feature by our Berlin bureau chief tracked how Germany’s far-right has adopted anti-immigrant tropes in discussing an influx from Poland of “the most notorious fairy-tale baddie”: the wolf.

Connecting nationalism and fairy tales is not new.

The Brothers Grimm, who based their tales on folk tradition, lived and worked in the 19th century, when Europe was brimming with enthusiasm for the nation-state over multi-ethnic empires. Artists and writers reached for ancient myths to feed the ideal of a national culture.

That legacy lives on in children’s books but also concert halls: Jean Sibelius picked tales from the Finnish national epic “Kalevala”, and Bela Bartok collected folk songs from the former Austro-Hungarian empire.

But populists picking up the tales and myths often seems far from the artists’ intentions.

“Even if musical folklore once owed a debt to nationalism, today, ultranationalism hurts it so much that the damage is far greater than the benefit once was,” Bartok wrote in an essay in 1937.

Earlier this week, we told you about South Korean grandmothers who are learning to read and write for the first time. Their poignant stories reminded our Seoul bureau chief of the older villagers he knew when he was growing up.

That’s it for this briefing. See you next time.

— Inyoung and Katie

Thank you Alisha Haridasani Gupta helped compile today’s briefing. Mark Josephson, Eleanor Stanford and Kenneth R. Rosen wrote the break from the news. Palko Karasz, in our London bureau, wrote today’s Back Story. You can reach the team at briefing@nytimes.com.

P.S. • We’re listening to “The Daily.” Our latest episode is about the end of Omar Hassan al-Bashir’s rule of Sudan. • Here’s our Mini Crossword puzzle, and a clue: Singer who’s part of the celebrity couple “J-Rod” (3 letters). You can find all our puzzles here. • The New York Times translated our Tokyo bureau chief’s five-part look at the Japanese monarchy into Japanese.

[naerokpop]

Internet Friend: Taehyung (BTS)

You glanced nervously at your lab partner, who happened to be your lifelong crush. His eyebrows were furrowed in concentration, carefully trying to dissect the frog open.

You tore your eyes from the dead creature, glad you weren't in charge of that task. He set down the scissors and smiled at his perfect cut down the middle of the amphibian's body.

"Good job, Taehyung," you smiled kindly, hoping it would clear the awkwardness between the two of you.

"Thanks," he smiled back and handed you some tools so you could start doing your work of identifying the parts.

You sighed internally and carefully pulled apart the flesh. Barf. You immediately felt sick looking at the poor thing.

"You okay, Y/N?" He asked, clearly worried. You nodded, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. He brushed his hand against yours and helped you pull out the heart. "There."

You whispered inaudibly,"thank you."

He managed to hear because of how close he was and sent you another heartwarming smile. You blushed even more and turned to look at the classroom's clock. Just a few minutes till class was over.

The teacher instructed your classmates to clean up and everyone obeyed quickly. You sighed in relief once the victim was taken away and you began to pack up your stuff.

"See you tomorrow," Taehyung waved to you.

You were caught by surprise. Today you two actually held a conversation..kinda. You nodded and waved back, trying to conceal your excitement.

You couldn't wait to tell your close internet friend about today, he's going to freak! You were glad someone understood your situation and would actually listen and give advice. Your other friends rarely did so.

Once you boarded the bus home, you pulled out your phone and opened the messenger app.

Y/N: You wont believe what happened today!!!

You waited patiently for his response.

V: you got an A on a pop quiz?

Y/N: as iffff, we spoke a lot today!! thank goodness we were assigned lab partners

V: omg tell me the deets

Y/N: aghhh he's even more beautiful up close!! and like i couldn't stand being around a dead animal so he gladly did most of the work (,: what a gentleman!!

V: you think he's more beautiful than me??

Y/N: well i've never seen you bahaha

V: true, but i guarantee i am the hottest of them all

Y/N: mhm need proof to believe that

V: maybe some day,, anyways i gtg. text you later?

Y/N: see you then (:

You turned your phone off just in time to get off at your stop. You and V (he hasn't told you his real name despite the fact that he knows yours) have been internet friends for about three years now. But, neither of you decided to meet up or facetime yet. Why? You weren't sure. Maybe he was shy or insecure even though he seems very outgoing in reality.

You recalled the moment you two first met.

xxx-xxx-xxxx: dude did you watch the new ep of yoi??

You: you know it!! but who is this lol?

xxx-xxx-xxxx: oh sorry i must've texted the wrong number.. name's v

You: oh hello, we have the same area code, surely you can't be a creep?

V: nahh, you think a creep would watch anime?

You: who knows i'm not one to judge

V: you right

You grinned to yourself as you stepped into your house, shouted a greeting to your family, and dashed up the stairs.

The next day, during biology, you got to sit next to Taehyung once again. You rested your chin onto the palm of your hand as you glanced briefly at Taehyung's face then back towards your teacher.

"Alright, now talk with your partner about these questions," your teacher instructed the class. Soon, the room was filled with chatter.

Taehyung turned to you,"what do you think about number one?"

You tried to answer the question truthfully, but you were honestly lost in this class. "Yeah, I'm not sure... How about you?"

"Well.." he began to speak, but your mind blocked out any noise as you stared as his gorgeous face.

You shook yourself,"yeah, I agree."

He laughed,"okay then."

You joined his laughter awkwardly before moving on to the next question...

At the end of the school day, you quickly pulled out your phone and texted V.

You: i'm such a noob ugh i hate myself

He responded right away.

V: why what's wrong?

You: i'm so embarrassing agh

V: something happen with tae? i'm sure it was fine..

You: i hope ahh i'm just so awkward

V: sure but it's cute

You: you think?

V: definitely

You: (: anyways, your bday's coming up right??

V: yeah lol

You: let's meet up!!

V: ehh idk

You: pleaaase we've been internet friend for years

V: ...i'll think about it... ttyl

You: alright bye

The next day, you noticed how Taehyung seemed to have a lot on his mind. He didn't seem focused at all.

"Everything alright?" You asked quietly.

He smiled slightly at you, but it seemed forced. "Yeah, why?"

"You just seem out of it..I was just worried that's all."

He chuckled softly,"you're cute."

You blushed furiously,"I, uh, well, you think? T-thanks..."

He smiled widely before turning back to the worksheet he was working on. You smiled as well and did the same.

At the end of the day, you immediately got a text from V.

V: yknow what..let's do it.

You: really??!!

V: yeah homie

You: when??

V: today, at the park near your school

You: right now? i'm still at school

V: why not, see you then

You felt your heart quicken, but V seemed kind of uninterested. What if after you two meet, he thinks you're too weird and wants to break your friendship. You sighed and started your walk to the park.

You took a seat on the swings and pulled out your phone to text V. Just as you did so, you heard someone call out your name. Your head shifted to the source and you caught sight of Taehyung.

"H-hey, what're you doing here?" You stuttered and stood up quickly.

"Hey, nah, it's fine take a seat." He sat on the swing next to you,"we scheduled a meetup..remember?"

"We did?" Your eyes widened.

He laughed,"let me introduce myself. Hi, I'm V."

You gasped loudly,"what?! Oh my gosh."

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to tell you." He sighed in relief and stood up.

You followed his actions,"I'm sorry if I weirded you out. I understand if you no longer want to be friends."

"Yeah, you're right. I want to be more than friends, Y/N. I've liked you for as long as you liked me, I've just been too shy to say anything." He confessed. You awed in response. "Come on, let's work on homework." He grasped your hand.

You playfully rolled your eyes,"you're such a dork."

dedicated to my fave tae stan (’: sorry for such a long wait fam!!