#there are strange things happening in my brain and you're all required to deal with it

[serpercival]

Okay so I've been talking about girltrap a bit lately but Stanley Riverside II TJMD is kind of alarmingly transmasc coded. He's cis in the girltrapverse I've established but here's a little bonus piece with his wife EJ because 1) @hesgomorrah and I were talking about t4t stantrap tonight and 2) I can't be bothered to do enough exposition to turn this into a proper ao3 fic.

It was only when they made it into bed that Stanley realized exactly how grave an error he’d made. He thought he deserved to be forgiven for that. How was he supposed to find the time to tell EJ? They’d gotten married so quickly, and since they got somewhere private she’d had her shirt off, and how was he supposed to say anything when she was so distracting? She was trying to distract him. It wasn’t fair.

He finally spoke up when she rolled her eyes, shoved him down to the bed, and started trying to take his pants off.

“Maybe we can do this another night,” he said, trying to squirm away.

EJ huffed. “You told me you wanted to wait until our wedding night.”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, it’s our wedding night.”

She unbuckled his belt.

He grabbed her wrists. “Eej, there’s something you need to know.”

She froze, brow crinkled in an absoluely adorable way. “What’s that?”

Well, there was the rub: he had no idea what to say. “I don’t. Um. I mean, the situation downstairs is– well, it’s not–“

EJ smiled, leaned in, and kissed him on the nose. “Do you know what you’re doing with it?”

“Um. Well, Trapper showed me some tricks, so–“

“Trapper.”

“Uh-huh.”

The look on EJ’s face was no longer what he would call good. In fact, it was extremely worrying. “What exactly do you mean by that?”

Stanley bit his lip. “Well, she– I mean, she used to– she knows what a man’s supposed to do, you know?”

“How so?”

He probably shouldn’t say it. Trapper had told him not to say it. But he could share secrets with his wife, couldn’t he? He definitely could. That was part of what wives were for. “She used to– I wouldn’t do that, I mean, I’m not letting a surgeon anywhere near my underparts, thank you very much, especially not a plastic surgeon, you can’t trust them, so even if I– Trapper had good work done, you know, but that’s– that’s an outlier, it’s not like most people are going to end up with something good if they let a surgeon cut up their bits and turn them into something else, and maybe– maybe it was because– apparently there was a lot there to turn into something else, so– not that I’m jealous or anything, why would I be jealous? It’s just–“

“Stanley.”

Stan froze, mouth half open.

EJ grabbed his face in her hands. “I want you to answer me honestly. I won’t be angry.”

He squirmed again. She didn’t let go of his face. “Alright.”

“Do you have a penis?”

He thought about it. “Yes. Kind of.”

“Kind of?”

“Well, it’s– I mean, it’s not– not a real one, it’s kind of– it didn’t used to be, but– Trapper says it counts, so–“

“And that’s why you don’t want me to take off your pants.”

Stan nodded, cheeks flaming. “I probably should have told you we can’t have kids before now, huh?”

EJ smiled, rolled her eyes, and squished his cheeks. “We can adopt.”

[shut-up-danny-kun]

today I bring you a chunk of a Spirk WIP that will probably never be finished. I thought someone might still enjoy it.

(Bones and Spock talking and both being extremely stubborn. Teen and up.)

* * *

It was strange, sitting at a table with Dr. McCoy and watching him sip from his cup of (frankly, disgusting) earl grey tea. Spock himself had opted for a traditional Vulcan blend of medicinal plants - his only source of vitamins for the past five days. The tea warmed his empty stomach, reducing the pain slightly.

“Well?” McCoy suddenly asked.

“Excuse me?”

“I've sat down and had your damn tea. Are you going to explain what's going on in that magnificent brain of yours?”

Spock put his half-empty mug on the table.

“You will, obviously, not disclose any of this information to anyone.”

“Of course, not unless it's required for your treatment.”

“Including the captain.”

The doctor sighed quietly and looked at Spock with a pained expression.

“No. I can't guarantee you that and I can't lie. But I can guarantee that I will try my best to make sure he doesn't have to know. Deal?”

A terrible predicament. The captain finding out lead either to the worst or the best outcome, and the odds leaned heavily towards the former. Still, Spock was going to have to trust the CMO's word.

“Deal.”

He took a deep breath, steadying himself, very aware of McCoy's gaze on him.

“You are correct in your assertion that I have not been eating for the past five days. I have also been unable to meditate or enter deep sleep for twelve days.”

McCoy sighed sadly.

“You know, Spock, I have to hand to you - for a man who hasn't slept in almost two weeks, you do a great job of pretending you're fine,” he remarked.

Indeed, Spock felt a surge of pride.

“Why, thank you, Doctor.”

“Any ideas on what's causing this?”

This was the delicate part: he needed to find a way to explain the problem while skirting around the root cause, and McCoy had just proved that his reasoning skills were above average.

“Extended mental strain.”

McCoy's eyebrows rose.

“Oh. Alright, that's something. See, now I'm going to have to talk to Jim so he'd reduce your workload...”

“No.”

“No?”

“The strain is not work-related. In fact, my research is one of the few things that distract me from it.”

Spock picked his cup back up and drained the rest of the tea in one big gulp. McCoy leaned towards him in his chair.

“As you are aware, Vulcans were once a deeply impulsive species. Though we have learned to retain control over our minds, some impulses still remain that must be...supressed.”

McCoy took a second to process before making an induction.

“So, you're supressing something powerful.”

Spock hated to be obvious, but somehow, he was relieved that McCoy said it for him. He nodded silently.

“What is it, then?”

“I'm afraid I cannot disclose that information.”

“It may be crucial!”

“If you can indeed treat me, you do not need to know. There are urges which cannot be acted upon.”

The doctor leaned back in his chair, thinking.

“Hmm... Give me a moment.”

A minute ticked by in silence as he finished his tea. Spock listened to the calming thrum of the warp engines, imperceptible to the human ear. Then, McCoy spoke again:

“Can you tell me this: does your condition possibly have anything to do with your recently broken bond to that woman, T'Pring? I know it happened months ago, but it's possible you're only feeling the effects now.“

Spock was once again astonished by the doctor's intuition, and found that his respect for the man was growing by the minute. Not that he'd ever admit that. He had not even considered the impact of a broken bond.

“That may be a contributing factor.”

A satisfied smile spread across McCoy's face.

“Well, Mister Spock, the good news is you don't have to tell me anything, because I think I know exactly what's going on here.”

Spock's heartbeat sped up. Surely, he couldn't...

“Three words: James Tiberius Kirk.”

His stomach dropped at the mention of his name, and all hope was lost. He knew, and Spock was nothing but an open book. Far away, a galaxy exploded.

He jumped to his legs to do something, stop this somehow, but what could he do? Erase McCoy's memory? It would be unacceptable even in such dire circumstances. So he stood there uselessly and stared at him, somewhere between enraged and scared.

The doctor, meanwhile, looked amused.

“You've given me all the puzzle pieces! “Please don't tell the captain”, said you're supressing an emotion - and wouldn't you know it, your marriage bond happens to be broken and unoccupied. Wouldn't you like Jim to move in?”

He chuckled.

“Look at you! A pointy-eared machine of a man, dying of lovesickness. Never thought I'd see the day.”

“You dissapoint me, doctor,” Spock said, his voice low and dark, “I had hoped you were performing your duties as a healer. I see now you are here merely to humiliate me.”

McCoy stood up also, and his smile faded.

“No! This is all to help you. I said I'd heal you and I will, one way or another.”

“Allow me to make a prediction. You suggest reporting to the captain himself.”

“Yes! Don't you think Jim deserves to know?”

“Quite the opposite. Informing him would put him in an extremely disadvantageous position. If he were to reject me, he might reason that he is to blame for my suffering.”

The doctor looked at him. There was something melancholic in his blue eyes, as if he was remembering some other story similar to Spock's.

“Did it ever occur to you that he might reciprocate?”

Spock's heart began to hammer, his mind soared. It was a beautiful thought.

“Unlikely.”

McCoy smirked and sat down again. He shook his head, more to himself than to Spock.

“You think you're so clever, and yet you know nothing.”

Spock stood there quietly, wrestling with his mental defenses.

“I'm no expert either, but you'd have to be blind to not notice that Jim's crazy about you! The whole damn ship knows already! He looks at you like you're some kind of supernova. All I hear from him in sickbay is “where's Spock?” and “how's Spock?”, and when he's singing the blues over a glass of whiskey, what does he tell me? Spock again. The doctor's orders are to go to his quarters right now and tell him exactly what you're feeling. Jim will provide you with all the treatment you need.”

How naïve, Spock thought.

“All is not as simple as you suggest.”

McCoy was obviously dead set on his answer.

“Well, do it your way. I don't know your courting rituals.”

“That is not the issue. For humans, relationships are a far more trivial concern. If I were to take Jim as a...partner,” Spock explained, struggling to form words, “It would have to be forever.”

McCoy's expression was incomprehensible. He thought for a beat, and then sighed.

“Because of the mental bond?”

“Yes.”

“Alright, I agree, that's a big commitment. But that's even more reason to talk to him about it.”

Spock trembled, struggling to keep his emotions leashed.

“I prefer to live in ignorance, Doctor.”

At least this way, the glimmer of hope kept his heart beating. He imagined Jim saying he couldn't agree to spend his whole life with one partner, saying he preffered a human, a woman, that he simply didn't love Spock. He closed his eyes and clenched his teeth painfully. He doubted he would survive the rejection.

“Spock, are you alright?”

Do not let go. Do not let go. If he were to slip up, then...yes, now he knew what would happen. He would break down crying. He would be unworthy of calling himself a Vulcan. Blood drainined from his limbs, his body quaking, his head feeling like it was being crushed in a hydraulic press.

“Spock. Listen to me. Take a breath.”

He opened his mouth. The air filled his burning lungs.

“Good. Breathe out.”

He obeyed.

“Let's do that again. Breathe in slowly...breathe out. In, out, in, out...”

For a moment, he could let his brain rest and numbly listen to Dr. McCoy's voice. He breathed until his heartbeat slowed slightly, and opened his eyes.

McCoy was bent over Spock where he had collapsed on the chair, close, but not touching him. He could feel the doctor's compassion simply from the way he spoke.

“You've made your point. You need medical interference. Can you stand?”

Spock put his hands down on the chair and slowly pushed himself up.

“Good. In ten minutes, I want you down in medbay for infrasound therapy. We will also discuss medications and give you some hypos with nutrients.”

“You will not tell the captain,” Spock whispered weakly.

“No, I won't. Swear on my badge.”

They stood in silence for a while, the weight of what had just transpired heavy on their shoulders.

“Thank you, doctor.”

“It's my job.”

[leggerefiore]

we already know how the submas brothers deal with a s/o who's sick, but how about author's choice of headcanons for characters taking care of their s/os? (the recent cold weather in my area has caused me to develop an ear issue, tbh i know cyrus probably wouldn't help but the image of emotion man failing to heat up soup in a microwave makes me feel a little better,,)

ear pains are the worst. my sinuses clogged and my ears wouldn't pop and I wanted to Die.

characters: Cyrus, Volo, Elesa, and Irida

🌌Cyrus🛰

☄️ Terror after you begin to show symptoms. His emotions come flooding back to him, and you are being notably avoided. Cyrus knows he seems cruel, but he wants to avoid getting sick. The very idea would set him back by who knows how much and annoys him. He is kind enough to buy you whatever you request, but it is left outside your bedroom door in a basket.

☄️ As stated, he's buying you whatever you want. If you, for whatever reason, wanted some food dish that is insanely expensive and doesn't require him preparing it, you'll have it. He just won't hand it off to you directly. Poor guy approaches you in gloves, mask, and goggles if he has to. He procures all kinds of medicines for you. Too much. You are certain to be bought every form of ibuprofen for some reason.

☄️ After he notices your lack of appetite, be it from being unconscious for many hours or just being too exhausted to do anything, he sighs and accepts his fate. People avoid the canned soup aisle as he stares at the options intensely. He has no idea which of these works best. You wake up to a knock on the door and French onion soup in a bowl. You wonder his plans.

☄️ Even if you're crying in front of him (his literal one weakness), he is refusing to touch you. The Team Galactic Boss does not want to be ill. Ever. The idea of his admins funnelling into his apartment annoyed him. Though, he does feel awful for your condition. You get a Weavile or Crobat to cuddle with, depending on your preference. (Crobat makes a great pillow, but Weavile's purrs help with headaches. Choose wisely.)

-----

Everything felt bad. Your head pounded, your throat tickled, every time you coughed or sneezed you felt more and more upset. The stuffiness allowed no more blowing your nose for now. Tears blurred your eyes as you felt alone. Hiccuping quietly to yourself, you reached for the tissues. A knock suddenly rasped from the door, a deep voice called out to you, “I am home and I brought more medicine.” You sighed. Cyrus did not seem to grasp that you had more than enough. The sound of a pokeball opening rang out, and a familiar cry soon followed. “Once more, I am apologetic that you have fallen ill. I hope my pokemon is a nice enough substitute for me in this time,” Cyrus spoke with finality before waking off. You laughed until you coughed.

💫Volo📜

⭐️ Gross, he says, stepping away from you. He immediately tells you that you pushed yourself too far for Team Galaxy and demands you rest for a day or two. His friendly demeanour is always there, but always made you remember everything that happened between you both. You do as he says and wake up to a steaming cup of tea beside you alongside a warm rag on your forehead. It's obvious this was either his or Cogita's actions.

⭐️ He brings you whatever he thinks can help you with your symptoms. There's little in proper medicine during this period of time, but you get meals cooked with medicinal leeks and oran berries quite often. His concern is oddly apparent. You then remember that even things like the cold had a decent fatality rate in this time period. You're gifted little trinkets, too, that he thinks may help make you feel better.

⭐️ He's no cook, but having been on his own for a while, he does know how to make things that at least fall under edible. You awake to more of his medicinal soup at your bedside and start feeling a strange warmth in your chest despite the fog in your brain from sickness. Volo can be oddly sweet in his own way.

⭐️ He's not cuddling with you, even if you're begging him to. Volo will, however, sit near you and speak with you. You're updated on goings-on in Hisui and wonder how he manages to get this information despite having “vanished.” Sometimes, his hand drifts near yours and holds it for a moment. The soft warmth from him is much appreciated. You do swear that you wake up and feel a warm spot in the futon beside you, but Volo never is around for you to question when it happens.

-----

You woke up from a nightmare, desperately gasping for air. The sudden amounts of air triggered a coughing fit and had you leaning forward as your head throbbed from the sinus pressure swelling in your head. The door to your small, shared home slid open, and a hand rubbed your back. Volo's hair was down and running over his shoulders gorgeously as his stormy eye gazed at you intensely. The emotional high came down, and you managed to regain your breath. Laying back down, you sighed as he ringed out a rag to lay across your forehead. “… If only this happened after you received the last of the plates,” he sighed, “Do get better, my angel.” You nodded and sneezed into a hand cloth. He grimaced. His face almost made you laugh.

⚡️Elesa🌟

⭐️ Panics when you start showing symptoms. Immediately searching whatever could be wrong with you while also forcing you to lay down. A humidifier is plugged and tissues are left on the bedside table. Her next thoughts are if she needs to take off work and what to do if she gets sick, too. She tries to recall what she knows about sickness and debates asking help from her friends.

⭐️ She goes to buy medicine and returns with a distressing amount. The idea of seeing you in pain bothers her too much. She's quickly concocting a potion of medications, but you'll likely need to ask her to slow it down a little. She's just worried for you, in the end, but her panic results in a potion of bone hurting more than a cold cure. Small gifts of chocolates or similar things are left for you, too, as a surprise.

⭐️ Her cooking is not… the best. She's a busy woman that doesn't have the time to settle down and cook, but she does know a guy. A certain train adjacent man comes over and helps her make soup for you, to which she eagerly gifts you while offering to feed you. If you're feeling lethargic enough, there probably won't be a question, just your girlfriend making sure you eat something. (She also aggressively makes health teas for you to drink to help you stay hydrated and get some extra vitamins you might be lacking).

⭐️ She knows she shouldn't, but seeing you so ill and pitiful, she crawls into bed with you and cuddles you. Elesa tries to massage your temples to help with any head pain and presses a sneaky kiss or two to your cheek. The gym leader coos over your weakened state while trying to make sure you feel comfortable. She also leaves her Ampharos to keep you company as a cuddly friend when she has work.

-----

You coughed so hard that your head pulsed with pain during each nearly involuntary actions. It was unknown where you caught this vulgar affliction, but when you found out, you would attack whoever passed it along. Ampharos nuzzled into you with a quiet bleat. Electric types always held a pleasant warmth. Just as you were drifting off from the soft comfort of your girlfriend's pokemon, the door of the room opened. Elesa peered in carefully, steaming bowl of soup in her hands. “Oh!” her face grew flustered, “Sorry, sweetie… Ingo brought you some more soup, since he was worried when I said you really weren't eating a lot.” She held the bowl forward. You smiled. Her friends were extremely kind. “It's okay,” you managed to respond, “His cooking is really nice; I'll have some.” She giggled and took a seat beside you, setting the bowl on the night stand. You managed to raise up from the embrace of the sheep and enjoy a nice meal with some banter from your lover.

❄️Irida🦪

⚪️ Poor thing is heavily concerned when you get sick. Obviously, getting sick in this time period isn't something preferred. Especially when you're a member of a rural clan in a region that has had little to no modern development. She demands that you take time off from your Survey Corps work and rest. Irida will go to Kamado if you don't request it yourself. Preferably, too, she can keep you in the Pearl Settlement, but she also acknowledges the benefit of the Galaxy Team's more advanced medical knowledge.

⚪️ Medicine isn't exactly the same as it is modernly, so you're more likely given herbal teas and ground up spices to help with your affliction. If you need to be cooled, she leaves her dear Glaceon at your side, but if you need to be warmed, you're given her Flareon. There's little she can do outside of keeling you company and hoping you get better. She may start hunting for a Blissey if her concern gets bad enough. The legends of their caring natures and healing capabilities aren't unknown to her, after all.

⚪️ You are often shaken awake from your sickness induced slumber to be offered a warm bowl of soup with plenty of medicinal leaks and oran berries inside to help with your health or a tea that's made from herbs that are believed to help manage pain and sickness. She's incredibly soft in these moments, chiding you lightly about not getting proper nutrients. The Pearl Clan leader knows she's seen you go against Noble pokemon at their most powerful, but she can't help but worry. Maybe using all your energy against them left you vulnerable. She'd try to ask the Sinnoh for help, but you captured it. (This helps her believe you'll get better. After all, no ordinary person could capture such powerful pokemon and wield them.)

⚪️ She does maintain a slight distance until you're seemingly getting better. Irida would remain at your beside during the worst parts of your sickness, but during the more manageable moments, she let you rest your head in her lap and stroked your hair. Often, she suggests you sit in the hot springs, but you jokingly ask her to join you in that case. Her face is deadly serious when she says she will. In the end, you would say her kindness and conversation made you feel better than any of the medicines, admittedly.

----

You pressed the small ice fox closely to your head and sighed. Glaceon let out a small sound, but ultimately adjusted herself to lay comfortably near your forehead. There was some irony about using the ice type to help with your cold while in the middle of the most frigid place in Hisui, but that was currently lost to you. The door to the hut opened and revealed your girlfriend covered in a slight layer of snow. “How are you feeling?” she asked, coming to sit by your bed. This had become a custom since you became sick. Glaceon cried out a greeting to her beloved friend, which made you whine. Too much vibrating. “I think I'll take you up on the hot spring offering,” you managed, “After I stop feeling so cold…” Her hand reached forward to press against your forehead. The back of her hand brushed against your cheek as concern filled her eyes. She already had so much to worry about, and you just added more to her plate. “I'm sorry, Iri, you don't have to worry about me so much, I'll be fine,” you told her. Irida shook her head. “I'll get started on a good healthy meal for you,” she said dutifully, standing up proud, “You will be better in no time.”

[talisidekick]

A Continuation

"Okay, so help me understand this: you're all not sidekicks?" My fingers thrum across the wooden desk, headache pounding, brain still stuck trying not to be awake at 3am.

"No, and we're going to ..." The apparent leader begins but my sudden shushing actually works, his voice gratingly loud coming to a pause as hands try to muffle ears. It's like icicles being stabbed into ear-drums painfully loud.

"You're too loud. It's 3am!" I complain, hoping it might help them talk quieter.

"Inside voices, please." One of the robots detaining them chimes in rather sweetly. The voice smooth and surprisingly calming. Like a professor or teacher talking to students.

"You're strangely nice for a-" One of the others, wearing an open winter coat in the middle of summer starts but is cut short. Either a bold fashion choice or she's the ice bitch that froze half my building. She better not have frozen any living staff.

"Silence. You were not spoken to, child." The same robot scolds in a very angry and suddenly menacingly metalic voice.

"Thank you Margie." My head is still pounding.

"You're welcome, dear. You should-" the robot pauses for a split second mid sentence, "try drinking water and taking a pain-killer with food."

"Mhm. So, please answer quietly, but you five are ... heroes then?"

"Yes," replies one of the others looking vehemently at me and offering nothing more.

"And ... you, what? Came to ambush me in my sleep? Arrest me? Under what charges?"

"Forced labour." Says one, judging by her dress and the fact my library is half garden right now, she's the plant-themed one.

"My staff, workers, etc. are employees. Unionized too, I might add, pensioned, and rather obscenely health ensured. We even pay for all funeral costs. Next?"

"Public endangerment." Says the leader, angrily.

"Any and all assets that have gone rogue, malfunctioned, or otherwise endangered the public were accidents, and we've rebuilt all damaged buildings, properties, public spaces and even improved local infrastructure to compensate as well as funded any and all medical costs down to therapy required by injured or traumatized individuals caught by surprise near the incident locations in question. All charges have been dropped. We're an emerging tech company, shit happens. Next!"

The sound of air wooshing at my back. Knew I shouldn't have opened the deck window. I turn on my chair, fingers interlaced expecting my robot guards to deal with this new intruder. Only they don't, and I meet the angry eyes of the last person I want to really tangle with right now.

"Oookay, look, this isn't what it looks like. They broke in, trashed half my home ... slash ... office ... lair ... thing. And were planning to kidnap m-"

She's standing over me, glaring, too close. Probably the most problematic 'hero' for me. Not the strongest, just the one with the most experience dealing with my work. An eyebrow raises, a smirk.

"Your robe is open, I can basically see both tits. Also ... am I still allow-listed? Isn't that a huge security risk for you?"

I snap my robe closed. "I sleep naked, and ..."

"I remember. You also sleep-walk and talk. You kidnapped me for a weekend. Blackmailed me to stay. Came into my room at midnight sleep-walking, lied down next to me the whole night, and said some really interesting and disturbing things." She crosses her arms, eyebrow raised. "And I'm still allow-listed."

"I don't sleep-talk."

"You do." she laughs, more like a bull exhaling out it's nose than an actual laugh.

"Oh, this is rich. You're working with the enemy. The public is going to love this." Chimes one of the captive 'heroes', laughing. "You're so done."

"Love what?" She asks, spinning me around to face them again, practically pushing me into the desk. She walks around the desk and crouches down holding up her phone. "The livestream you're not broacasting?"

"We accounted for that, we're also recording." Says another, grinning.

"Firstly, never admit that while inside a villains evil lair-slash-office-home whatever." She says standing up. "Secondly, you aren't." She turns back to me, phone camera pointed in my direction. "Say something incriminating." She demands.

Smiling, I reply while resting my still throbbing head in my hand: "All the buildings I trash or destroy I have actually already bought using shell companies and exorbitantly over insured. Each "fight" is staged to damage those buildings so I can claim the full amount to tear the remaining parts down and rebuild them as low in-come and affordable housing in areas with over-inflated renting and housing costs. Those buildings always have the tenants temporarily evicted weeks prior, their property moved to storage and hotels prepaid for and cover all excessive damage I can't mitigate. All of this is of course paid for by the aforementioned insurance fraud. And with the property value of that neighbourhood or area dropping, I buy up the now cheapened properties to further develop the area for people needing affordable renting arrangements to generate consistent revenue. I also always give a minimum 30 minute monologue so people can safely evacuate out of the staged fighting area."

"You just said all of that on recording." The leader of the captive hero's states, shocked.

"Did she? Lets play that back." Says the other hero, my nemesis. The video starts and I can hear it: "Say something incriminating" then silence. Nothing. And disbelieving looks. I laugh, which draws a glare from all of them. Including miss pain-in-my-ass. I'm finally awake.

"You're fools. Aerial nanites, one kilometer radius. They mute sound waves in the last 100 meters to be unintelligible and erase all recordings of me doing anything incriminating on every electronic device, powered or unpowered." Their faces are so funny. Agape. Looking like idiot children. I can't help but laugh harder.

"That's why there's no evidence against you?" On of the captives asks.

"YES!" yells my nemesis, frustrated. "She deletes it all as it happens and prevents long distance recordings. And the public won't testify against her, not really, because every time she shows up, property value drops making them pay less taxes and lowers insurance premiums. They know. That's why they support her charities."

"But she's evil! A criminal! She's destructive and dangerous! She's ..." says another, the ice-bitch.

"A criminal, yes. But never in a single one of her schemes has a single civilian ever been critically injured or killed. She's frightening, but not evil. The other villains are. They kill people. She's just ... showy. Flashy. An easy media attention piece that no-one can prove is actually her."

"We know, we could testify." Chimes the one in all black. What is he, an assassin?

"Testify on what? Breaking and entering? Attempted kidnapping? Attempted interrogation and torture?" My nemesis asks. "You have nothing. Right here, right now, she's won."

"So why are you here?" Asks the leader. "To prove you're with the most villainous person on the planet to us, to rub it in?"

"To ask her not to press charges on you 5 and jail you for months, which would give actual villains free reign." My nemesis sighs, walking over and not missing a beat by laying her hands on the desk. "And I'm prepared to offer you a d-".

"No." My statement takes her by surprise, but I hold my hand up to let me continue. "I'm evil incarnate to you six, right?"

"The worst." Admits the gardener girl with hatred in every word. "Wait ..."

"Yeah, I can see your invisible friend. Knocking the pot on that pedestal was a dead give-away. And so was leaning against my wall so my heat sensors could pick you up. Margie, show them out, unharmed. Then deny-list them so the defences won't be so light next time." I look at my nemesis. "Happy?"

"Impressed." She admits watching them begrudgingly go. "But it was the nanites that ..."

"Picked up the invisible one, yeah. Also, really high cholesterol in that one. Needs to eat healthier. Though keeping a straight face with the vase was hard."

She glares at me. Hard. "That's invasive. Medical information is priv-"

"I'm a villain. And my nanites monitor people in their radius so I can guarantee their safety."

"You're not a villain." She says dully. "You're a rich kid playing at being a an evil mastermind. In reality you're a petty criminal who's only crimes are insurance fraud and market manipulation at worst. But you'd sell the whole act if you didn't keep donating to rebuilding duck ponds and funding homeless shelters." A pause. "Do better. You don't need to be looking that deep. A pulse check is enough."

Why did that make me feel ... guilt ... gross.

"Oh, then if I'm such a petty criminal, cuff me and take me in." That got her mad. Think she just cracked the desk. "But do they really think I'm evil?"

"Don't get your hopes up, they're new and just bought the media drivel." She states, walking out. I should ask. Maybe? Fuck it.

"Follow up question, about the last time I ... when you ... um ... nev-"

"Saturday, 8pm. I'll be here." She says pointing down to the very spot she stopped at. "I'll bring the food, you choose the movie."

"Really?"

"You just gotta promise you won't pull anything in the next two months." She smirks. Kind of makes me wonder who's the villain here. She steps onto the balconys stone railing. "See? All you had to do was ask."

And she was gone.

... and this chair is too squeaky.

You are a well-respected Villain. You caused only necessary minor Damages, you never purposefully took a life, and you made sure to keep a strict Code when dealing with civilians. But for some reason, some of the younger Newbie Heroes seem to think you are Evil Incarnate

[slashingdisneypasta]

Gotham Villains x Hotel Owner!Reader || Headcanons

Explanation / Topic: You run one of the cities dingy hotels except this one, in all of its glory, is only ever visited by bad guys. Your hotel is well known as the place rogues hide away in when they're planning or they're just out of action for a while because you refuse to give up information to the police no matter what (Its proprietor-client confidentiality! Ha ha) and you're treat them fairly (Although- on the kinder side of course)

These are the many ways they show their gratitude, no matter how small.

Character involved: Most, if not all, of Fox Gotham's rogues. Except Ra's Al Ghul because he bores me. Nevertheless, not just the Legion Horrible's like the picture might lead you to believe- that's just the picture with the most villains that I could think of.

Warnings: Probably too much fluff. I'll make a sequel to this with the less-then-pretty, nitty grotty details of this hotel too probably XD

Barbara likes to invest every now and then, "Just making sure my affairs are in order baby- gotta make sure my hidey hole's still there when I need it." but she always adds a little something for you to buy yourself 'something pretty' (Since your style is SO plain, according to her but then again who isn't plain compared to her XD). This little something is always upwards of a hundred dollars. She's such a sugar mommy you cant convince me that she isn't-

Butch (Or Cyrus Gold, or Grundy. he has too many names) has made it clear that if you ever need help, you can always call him and he'll be there. Very gangsta about it. He's such a big, tough guy but such a softy on the inside XD When he had Grundy brain, he still had some kind of tracker in his mind like dogs do that took him 'home' (To your hotel), dragging Ed along with him. He gave you a big, bone crushing hug when he got there.

Dr Strange is not allowed in as he'll steal your guests and experiment on them.

You don't know Ecco too well yet and vice versa but when she turned up with Jeremiah and Jervis- you definitely appreciated her presence more then that of Jeremiah's. You were still sore over Jerome and didn't trust this new brother. Still, you complimented the bullet in Ecco's skull, saying it was pretty cool, and now she loves you XD When she's in the neighbourhood she occasionally likes to pop in and say hello; Spread a little chaos, you know the deal.

Honestly you probably new Bridgit long before Strange forcing upon her the heat resistance thing and her becoming Firefly. She of course didn't remember you but soon *warmed* up to you after you gave her one of the few rooms with a fireplace and easily forgave her when she accidentally set the couch in her room on fire (I mean its for sure not the worst thing that has happened within these walls- no worries). She has been known to go around lighting the fireplaces for you under the pretence of having fun (Which is true) but also so that you can worry about one less thing. Firefly is also one to come chat with you if she's bored.

Fish Mooney obviously doesn't stay with you very often at all, because this lady can find better dwellings (As, no offense but your hotel is kiiiiinda dingy. What can you do about it, though? You house rogues and a lot of them don't have a lotta money) but she still absolutely appreciates what you do. She'll send bad guys that she does business with that have deeper pockets then your usual client, your way. She's also kind to you, which to me is even better honestly haha XD

Headhunter stays with you a lot when he's on business and often reminds you that you get a discount from him if you require his services. Hey, you keep him in milkshakes! He's gotta repay you somehow.

Okay, the twins. You knew Jerome first and got off to a bad start with Jeremiah due to that. Still, we aren't talking about relationships; We're talking about nice things. So moving on. Just assume that you warm up to the brainier twin.

These two are hard XD Cuz their 'good' and 'bad' sides kinda blur together as they're so unpredictable and don't really care about anyone.

Still, I can see Jerome being pretty light with you and valuing the fact that you can keep up with his banter- so he keeps you alive. You're basically his mother actually, despite the possible lack of age difference. Like, he wants to show you stuff he does and tell you about chaos he's created.

And Jeremiah honestly appreciates that you'll listen to his long speeches (You've gotten pretty good at just sitting and nodding your head and you've perfected the art of the well placed understanding noises like 'Hmm' and 'Ah!' and 'Oh dear' in your line of work)- so obviously, you're invaluable to him. Must keep you around. I mean, Ecco listens, but does she really understand? That is the question.

When he's around, Jervis is very polite and gracious. He'll duck into the kitchens after dinner and start helping you with the dishes and clear dining tables, he'll ask you how you are and mean it (Like, he'll stand there and discuss it with you), he'll try to keep Jerome from barging into your room in the early hours of the morning, etc. Just nice things like that ^^

Magpie tries not to steal from you... Haha XD Like, she'll pick up a pretty clock off a mantle piece and then go to leave with it... then realise that this is yours and go 'Oops!!' and put it back, giggling nervously.

... When she leaves you still find various items from other places in the hotel, in her room, but still. The fact that she tries is enough!

Mr Freeze is a pleasure to have around, of course!! He's quiet, he nods to you when he passes, and he's there to freeze assholes that harass you (And then take them outside so they don't melt all over your carpet). A respectful dude. He has frozen Jerome multiple times... particularly when Jervis has been unsuccessful in persuading him not to wake you up at 3 in the morning.

Ivy gets so happy whenever she sees you. Lots of hugs and telling you all about how she's been. Her energy is enough to cheer you up, and on your birthdays she always brings you a new plant that has meaning to her. Like, a sunflower for how kind you are, a Ficus for abundance, etc. Always in a pot of course, never dead. So of course, you have to take care of them but its a small price to pay for the sweetness ^^ And the not being murdered thing.

Like Mooney and Barbara, Oswald doesn't stay often due to having that mansion from his father but he remembers your kindness from when he would fall on hard times before that (And after the fact, too of course) and whenever he's making some kind of mafia deal he always ensures your and your hotels safety in the contract.

Pyg / Lazlo (I cant decide which name I like best XD) is just very polite, like Jervis. Gentlemen. Also his impressions- God. Have fun with that. He might just do your favourite Looney Tune character if he's in a good mood.

With Ed... look, if you even try with his riddles without being prompted, he'll do anything for you. It's well documented. I'm not sur about nice deeds, cuz Riddler's kind of a dick, but he'll for sure send you a birthday card every year! Christmas probably too ^^

Scarecrow: I will not spray you today. You: Gee thanks. // No but seriously, he's quiet about his gratitude but he is definitely once of the good ones ^^ Would absolutely take it upon himself to come save your ass if you got abducted.

Tabitha... well, you know how Headhunter will you get a discount if you want someone killed? Tabitha will do it for fucking free.

Hey, if you feed Victor (Zsasz), you have a friend for life. He will bring pizza and just hang out together. He is also willing to murder someone for you.

[rcksmith]

Spring breeze part.2 — Spencer Reid

Gif by @ssadrreid

Sumarry: Spencer never thought about falling in love with someone, but he certainly didn't expect that he would fall in love with Gideon's daughter. — season 3 —

Part.1 Part.3 Part.4

A/N: I was very happy with the return you guys had in the first part💖. I hope you guys like.

English is not my first language, so I so sorry if have a mistake.

Requests are open. Love you ❤️ Couple:Spencer Reid / Gideon's daughter!reader.

Warnings: nothing, just very fluff.

— — — — —

Spencer straightened his tie for the hundredth time in front of the mirror, in several unsuccessful attempts to exhibit his best that day. It was funny and ironic how, after so many years wearing dress shirts and a tie, the universe seemed to handpick that day to do - no matter how much Spencer tried to fix it - his tie looked weird. The fabric was too far to the left, or too far to the right, or too wrinkled in the folds. No matter how much he undid the knot or changed his tie, still looked strange.

What a nightmare.

Reid was barely able to sleep with the notion that he would see you today, his body being whipped assiduously by unsettling waves of euphoria, his mind whizzing like a propellant, anxiety screaming in his mind and sending his sleep for miles away. That morning, the world seemed to be more stuffy, hot and torrid, and for a second, Reid felt himself under the heat of Egypt instead of autumn in Washington.

He could feel his heart speeding up with the steps of the clocks, his breath running away from his lungs, a thousand and one speeches being revised in his head to try to lessen the likelihood of speaking some bullshit near you. Because he couldn't ruin that chance.

Spencer knew he was not the type of guy to have dates whit women like you every day. In fact, Laila had been the only stunning woman who had looked at him a second time. But, well, to be honest, he knew that all that affection she had directed him had been side effects of the transfer. He had been her hero and it clouded people's rationality. And, to his disquiet and to the dread of his insecurity, you were above the beauty of Laila on stratospheric levels.

To make matters worse, the damn tie wasn't good! God, he was screwed.

Spencer gave up on that impossible mission, settling for and conforming to what the tie looked like after the twentieth attempt. He wanted you to see him as a handsome person, a man worth wasting time with, not a boy who only served to be your friend. You were beautiful on so many levels that... well, Reid wanted you to be attracted to him, too, to simplify.

He stepped away from the mirror and slung his work bag over his shoulder, trying to control the pounding of his own heart.

On the way to work, trying hard to avoid thinking about what him looked like in that damned imperfect tie, Reid wondered, for a moment, if you too were under the same emotions. Did you change your clothes several times because you also felt anxious too? Could it be that, like him hands, yours also trembled? Or, if he was lucky, was your heart beating as hard as him?

He hoped that was yes.

As soon as he entered the BAU headquarters, with anxiety as his chaperone, Spencer sat at his own table while pouring a “Good morning” to his colleagues.

“Arrived early.” Derek narrowed his eyes at him, in that suspicious look.

"I am never late." He was quick to hit and that caused his friend to raise an eyebrow.

"But you never be anxious to get here earlier."

Sometimes Spencer hated that his friends were profiles.

“I just like my job.” Reid started to unpack things of bag, trying to avoid the look of Derek who was still burning his back.

“Oh, I'm sure you like.” The double meaning in his friend's tone did not go unnoticed by Spencer, but he did not want to delve into the truths of that argument, much less think about it.

Emily and JJ arrived after a few minutes, with Garcia following behind and making their point that she was not to blame for buying those pairs of shoes, since they were practically begging her to take them. Normally, Reid did not look at the glass door whenever he heard someone approaching, or had a strong desire to see Gideon pass through them as well.

But that day... that day, seeing Gideon meant seeing you. And seeing you meant that you would go through that door. And going through that door meant that Spencer would see you come in. That was enough to make his gaze turn to those doors from minute to minute.

But time passed. Fifteen minutes flew by, then twenty, then thirty. Anxiety increased and now his agitated heart was tuned to his right leg, which did not stop quietly, shaking from top to bottom assiduously.

“What do you look for at the door so much, Reid?”

Prentiss asked the last question that Reid would like to answer, and that caught Derek’s attention, who, as expected, laughed amusingly and sank further into the chair, a sly, playful smile on his lips.

“Oh, he is expecting a member of the Gideon family.”

Spencer swore and, in that moment, he was never so jealous of ostriches for being able to stick their heads underground. If he were one of them, he would definitely do it.

“I'm not expecting Y/n.” he said, whit voice higher and thin than usual.

“But I didn't say it was Y/n.” Derek laughed and Spencer felt his cheeks go red.

This time he gave up hitting back, his let out a bad mood murmur and turned forward, forcing himself not to look at the door anymore. From that moment on, Spencer focused on focusing on the pile of reports in front of him, forcing his brain to disconnect from the things around him and concentrate on matters that demand his all attention.

The hours went by, faster this time, the case-free day was being used to finish late reports and giving the team time to recover the nerves and breath of the last case.

After noon, Gideon still hadn't arrived and Spencer started to feel slightly fearful. He was about to take his phone out of his pocket and dial Jason when JJ appeared, handing over more piles of reports to they that required to be finished today.

Derek gave a loud curse of annoyance, muttering something and back to writing again. Emily was used to the paperwork bureaucracy, but from the bittersweet and dissatisfied look on her face, Spencer knew that no one there shared the same delight him had with paperwork. He also knew that Morgan was exhausted because he had remodeled a property yesterday and was barely could to sleep, and Prentiss felt overwhelmed because she was dealing with problems with her mother and with the bureaucracy policy that Strauss pressed against her.

Then Spencer looked at the file stack itself. There was a lot of paperwork, but the amount of reports he would finish in two minutes was three times what his friends would finish in an hour. He leaned forward, looking over the table to see Emily and focusing Derek better in his field of vision.

“Do you guys want to give some reports? I finish faster anyway”

They agreed without hesitating or pretending modesty. Reid laughed, saying that his friends would owe him one, and went back to work.

After that, when Spencer finished the reports and lifted his head from the paperwork, the light in the world had dimmed to a dark blue hue, streaked by small, bright stars.

The breeze coming in through the large glass windows was fresh and invigorating, the scent of the night's wonderful promises was reminiscent of your perfume. And then he realized that neither you nor Gideon showed up all day. Something about him withered, the euphoria diminished until it became as small as the stars outside. The clock struck seven at night when Spencer got up and put his things away, millions of feelings buzzing in chest.

The unsettling sense of concern began to take place than had previously to been emotions of anxiety and excitement, and he pondered whether to ask Hotch about Gideon or to call himself. Reid looked around, looking under his colleagues, who were packing up to go home, and going up to Aaron's office. He could still see his figure under the marble table, the light from the room underscoring the serious and concentrated expression he directed to the documents. The air in that room looked different, maybe more dense, maybe more serious. But Spencer knew it was best to let Hotch do his own thing.

He ran the tip of his tongue over the corner of lips, reaching into his pocket and reaching for his cell phone.

“Hey, Reid." he turned toward Morgan, that signaled them to go to the elevator.

“Did you speak to Gideon today? Or did you hear Hotch say something about it?” The question came after he reached Derek, both of them walking out the glass door.

"Is it Gideon you're worried about or... his daughter?” He laughs shamelessly, pressing the elevator button.

Spencer stumbles over the words when says: “Wh-What? No. I'm just worried about him. It has nothing to do with… ”

As soon as the sentence was about to end, the elevator doors open. Instead of the usual void or presence of someone from the FBI, Spencer felt catatonic when he saw the female figure inside.

You.

In a burst, like a strong wind that blows and pushes things away, Spencer was struck by all the feelings and sensations that had been bubbling in his stomach all day. Euphoria, anxiety, insecurity and... animation. Suddenly, he was worried again about how he would look, what he would say, if he was presentable enough for you to look at him with... Well, Spencer didn't know how he wanted you to look at him, but he wished it were something that guarantee your affection.

He wanted to be something that excited you, that made your heart race. Just like his was now.

"Y/n...” He did not recognize his own voice. The intonation.

"Hey." You smiled genuinely, and it was able to make Reid's heart beat so fast that he feared you could hear. “I'm sorry I didn't show up and neither did my dad.”

“No problem at all.” He was sincere “Did something happen? Are you two okay? ”

The concern in Reid's voice was so palpable that you losing your breath. God, that man couldn't be real.

“I just remembered that Garcia is call me." Morgan tried to swallow a big smile “It was good to see you, Y/n.”

“Me too, Morgan.” You gave him a hand gesture that, for Reid, was lovely.

Spencer put his arm in the elevator door, preventing it from closing.

“Will you want to leave?” Always as solicitous as a gentleman.

“Oh no.” Now it was your cheeks that were softly red. “I came to see you actually.”

If nothing that had happened before was not enough to steal Spencer's breath, your sentence completed the mission. He put himself in an elevator, pressing a button and letting the doors close.

"I was going to bring my dad today, but ... well” You laughed “To put it succinctly, my dad has a list of things he wants to do before he dies, and one of them was rollerblading”

You and Spencer laughed. Half because he would have laughed at anything you said to see your smile, and half because he couldn't see Gideon having such a list. But he liked it. The feeling of knowing that Jason was having fun, enjoying life, not letting that job rip off all of his humanity, was comforting, joyful.

“Why do I feel this is not going to end well?" He joked too and you laughed.

“Because it doesn't end.” Your fingers ran through your hair “We ended up going to a place that had this, before he have work today, and he ended up twisting his ankle when he fell.”

You tried to no laught, because it was not something to play with, but after the fright passed and your father and you were entangled, they both burst out laughing. And now, reliving that, you didn't remember the hurt itself, but how great the fun between the two of you had been.

“He is fine?" But Spencer had a worried flash in his eyes.

“Oh, yes, the doctor said there was nothing much. He just needs to get some rest.” You smiled “I was going to call, but one thing led to another and when I saw it, it was too late to call. So I thought about coming in person.”

Spencer was known to have a photographic memory and a very high IQ, but at that moment, if then asked what you had just said, he would need a moment to remember. For the only thing he was concentrating on at that moment was the certainty that your smile could light up the whole of Washington. How your eyes held the stars' syntax and how the energy that emanated from you was... cheerful.

He realized that you were a cheerful person, outgoing and with an innate ease of making friends. You had that special touch that made people and the universe orbit around you. And Spencer knew it was one of the planets captured by your gravity.

"It is very sweet of you to come here to tell me that.” He smiled, but then realized what he had just said “N-not that you owe me any explanation! I just-I think it's cool that you worried and…n-not that I waited for you but… not th-that I didn't expect you too and...” Spencer stopped talking, giving up trying to find the right words to get him out of the mess he got himself into.

At times like this, Reid was used to people just dropping an embarrassed nod and leaving, or ignoring the avalanche of things he said. But as soon as the tone of your laughter echoed through the elevator and snaked through him body like a wave of energy, Reid looked at you more closely. You didn't give that embarrassed look, nor did you look sorry for him. You laughed lovingly and touched his arm.

"I was also looking forward to seeing you.” You summed up all of him thoughts in one sentence and freed him from all fears.

"Serious?" But disbelief was still present.

The elevator door opened and the two of you got out, walking to the exit of the building and being greeted by the cool, comforting breeze of the night.

“Yea.” You said as if it were obvious, “What do you think about going to a movie? It's not too late. ”

If Spencer had been told a few weeks ago that in a few days he would be on a date with the most beautiful girl he had ever seen, he would have scoffed. He would have thought it was a joke with a background of evil. Going out with girls was not on the list of things Spencer did regularly, but he was thanking any confusion or mistake the Universe had made to accidentally placed you with him.

To be honest, with you on his side, with you with him, Spencer felt like he had won in life. That all those years of school and university, when he only saw beautiful girls from afar and dreamed of what it would be like to have one this girls interest in him, had dissipated into the air. Dissolved in the breeze like smoke. During all the hours of film, the joyful and ecstatic conversations you both had after, Spencer could feel the connection in the air. Naturally, kind of magical.

Did he know you two days or two decades ago?

You told all of your adventures, all of stories, and listened carefully to every ramble and phrase Reid had to say. He felt, for the first time, completely important. As if everything he had to say was valuable as a diamond, rare as a tropical treasure.

He felt comfortable, relaxed, cheerful.

And when, at the end of the night while the two of you were walking along the lively and vibrant streets of DC, you took his hand and intertwined yours fingers, Spencer never felt so alive.

He had been born twenty-four years, but only now did he really feel what it was like to be alive.

tagged: @gublersuvula @peculiarinsomniac

[boop-le-snoot]

PARTY FAVOURS I CHAPTER 29

First time reader click here

Feels like this story is flopping. Is it flopping? Idk. This chapter is 100% plot and it is spooky. Cursed demon box. Helpful Stephen Strange and grumpy Wong. Hovering Bruce and Tony. Loki being a honorary Gen-Z. Found family but make it ✨superheroes✨.

"That's a lot to unpack," Peter stated once I had given him the bare bones report of the situation at hand. "Uh, are you okay?" The boy was obviously upset at my predicament, placing a supportive hand on my shoulder.

"Kinda?" I offered, making space for Wanda and Pietro who decided to join me and Peter, away from the arguing adults. The mission discussion - an absolute disaster - started as soon as Peter had walked in. Evidently experienced in such matters, the boy ignored the bickering and came over to steal me from Bruce's clutches to peacefully finish his egg sandwich in the company of his peers.

"I wanted to ask if I could see your memory of that time," Wanda meekly offered me a piece of candy. I accepted it - sugar sweet sugar, how I love thee so! The witch continued with a smile: "I think it would be helpful to see what we're dealing with, magic-wise."

"Sure," I trusted her. "Just don't scramble what's left of my sanity, please," All of us laughed at my remark as I laid down on the cold floor with my head in Wanda's lap. Her powers felt like small brain zaps, tingles that began at the front of my forehead and ran down into my spine. I followed her instructions and thought about the times I remembered, finding the box, placing it into my closet, the nightmares. I had a mild headache by the time she was done; no grudges against her - Wanda tactfully avoided my private moments and looked only at the ones containing the artifact.

"You've gotten really good," I complimented her with pure adoration.

"Thank you," She blushed, smoothing back my stray hairs. "That stuff is really strong. I don't think you should go near the box," She admitted. "And Doc should take a look at you. You have a residue left. I don't think that's good either."

"Well, fuck," I said in muted resignation.

"Press F to pay respects," Pietro joked in an attempt to lighten the atmosphere.

"Your luck is almost as bad as mine," Peter pointed out.

I scoffed. "Well, if I see any spiders around, I'll be sure to stay away in case they happen to be radioactive OsCorp runaways."

All of us laughed. Despite the grim situation, I didn't feel doomed. I was surrounded by friends and my boyfriends and my bestie who happened to be a mythical omnipotent god- welp, once again, I was getting too emotional. Once the adults were done arguing, we could start making sense of this mess and hopefully clean it up before the monster is out of the box.

"Mortals," I heard Loki scoff. The next moment, the Asgardian sat down noisily next to me, pout on full display. "This house is a nightmare."

His expression - or the accidental use of a meme - sent me completely, tension leaving my body via copious amounts of nearly hysterical laughter. Through tears and hiccups, I saw Wanda cackle with me and Peter show the meme in question to Loki, noting that he had been once sent to time-out on top of the fridge by Tony himself. Soon, all of us were laughing, much to the displeasure of the adults.

"Children, what is the issue?" Thor asked, irritated.

"We're just waiting for you to be done with arguing," I spoke before Loki could start bitching about Thor calling him a child. "Then I can show Steve and Loki where exactly have I buried the box so Stephen can take me to the healers and get this thing out of me or whatever," I pointed out the most logical plan of action.

Two long strides and the sorcerer was standing over me, boom-boom-whooshing and generally making very pretty golden patterns to appear and land on top of me. Tony and Bruce anxiously hovered behind him, both of my boys concerned and ready to mother-hen me. Ugh, so disgustingly adorable. Wanda's hand encompassed mine - she was nervous.

Stephen took a solid five-minute silence break before coming to a final conclusion. "Wong can get rid of the residual traces of the artifact's influence," The sorcerer announced curtly. "It's good you got rid of the artifact, a few more months and you would have started slipping into insanity if the magic within it was not released," He explained, slowly reaching out a hand to place it on top of my head. I wasn't sure if it was a gesture meant to bring comfort or another diagnostic test but leaned into the touch nonetheless. "Tell me, did you have any behavioral... Disturbances after...?" He trailed off.

I chewed on my lip, evaluating. "I honestly don't know. I've always been kind of an asshole," Honesty was the best policy. "Nothing seems out of order, sleepwalking aside."

"I see," Strange gave me a tight-lipped smile. "Perhaps, it was your stubborn nature that forbade the artifact from corrupting your mind completely. As evidenced by Captain Rogers, even undesirable character traits bring good into this world now and then."

That seemed a little bit hostile. I frowned, giving a questioning look to a frowning Loki.

"Speaking from experience?" Not the one to hold back upon witnessing first-grade bullshit, I withdrew from Stephen's touch, raising a sarcastic eyebrow.

Surprising everyone, the man laughed soundly, eyes crinkling at the corners. "I most certainly do," Shooting me a positively mischievous wink. I felt like I was missing something.

The room's inhabitants slowly ticked out in pairs and threes, eager to complete their assigned tasks. Loki had insisted on coming along to the sanctum with me, even almost getting up in Stephen's face, but Bruce - out of all people - managed to calm the Asgardian down, and together we convinced him his magic would be considerably more useful during the retrieval of the cursed box. Loki was worried - everyone with a pair of functional eyes could see that the spiky attitude was his way of showing he cared about me, which made my insides briefly turn to mush. I didn't expect him to take the title of my best friend so seriously and I definitely was not complaining.

Tony was the last to leave, jittery and shaky, clutching me like it was his last time seeing me, kissing me hungrily in front of everyone. The joke or two he made were weak ghosts of his usual sharp snark.

"I love you and I'll be back soon," I whispered into his ear, feeling him freeze and his fingertips dig almost painfully into my sides. Louder, I repeated: "Not planning on dying any time soon, y'all gotta chill. Let's go, doc?" I addressed the tall sorcerer who was tactfully pretending to be busy with his smartphone.

Wanda pressed a duffle bag into my hands mouthing "clean clothes" a split second before Stephen opened a portal and with a great deal of curiosity, I stepped through it, eyes immediately drawn to the dimly lit space filled with books and antiques. So many books, so many unusual trinkets. The chandelier that hung over our heads rivaled the ones I'd seen in million-dollar-homes of dad's friends.

"Follow me," Stephen extended an arm in the direction of a smaller door, "Please do not touch anything."

I walked a pace behind him, satisfying my curiosity by looking around like a child in a candy store. The air smelled different in the Sanctum, almost as familiar as Loki's magic but less frosty... Warmer. A dash of red fabric swished from somewhere towards me; I giggled. The Cloak of Levitation liked me - not nearly as much as it liked Peter though - so I brushed my fingertips along the fabric, greeting it quietly. Talking loudly in this building was out of the question. I felt like any moment, a disgruntled librarian would appear to chastise me for making noise.

"Strange," A short Asian man appeared, book in hand and looking none too happy. Guess that's the librarian... "I got your text. The room next to yours is prepared for the ritual," The man I assumed to be Wong gave me a curt nod in the way of greeting, doing a quick 180° and walking us back to a small but tastefully decorated room with a single cot in the middle. It was pleasantly warm, a small fire lit in the fireplace, willowy smoke of incense rising from a few strategically placed sticks.

"The bathroom is that way. I'm afraid you'll have to be fully nude for the procedure," Strange declared apologetically, pointing to a door hidden behind the divide.

I snorted, but of course, the weird voodoo shit would require me to be naked. Not that I was embarrassed or anything but still. Tony would have a field day. Locating a chair, I dumped my duffle bag on it, flying out of my hoodie and sweatpants in record time. My underwear and socks followed, feet unpleasantly chilly despite the carpeted floor. I ran a hand over the faint bruises on my hips, evidence of last night, fondly - either Tony or Stephen had left marks on my body and that was... It was great. I loved it, drugs or not.

I heard someone clear their throat and turned around, nearly cracking up at the way both men suddenly averted their gazes, blush riding high on their cheeks. I snorted: "I'm hot, what else is new?"

Wong shook his head, busying himself with some sort of a book; Stephen lingered, eyes fixated on the very same bruises. His tongue darted out, wetting the plush of his bottom lip, and damn, this wasn't the time to get horny. I shook my head and with that, the sorcerer caught himself too, mutely motioning me to lay down on the cot.

"Whenever you're done eye-fucking each other," Wong piped up sarcastically - wow, I liked this man already. Stephen grumbled something quiet and rude, provoking another snort from me.

I followed their instructions - shortly after the Asian man began reading - or rather singing - something in a language I didn't know, I felt myself fall into a deep sleep. Or, I thought I was falling asleep. At one point, my eyes opened to an empty room, a thin sheet covering my bare body, and a silence that made chills run down my spine.

"Stephen?" I called out. I sounded like I was underwater to my own ears. "Wong?"

I was met with silence so deafening, I had no choice but to sit up and look around. The fire was burning strong in the fireplace, several logs blackened from it as sparks flew. It took a second for me to realize it made no sound - there was no crackling. Something was very wrong, the dread was creeping up on me.

Very familiar dread.

With the sheet firmly wrapped around me, I hopped off the cot, suddenly noticing the drawings on my arms, my legs. I was covered in runes similar to the ones I had seen on the cursed box - and my memories weren't missing. As clear as day, I recalled messing around with the box, debating on opening it, taking it out of my room only to find it back on my desk in the morning, some serious Anabelle shit.

I jumped as the floorboards cracked somewhere in the house. Every logical thought I had, backed up by every horror movie I had ever watched, screamed at me to NOT go towards the creepy noise; like moth to a flame, I was drawn in and couldn't resist the unnatural urge to investigate it. On silent feet, I padded out of the room, desperately trying not to think about the lonely, dark hallways filled with strange ancient objects. My steps made no noise.

On the couch, in the main room we'd arrived, sitting lazily, was Tony. I'd recognize his hair anywhere - and the Led Zep tee, old, frayed edges and loose threads. "Tony?" I asked hopefully, trying to make sense of this...

He turned around.

It wasn't Tony. Whatever it was, it wore Tony's face, it held his brown eyes and crow's feet around them - it wasn't him. Wrong, like the lack of sound in this place, misplaced and unnatural. The doe browns didn't sparkle, lifeless, dull color of dried mud. As much as I wanted to go and bury my face in his chest, my limbs filled with lead, my whole body screaming "DANGER".

The impostor kept quiet which only solidified my suspicions. Real Tony would be running his mouth already, poking fun at my impression of a sheet ghost.

"Princess?" The... Thing asked in Tony's voice, but it fell flat and monotone.

"Whatever you are, you sure as Hell ain't Tony," I stated firmly, hoping for some answers. "What the fuck?"

Not-Tony's face changed, familiar features twisting into something sinister, the malice making me sick to my stomach. The creature stood up, causing my feet to take an involuntary step back as he advanced slowly.

"You have no choice but to submit," The Thing replied calmly. "You're not getting out of here. Not even your little Asgardian pet god can save you," Its tone was absolutely flat. I would have thought the thing was a robot if not for the obvious involvement of magic in this situation. Its words filled me with dread as thick as molten lava; unfortunately for the creature, unlocking my memories gave me enough rational balance to be acutely aware of it and therefore, able to fight it.

I could fight it. I didn't know how exactly, but I could resist it. "That's a really bold thing to say for something that... What even are you? Magical STD?" As my brain desperately focused on finding a solution to a problem I didn't know all the details of, my mouth had a mind of its own.

The creature growled, a far more primal noise than a human could make. "You don't know what you're up against, child. I am one for we are many," Suddenly, the room was filled with shadows as if someone had turned off all the lights and cranked up the moon to be the brightest it ever was. The shadows moved, oozed, motion sinister without any light to back it up.

I had no choice but to pucker up. Nobody was coming to rescue me; in fact, I always have taken pride in being a self-saving princess. Damsel in distress wasn't really my style. The hunch in my shoulders disappeared, giving way to a stubborn and stiff expectation of the upcoming altercation, hands bailed in fists.

"I mean, like Legion the demon from the Bible?" I recalled what little I knew from Wikipedia. "I mean, I'm agnostic myself, but if you feel like identifying with that, you should probably see a therapist."

The entity growled, shadows gathering around it like fabric on a string, and lunged. Paralyzed by sudden blinding, deafening fear, I turned tail and ran.

THE TAG LIST IS NOW OPEN! @another-stark-sub ​ @mostly-marvel-musings  @vozit ​ @littlegasps ​ @pilloclock ​ @shereadsinquiet @downeyreads ​ @hermione-grangers-wife ​ @individualistfem ​ @sleep-i-ness @capbrie @lillsxd @agustdowney @dee-vn @justanotherblonde23 @fanngirl19 @persephonehemingway @softie-socks @schemefrenzy @letsby @cutenessloading @romeo-the-cactus @jelly-fishy-babie @mikariell95

[jjkpls]

crayons ‘set’ (PG)

> genre : fluffy fluff, light angst, comedy

> pairing : kim namjoon x reader

> words : 3.8k

> warnings : none (except a rusty quill)

>Y/N, a primary school teacher, is way too soft for the quiet, timid new child in her class. Little did she know, the adult version, who engendered this cutie, is even more charming.

> prior

> next

The principle of balance. 

It’s a curious concept. Like most of the things that turn people into different versions of themselves, just from an unconscious force brought to light by the sheer inner sense of competition that inhabits every single person. It’s quieter in some people. Feel non-existent sometimes. But it’s here, dormant, just waiting on the right trigger to awaken. 

You didn't think you would see it in Jimmy. The little boy lacks completely self-confidence and affirmation. But a voice and a stance, easily remarkable, end up fitting him.

It turns out that you witness it quite quickly after the Progress has started. And it manifests in the most adorable and comical of ways. 

It’s been a few weeks since you've met his dad. There wasn’t much to talk about with him yet. Every day, longer lingerings of the gaze, less tucking away in the far back of the rest of the group, more definite wordless participations during class -nodding and clapping along. The progress you've been wholly satisfied with but nothing so drastically different that you thought necessary to call his father in for. 

Nothing absolutely astonishing. Therefore you didn’t call and what a surprise this one Thursday afternoon turns out to be when he appears at your class’s doorway.

He’s wearing very casual clothes, a simple light linen shirt and some distended jeans to pair, sneakers and his hair -you've only seen neatly tucked to the side- is floating about his forehead, freshly washed and devoid of any wax. It’s a pleasant surprise, especially with the evident appearance of calm and quiet tranquillity he’s carrying. 

This man looks rather handsome when he’s on vacation, stressless and well-rested and seemingly content, you note.

“Mr Kim?”

He looks up from his son he is holding the hand of, eyes wide and bewildered as he stares a little. You chuckle, confused but amused. He’s the one paying you a surprise visit but he’s shocked when you do talk to him?

“Is it bad timing? I can come back another day...” From the look he’s giving you, or more accurately, barely sparing you, body already aiming for the corridor, you wonder if you should return the question. It'd be cruel though, to tease, therefore you choose to simply shake your head and insist on him walking in. And then it happens, the man can’t take a step inside, for some reason. He’s just paralysed, looking like a million contradicting thoughts are fighting inside his brain and he simply cannot make out the best option, if he would or not step in; and it’s Jimmy who takes the decision for him. Puffing his cheeks out in annoyance, he pushes against his father's leg, small hands pulling the bigger one towards him. It’s like watching a tiny mouse trying to drag along a giraffe. It has little to no physical effect until there’s an aggravated tiny whine of “appa”. He moves, at last, letting himself stood in front of me before Jimmy lets go of his hand. 

He gives you a look you're not sure you interpret well. Dark eyes all serious, attention loud, he seems to be intrusting his father to you. A gentle smile, hiding your teeth biting back a hilarious grin, sends him away towards the very back of the room. Taking a seat next to the bookshelf, it takes Jimmy a few minutes only after you've diverted your attention from him to grab an image book and start going through it patiently.

He's so comfortable. Almost too comfortable. He looks strange, like that. Strange because different from usual but still, oddly, it fits him well. It's like a projection, a little vision of a future little boy, easygoing, at peace with himself and his environment, that won't take too long to be born again.

And it's now the dad who's acting weird. He's standing on his two never-ending legs, the tip of his fingers toying nervously with the button of his vest, his mouth keeps teasing, opening slightly, as if about to spill a word, only to shut itself right up, a lightly aggravated sigh following soon after. It happens quite a couple of times until you get tired of waiting. Tired of the eyes avoiding you, the tension heavy for no particular reason that you could decipher, you ring him awake with an abrupt overexaggerated clearing of your throat.

"Mr Kim?" He's confounded again, caught off guard somehow. "Did you mean to discuss something with me?" It's hard to make an adult talk, you realise. Sometimes children can be difficult. Put aside Jimmy's case, sometimes children are like that. Making them want to share, especially when they are at that age where they can't express themselves and their ideas as well as they wish they could, frustration, laziness at times can get the better of them and having a fairly constructed conversation with them is like pulling teeth out of a very adamant, unwilling person. But you manage. Adults, on the other hand, have never been too much of your cup of tea. There's a reason why you chose to spend the better part of your weeks with children instead of adults. You're not that terrible at getting along with them, you do it pretty well, honestly. But the reason is probably the fact that you're not difficult. You're convenient as a person, always willing to help, always trying to be positive, you do not get in people's way and most of the times, it's enough to make it through.

You don't deal with adults the way you deal with children. With great pleasure and passion, you insert yourself into your pupils' existence, try to leave a mark and help them have the better, feel the better, be the better. Adults, you don't get too involved. They sound complicated, complexed, too many compromises, too many facets. You know because you are one too.

And Mr Kim, looking all nervous and troubled seem the very embodiment of this bias you have. He looks some sort of troubles. Probably nothing that terrible. He appears too childish for it to be that grave. But he's serious about it, about the anxiety, the struggle, the uneasiness he's feeling, you can tell, just from the way he hasn't been able to look at you in the eyes since he appeared in your class. Still, whatever it is, will cost some of your time, and with that, might clog up some very much needed space you require in this busy head of yours.

It's happened before. A new neighbour trying to get closer to you, maybe because they've just moved in the city, didn't know anyone, and you looked friendly enough and they needed someone to listen to the exhaustive list of all the things that made them leave their hometown -even though, you don't necessarily care for any of it. Or a colleague, trying to get you involved in their office dramas, simply because people need the attention, the feeling of importance and support.

Quite frankly, you've never been interested in any of them. Adults sound like too much work, especially given the fact that, as filled with flaws as they are, they are a pain, and often impossible, to fix. And they say things they don't mean. And they want things that they don't need. Their words and their acts hardly ever match. They're for the most part unrecoverable and unfixable, and you don't want any of it.

But Mr Kim and his dimples -invisible to the eye at the moment, but that you realise marked your brain so strongly you can picture them exactly where they should be winking- are piquing your interest. You're ninety-nine per cent sure it is not about Jimmy but you'd like to know. Never mind that curiosity killed the cat.

“Yes, uh-“ Clearing of the throat, scratching of the neck and more clearing of the throat. “about last time...”

You're lost. For a second, your body freezes to give your brain its full capacity to wreck through the whole place and retrieve a memory that seems to have been lost somehow, somewhere. You have no idea what time he is referring to. 

He seems so invested, so intensely experiencing his emotions you're left shocked and deeply embarrassed to not remember something that had that effect on him yet didn’t leave a single trace on you. 

He insists then, having to face your transparent confusion. The more you stand in pure oblivion, the more awkward he gets. Stuttering more, an accent, very deep, adding rough edges to his voice, colouring his words with new shades that you've never heard before.

“Mr Kim-“

“Namjoon.”

“I’m sorry?” 

“No, it’s me, I am, I’m-“ You will, later, feel terrible for it. It’s undeniable. But right now, facing this grown-ass man, usually so collected now decomposing in the most adorable red-cheeked boyish thing, you can only start laughing. It renders him speechless which in a way is almost an improvement and when you finally can restrain the giggles from bubbling straight from your belly, you start again,

“Maybe take a deep breath, take your time.” You bite your lip down to the blood, poorly concealing your grin when he actually does it. “What did you mean by ‘last time’?” You're mortified to ask, honestly, persuaded that you should know but at this point, it’s pretty mean but you don’t think you can embarrass yourself that much in front of him, not when he’s been such a mess himself. 

“When we met. When I came to talk about my son.” Calmly, diligently he answers. Like a good boy answering his teacher’s question, a shadow of worry covering his usually sharp gaze. 

“Oh, what about it?” Curiosity melts with confusion as you refrain yourself from pressing him further into elaborating faster, eager as you are to understand. You were sure he was not going to talk about him. 

“I’d been a bit much and I wanted to apologise personally to you.”

Been a bit much? 

“In what sense? I’m not sure I understand.”

“It’s just- I poured myself and our luggage on you when you’re- I know you care about my son but I shouldn’t have, I don’t know, I shouldn’t have-“

You hate cutting people off. It’s a terrible habit you are constantly trying to teach your students to drop. But here he is, struggling to express an idea that irks you strongly. Is he able to put the words he needs? Does he even know them in his own mother tongue or do they even exist? Maybe what he's trying to express are pure emotions. Unease coming from a heart shameful for having shown itself vulnerable to a stranger. You'd know about this feeling. You've experienced it plenty of times, throughout all your life. Even if it wasn’t in the form of you stripping your heart off to someone, like he did, simply showing that you cared gave you the same sense of vulnerability, of terrifying exposure you've always had a hard time dealing with. 

You hate the idea that he regrets it, especially with you. At that time, you could tell he had words to pour out. You were glad, you were even enchanted to be the one helping out no matter how small you just assumed your impact to have been. And now, he's trying to say that he regrets it?

“You said you were thankful to have someone to talk to.”

“I did say that.” He mumbles, pressing the pad of his fingers against his closed eyes. 

“Then don’t regret it. I don’t want you to be embarrassed about this, seriously. I had parents do way more, actually embarrassing, things in my career. Don’t even worry about it.” He’s thinking it over. You can tell your words have little to no impact on his bruised ego. “I’m not sure how appropriate it is for me to say that but if you need it, whenever in the future, don’t hesitate. I’m not a psychologist, but I’m just- I’m willing to listen if it can help. I mean me or anyone else, really, you should in general just share. It’s important. You don’t want Jimmy to mimic such bad habits like so, holding in and all.” You may be talking too much. The man just looks so eager to hear those words and it spurs you on. “You really shouldn’t feel embarrassed. I can understand the feeling, where it comes from, but it’s pointless with me.”

“You’re really kind.” You give a smile, only. It’s not much but you're pretty sure it’s the genuineness tinting it that renders it enough. Again, he seems surprised. As bewildered as last time but undoubtedly convinced. “I’m glad he has you as his teacher.”

Your cheeks burn intensely. You don’t know how conscious he is of his words. If he realises that he perfected the art of flattery and of slipping people in his pocket. He really did. Especially when he’s leaning slightly towards you, gaze intense and on you now that the embarrassment has vanished for the most part and he can bear looking at you, seemingly hanging out for any other words you may have in stock.

There’s nothing left for you to say though. It takes you quite a few attempts to skim over your brain, trying to formulate a sentence, any word, but you come out completely empty. You can’t even stutter a thank you from how utterly flustered you're feeling. 

Therefore you choose the easy way out. Waltzing on your heels to give him your back, your hands reaching to the barely messy top of your desk to pretend they’re busy. You believe yourself to have been sleek enough but apparently not so -maybe it’s the fact that you're just picking up stuff to put them exactly where they belong, at the exact same place. 

“Was I inappropriate? I’m really sorry, Mrs ___. Sometimes I just talk too much and I don’t realise that maybe I shouldn’t.”

“Please stop apologising. It’s fine, you’re fine. You’re just- You saying nice things that you mean,” You stumble upon the last words as if maybe you're getting over your own head to just assume and claim so loud that he must mean the sweet things he said to you but that bashful yet adorable expression he's wearing, with the eyes a bit wide and the bottom lip munched, fill you with a regain of confidence, “can’t be an issue. It’s just unexpected and- I mean you’re fine you can say whatever you want. I mean I’m not asking for more compliments, I’m just saying-“

It’s terribly unnerving. You don’t know what impression you're giving off as a teacher. Lacking so much elocution, scrambling to form sentences and turning into a messy, overwhelmed emotional mess. 

“I don’t mind giving you more compliments, Mrs ___.” Here comes that curious principle of balance again. You're half-dying of mortification and he seems to be having fun, smiling kindly, with a hint of something else -amusement, maybe even smudginess. 

Is he flirting with me? There’s no way he’s flirting. I think I’m losing my mind. 

“It’s Miss, actually.” You swear to yourself, silently, that you're not flirting back -assuming he is, in fact, doing just that- and you just mean to be called by an accurate name. 

“Oh.” He almost gasps. Looking shocked and you don’t understand what’s going on anymore. Was he really not flirting? Why does he look so shaken as if you misinterpreted his intentions and now he’s misinterpreting yours and think you're getting over your head -because you're not, you were not flirting!

“I’m not flirting with you, I’m just clarifying!” 

You hate this whole conversation. You hate yourself, your life and anything and everything that may or may not have led you to this tragic instant.

You're positive you screamed a little. You get confirmation of just that from the tiny mop of hair bouncing up in your peripheral vision, as Jimmy gives you two a slightly concerned, curious look. 

The tension is blatant. It's a mixture of irritation, of anxiety, of embarrassment. You couldn't have messed up any worse than you did and you positively want to simply die, right about now.

The mere thought that you'll have to live with this humiliation not only for the whole day ahead, blatantly hanging out at the back of your head, sometimes probably too close to your consciousness for any sense of comfort to ever inhabit you again, but for your entire life makes you want to throw yourself out the window. You decide not to indulge in the pressing pulsion only because you're on the ground floor, therefore, it would be pointless if not even more humiliating.

Mr Kim, somehow, helps a little. By not wearing a mask of pure revolt, revulsion or aggravation. He stares soundly, expression not giving off much to work with. Just enough to understand he is not mad, simply lost in his own thoughts he doesn't seem too keen on sharing.

A spark of sensibility blooms suddenly in your brain. You're so thankful for it, you jump right on it, grab it with your two hands and start again, as if nothing happened, as if you haven't just humiliated yourself in front of this man (and his son), "Jimmy has made a lot of progress, I've noted."

Mr Kim blinks a few times, unnaturally so. "Yeah? I mean, yes, I've noticed too, actually." He keeps staring with the same obnoxiously loud thoughts running in his mind. His brain is on full activity mode. It's obvious. And he doesn't care too much about talking about his son right this second (even though he doesn't seem to care much about sharing what's going through that private head of his either).

How disappointing. You sincerely thought the one subject that matters the most to him would successfully tear the attention away from you but you're a fool. Apparently, even the cute little bean of a son he has can't divert the attention from the humiliation you've just submitted yourself to.

"Anyway, I won't hold any more of your time, you must have work to attend to."

"Actually I'm not working today. I have the day off." Your lip now too sensitive, you attack the inner part of your cheek with your teeth -thankfully you've turned your back to him again, feigning observing with great attention something through the windows- to stop yourself from screeching. It takes him so long, so fucking long for him to decide, finally, that maybe he should leave. The longest dozens of seconds of your life. Staring outside, picturing him behind you, probably watching you wondering to himself how you can be so lame and how he could have thought you a good fit to be his precious son's teacher. "Ah, I should leave anyway. Your class is about to start?"

"Ah, yes. Well, thanks for passing by. I hope you rest well." It's the least genuine you've been with this man, and anyone for the matter, in so long. Your heart and mind are in such a shamble you don't actually remember the reason for his coming and if, really, anything positive came out of this conversation.

It's ridiculous how you feel, all bothered and nervous, aggravated with him for making you feel so flustered. You give him the most convincing fake smile you own, not taking the time to check if he buys it as you don't dare lingering your attention on him for any longer than the blink of the eye takes.

When he leaves, only after having scattered a bunch of smooches on Jimmy's face, you find yourself breathing again. It's like you've been holding in for so long, you're getting dizzy at the taste of oxygen again, heart beating furiously in your chest, sweating all over.

Fuck, that was painful.

You're such an idiot sometimes. Why do you have to be such a fucking idiot? It's not like you're asking much in this life, honestly. You're not aiming at any groundbreaking, universe shaking novelties. You're staying in your line, trying to be good and do good in your own little world. Not asking much, not taking without beforehand being offered. Is it really that much to ask to not be absolutely humiliated in front of one of your kids' parent, who happens to be a stupidly handsome man? (Yes, he is. You can admit that -to yourself. It's probably the reason why your brain stopped working properly, by the way.) You're cursed. I'm cursed, I'm cursed, I'm cur-

"Mish?" The quietest little call comes from the quietest little boy. Standing a secure meter away from you, his peculiar big black eyes staring with a silent demand in them, Jimmy waits patiently for your attention to be given to him. You offer it to him with great enthusiasm. Because between self-pitying your dumb ass and celebrating the first-ever-self-willingly-uttered word to you by this boy, the choice is not even to be pondered over.

"Yes, Jimmy?" He's holding in one hand your crayons he slowly tends your way, careful not to spill them all from his tiny fist. In the other one, there's a paper he's drawn on. Your eyes instinctively are driven to it, curious to see what he decided to draw when he felt comfortable enough to do it. He catches the line of your attention, evidently, and it takes him a second but then, finally, he decides you're allowed to see it. It's a too accurate copy of the ugly cat you made for him the other day. The colours are different, the traits a bit shakier yet, completely unbiasedly, you have to admit that he somehow made it look better. "That's a very pretty cat, Jimmy."

He looks at it, ruminates your words, trying to make sense of them, verify their accuracy. Suddenly he seems to decide that you're right and giving you another candid look, he returns to his table where he proceeds to carefully slip the drawing in his bag.

You realise your eyes are filled up with prickling tears while you sniff. You're not sure how much is due to this, how much the terrible, terrible encounter with his dad worked your emotions so intensely you're so sensitive now. In any case, it turns out for the better. It's this cute little cat that ends up making you and your day ahead feel better. You're so thankful for it.

Again, you know you're too involved but how are you supposed to do any different with them? Maybe it wasn't a punishment earlier. Maybe it was the storm before the ray of sunshine. It's probably the case. You're less aggravated, suddenly. Less vexed and probably more lenient on talking to this man again given, not the ray of sunshine, but actually rainbow that he may have helped cause to colour your day.

A/N: thanks for reading 💜

[whitehairedclea]

Red Roulette part VIII

Helena sat in her office remembering Chang's words from last night. “As if I didn't know about my intuition, if it wasn't for my intuition I wouldn't open casinos in the States or raise such amount of money, you idiot” she thought. Then, for a split second, she remembered his hands holding her hand and her waist. Gently, yet firm enough to keep her from talking any more. She lit a cigarette and tossed the lighter at the corner of the desk. She quickly dispelled her memories, returning to the issue of the diamond. From the words of Chang showed that the guy did it on behalf of someone, and so probably the diamond has already been transferred to the client.

"Sebastian!"

A seconds later he appeared in the office waiting for an order.

"Bring the Spider over here immediately, maybe he will know something today that will be helpful"

"Of course, I'll get him right away," he replied and left the office quickly.

If someone did order the theft of the diamond, there must have been some trace of it on the streets. So many informants were fooling around deceiving every single profitable handful of information that such a fact of handing over the diamond could not have escaped them.

“ Mrs. Roulette! How nice ... "Spider began as soon as he entered, but Helena quickly cut off his greeting. 

“Okay, finish this cirrus. Fast. Have you heard of any strange meeting last night? "

"Virtually every one in this city, as if you could be more precise"

“It's mainly about the diamond, so focus. Whatever you heard, whatever you know "

“Let's start 600,000,” he smiled.

She had no desire or time to bargain with him, so she just nodded, trying to trust her intuition that he was the only person who could move her search forward.

"I heard one guy brag about a huge amount of money earned for one thing, just one Job. Maybe not a diamond specifically, but quite a similarity"

"Well, who was it then?"

"One of the people coming to the Yellow Flag, long brown hair, possibly American, weird that’s why I remember and that's all I know."

This was more than she could figure out so far, so she thought she had found the lead. All she had to do was find this man and find out who told him to do the job. Time was running out and there was also a risk that someone would want to sell this diamond abroad. Probably worth more than all of Roanapur .

***

  Sebastian headed for the Yellow Flag, a dingy bar on the main street. Inside, it was swarming with suspicious curiosities - dealers, bounty hunters, dirty workmen, prostitutes who could be hired upstairs. In all this hive, he was looking for an American with long hair. 

"Hi Bao " greeted the owner "how's the deal?"

"So far so good, it's only been a week since the last damage, how r you ?"

"It's pretty good to say the casino is spinning somehow, little problems"

"Problems? What, boss has her period? " laughed, but after Sebastian's expression he retired to safer topics "so what problems?"

"I'm looking for a new stranger, he must have arrived here about two days ago, a long-haired brunette, an American, have you heard something about it?"

Bao rapped on the counter to indicate that nothing is for free. Sebastian took a bundle of money out of his pocket and asked for a mug of beer for that.

"My dear, if any connoisseur from Uncle Sam is going to roll through this town, he is sure to look into a lovely restored place like the Yellow Flag!" Bao moved closer to him so that no one would hear what he was saying "... how to tell you, the girls upstairs are definitely perfect"

Sebastian didn’t need more. He jumped up, throwing an additional tip to the bartender, and ran upstairs. Already on the stairs there were crowds of women who were Whiting for the client. Mixed voices of men and women came from everywhere. Every room felt occupied. Sebastian had to choose one to find the American.

One room caught his attention as there was no sound. He decided to try and blew the door open. Inside, a white man sat on the couch, counting quite a large mountain of money. It was obvious this guy was the one he was looking for.

In an instant, he took out the gun before he could react and pointed it at him.

"Dude what are you ?!"

"I would advise you to start talking before your brain will be on that wall over there!" he shouted.

The gun was now right at his temple.

"Who did you sell the diamond to?" Sebastian asked the distressed American.

"It's nothing personal man"

'I don't care, you stole my boss's diamond, who's not a very patient woman. If you want to get out of this, I advise you to talk, we will probably manage without you, but it will be faster,' he replied, unlocking the gun.

The American, feeling the barrel of the gun against his temple, understood how much he did not care about keeping the client's secret. He had money, keeping his life was a priority. Later he talked more than had to.

He was commissioned by an Italian named Dotti right after his arrival in Roanapur. He escaped from the Italian mafia and hid somewhere in the city, gathering his strength to take over the position of the then mafia boss. He couldn't announce his great comeback yet, so he decided to start marking his grounds with minor intimidations. Defecting Helena was to scare her and take over the casino as a new home. The plan might have worked if it had happened to someone else. Helena wasn't going to let go of such an insult, she would have pulled information about him from the city's canals to get him.

"THIS IS ALL I KNOW!" he shouted "really even the pasta makers don't know where he is. NOBODY knows, I got the money a moment ago together with the key to this room!"

There was nothing else to ask. He sheathed the gun and grabbed the bag of money, then threw them all out of the open window. Hundreds of dollars scattered across the crowded street. Seconds later, there were shouts of surprise and fights for every dollar.

"FUCKING MOTHERFUCKER WTF ?!"

'Enjoy you're alive. I'd rather blow your head off now" Sebastian replied and left.

He returned to the casino as soon as possible. It was the most important piece of information, the main puzzle to solve the whole case. They might have started working before it was too fast to spread around town that the Roulette casino could be brazenly robbed.

Sebastian shared with Helena all the clues he had obtained. Without a moment's thought, she rushed to the phone and started calling known informants if anyone had heard of Datti's location . Unfortunately, silence, no one knew him and no one heard of him since he hid from the Italian mafia.

"The little fish don't know anything or don't want to sprinkle ..." she said, looking out the window. Sebastian had the impression that she was running out of ideas on what to do next.

'Maybe actually wait for an intimidation attempt? There is a chance he'll reveal himself. ”Helena didn't let him finish, she held up a hand to silence him.

'I won't wait, Sebastian. It's a perfect night to spill some blood, "she said with a slight smile on her face, then added," If the little fish don't know anything, let's see what the shark says. "

'It means ?'

'We're going to talk to All-Knowing-Mr-Chang , I think it might be a good move.' her green eyes flashed.

Sebastian felt as if she was getting excited about this whole situation.

***

The private line telephone began to ring. Chang picked up "Cho , if they're Cubans again with cocaine in their veins, fire them, I won't play business with junkies," he dropped after a hard day. From this morning, one of the cartel people wants to sell him the idea of cracking down on cocaine in Japan. Like a drugged man, full of vision, he only wasted his time.

'Of course boss, it's just ... they're not Cubans. Red Roulette and Sebastian are here asking for a meeting'

Somewhere in the background you could hear Helena's voice, who didn't like the phrase 'ask'. She clearly tried to correct that she required this meeting.

'Let them in'

Chang began to believe that this evening was not going to be written off after all. "But there are still people in this town who can keep me entertained," he thought. A moment later he heard the clap of heels and a knock on his office door.

'Come in'

Cho entered first and signaled that they could enter. Helena straightened her red hair quickly and walked in with a serious look.

"Why do I owe such a great visit," he asked, comfortably leaning against the desk.

'I'll be short because I don't have time. I know who ordered the theft and it was Dotti , a former member of the Italian Mafia, but I have no idea where he is ' she came close enough to rest her hands on his desk. The red nails tapped gently impatiently. Her green eyes, full of fury, waited for his reply. It was only then that he noticed that there was a tiny mole on her face next to her left eye. Right at the tip , as if it was waiting to be spotted under the cover of red waves of hair. The long black dress sparkled softly in the light, and Chang wished she would take a few steps back to see her leg emerging from the slit. The louder tapping of her nails brought him back to reality. He wanted to laugh at wandering his mind, but quickly gathered his thoughts.

"Of course, I know where he is. Boss of the italian mafia still makes me laugh that he can’t find this Dotti guy. I'll help you with him, " he replied, standing to put on his jacket.

'You misunderstood me, Mr. Chang. I don't want you to help me deal with him. Just give me his location, I'll do the rest myself. '

It made the corner of his mouth turn into a devilish smile. The predator's gaze shone from behind his black glasses . 

'Sorry, I misinterpreted your intentions. Then let me accompany you on this journey ”he offered her a hand, lowering his head as if inviting her to dance.

He was eager to see this confrontation unfold. And most of all, what she can do. As a new fish in town, she had to show that she could do more than sell information, otherwise it would be difficult for her. She could slide quickly to the very bottom of that Roanapur abyss .

'In that case, let's dance tonight' she smiled malevolently.

[briars7]

💉Fine Fellow for a Faux Friend #4💉

Hiya! Back again. Figure I should probably add ⚠️trigger warnings⚠️ and whatnot, so here you go. Mentions of death, torture, needles...who knows what all.

Gotta realize, if I’m not gonna take on a lover or one night stand, sure as anything aren’t on the lookout for a friend. Order of importance being what it is. They’re just as likely to be stabby, even if that’s made more difficult by the physical distance. Lack of emotional distance can make you just as blind. So I don’t have “friends”, and never expect to.

Doesn’t mean I won’t have a few favorite people I like to pick on. 😜

So far it’s mainly been this one other assassin, scary lady and by all rights one I should know to leave well enough alone, but never really do. One of these days I’ll break that stoic expression!! Just you wait! She tends to be gone on missions a lot seeing as how she’s one of the best at our jobs, and I was wandering the hallways looking for another muse to meddle with. Ooo! Screams! Thaaaat...is actually something I’ll leave be. Usually. Can’t save ‘em all. This guy’s were tapering off though, and eh. Maybe I’ll take that hallway to my next...undetermined destination.

Heheh! I’m in luck! A vaguely human-ish lump with matted black hair was kicked out of a doorway right in front of me. Tch. That particular door belongs to one of the assassins who likes to “experiment” with interrogative chemicals. Usually with a sadistic bend. Sometimes a subject needs encouragement to get talking, sure. But I don’t like using the drugs. We all have our methods.

Doesn’t mean I won’t carry an antidote around though! Well, it’s a sort of panacea. Basically got a small chance it’ll work the one thing you’ve been dosed with, but it’s better than nothing! I stick it in the general area where I guessed the lump’s shoulder to be...orrrr that’s his backside. Eh, it works. And that’s the end of it. Don’t care what happens to the dude from here. Based on how the assassin treated him, it’s obvious the man isn’t a pet, i.e. personal slave. Neither is he one of the staff, cause I know all of them. Whatever. Grunts like this one don’t last long, but I don’t feel like I’ve wasted perfectly good antidote. I do what I want, and the less of a reason the better. It’ll just be something else that’ll kill the guy later.

“You can thank me later, mate.”

Having done my good deed for the day, I’m off to continue my search for the next pranking victim.

🍊🍊🍊

About say a week later I’m interrupted from a catnap. Might not think it difficult to do, but I’m rarely found resting in my bedroom, you see? Annnd...I tend to fall asleep in the oddest of places. Like the belfry that’s hardly ever heard from. Don’t often have a need for ringing the massive bells here. Smaller ones are used to keep the time and trumpets harold important guests. The ones that don’t prefer to remain anonymous.

You wanna know who had the audacity to wake me up? And the intelligence to locate me...but that’s beside the point. It was Grunt! That’s the nickname I’d given him. And a few others in his position. Well well, whaddya know? He’s still alive!! Heheh! Not only that, but he was also the guy who’d gotten between me and a beating a month back. How in the world...? Usually you might have some small chance of surviving in the Citadel as a pet. Grunts like him barely last a week. I’d give him kudos for making it this long, except I’ve got my dagger keenly poised at his liver and ready to cut his winning streak short.

“Morning, sleepyhead. Brought you breakfast.”

The trickle of blood running down his abdomen didn’t seem to bother him in the slightest. Grunt held out an orange to me, his eyebrow quirking along with one corner of his mouth. Not fair! I’m supposed to be the one smirking and looking all smug, not blinking the sleep out of my eyes and grimacing. Snatching the fruit out of his palm, a glance out the window confirmed that the sun was setting and it was high time I begin my nightly prowl. Huh.

This...giant of a man...had figured out my schedule, and found one of the places I slept on rotation. No one else had managed to do the latter for sure. Had a habit of switching up sleeping patterns too, but that was redundant when my sleep didn’t last long. Oh yeah. To top it all off, he knew what I liked to eat. Like...what the fruit? Nobody bothers to find out that much about someone else unless they’re trying to kill them. Er, at least in my world. He doesn’t stand much chance in doing so, but that leads me to wonder; what’s this guy’s agenda?

I wipe his blood off on my ragged trousers and use the blade to begin peeling the citrus’s skin instead. He wasn’t the only one who’d done his research. Though I hadn’t been able to wring much from the one who’d dragged him to our hellhole. “Whatcha doin’, bringing me fruit...Derrick.”

The man winced, looking into my eyes with his gone wide. I get it. Nobody’s used his name for a while. Probably since before he got here. Grunts don’t get names. They’re called whatever deplorable term comes to mind at the moment, and expected to respond. I could understand that, in a way. My names were always a step above, but...the actual handle never used.

He gestured while his mouth worked on finding speech, “You're the one who told me to thank you. But it’s a question too. You’re also the first person who’s been nice to me.”

Grinning, I talk around the juicy slice I’m masticating, “This is a complicated piece of fruit! Not hearin’ a question, Derrrrick.”

The words seemed to explode out of him in one big rush. “Why would you do that? I won’t be your pet. Not happening. Let’s get that cleared up first.”

“Bwahaha!” Oops, think I spit out a bit of orange there. That’s where his mind went? Guess I can’t blame him, pretty much the only use most of the denizens round here would find in going out of their way to help him. Sure he’d make a good pet. Tall, built like an ox, not too bad looking—got a mouth on him though and that’d make him less desirable. Whatevssss, man. I don’t take pets. Liability. He didn’t need to know that though...right away.

“You’re missing out! I mean, look at the cool places you’d have to sleep in, the diet you’d enjoy. Wouldn’t be required to do anything toooo dirty...maybe wash the blood out of my clothes from time to time. Beats bein’ everyone’s whipping boy.”

The shifting expressions of growing determination and frustration crossing his face were too much and I ended up cackling before he could come up with a rebuttal. “I’m joshing you! Don’t have to look so uptight about it! Oh man. The look on your face though!! Priceless.” I’m gasping for a breath, maybe a bit more dramatically than necessary, but eventually his exasperated glare eases up a tad and I continue.

“Listen, Derrick. I just wanted to. Only reason I do anything...not required by a mission.” I lean back on my perch. One good shove and I’d be flying out the window though, so as relaxed as I looked, I didn’t take my eyes off of the guy. His jaw was working almost as hard as his brain had to have been, and I wonder again what his story was. How come he hadn’t bent to the rules governing this place that required subservience or been broken in their demand of the same.

You know what? I’m curious. Sort of morbid, but I’d like to see how long his mind will hold out if his body’s given a chance.

Stretching long in the sill, my hand extends to shake his. “Name’s Rapscallion, but you can call me Rap. Ever you need something, holler. Maybe not too loudly, don’t need the entire castle hearing...could get crowded if you catch my drift. You can repay me by promising not to try to kill me too. Deal?”

His icy blue eyes flick from my hand to my face and back again, acting for all the world as though I’d grown a third head and turned purple. Like I’d said, it was be a bit of a leap to think he could take out someone with my level of training and expertise, but come on. The dude’s twice my size. There’s the added detail that I’m constantly paranoid, so...this agreement I’m asking for is more cause of the latter. The muscle bound man turned around with a shrug and started the descent back down the stairs. “You got it, Rap.”

Not quite the reaction I’d been looking for, but I’d take what I could get.

Stopping suddenly, he gives me yet another strange look. “No more needles, got it? Whatever else you want to do, I hate needles.”

And off he goes. You do know what this means though, right? I’ve got a sorta friend of my very own! Far as exchanging names and a nonextermination pact can make it. Don’t care! I’m pretty psyched! Gonna be teasing the patience outta this one.

[graysonfirewolf85-blog]

Suicide and Witchcraft

The one question everyone has asked without exception, that they ache to have answered more than any other, is simply: why? Why did their friend, child, parent, spouse, or sibling take their own life? Even when a note explaining the reasons is found, lingering questions usually remain: yes, they felt enough despair to want to die, but why did they feel that? A person's suicide often takes the people it leaves behind by surprise (only accentuating survivor's guilt for failing to see it coming).

People who've survived suicide attempts have reported wanting not so much to die as to stop living, a strange dichotomy but a valid one nevertheless. If some in-between state existed, some other alternative to death, I suspect many suicidal people would take it.

In general, people try to kill themselves for six reasons:

1) They're depressed. This is without question the most common reason people commit suicide. Severe depression is always accompanied by a pervasive sense of suffering as well as the belief that escape from it is hopeless. The pain of existence often becomes too much for severely depressed people to bear. The state of depression warps their thinking, allowing ideas like "Everyone would all be better off without me" to make rational sense. They shouldn't be blamed for falling prey to such distorted thoughts any more than a heart patient should be blamed for experiencing chest pain: it's simply the nature of their disease. Because depression, as we all know, is almost always treatable, we should all seek to recognize its presence in our close friends and loved ones. Often people suffer with it silently, planning suicide without anyone ever knowing. Despite making both parties uncomfortable, inquiring directly about suicidal thoughts in my experience almost always yields an honest response. If you suspect someone might be depressed, don't allow your tendency to deny the possibility of suicidal ideation prevent you from asking about it.

2) They're psychotic. Malevolent inner voices often command self-destruction for unintelligible reasons. Psychosis is much harder to mask than depression, and is arguably even more tragic. The worldwide incidence of schizophrenia is 1% and often strikes otherwise healthy, high-performing individuals, whose lives, though manageable with medication, never fulfill their original promise. Schizophrenics are just as likely to talk freely about the voices commanding them to kill themselves as not, and also, in my experience, give honest answers about thoughts of suicide when asked directly. Psychosis, too, is treatable, and usually must be treated for a schizophrenic to be able to function at all. Untreated or poorly treated psychosis almost always requires hospital admission to a locked ward until the voices lose their commanding power.

3) They're impulsive. Often related to drugs and alcohol, some people become maudlin and impulsively attempt to end their own lives. Once sobered and calmed, these people usually feel emphatically ashamed. The remorse is often genuine, but whether or not they'll ever attempt suicide again is unpredictable. They may try it again the very next time they become drunk or high, or never again in their lifetime. Hospital admission is therefore not usually indicated. Substance abuse and the underlying reasons for it are generally a greater concern in these people and should be addressed as aggressively as possible.

4) They're crying out for help, and don't know how else to get it. These people don't usually want to die but do want to alert those around them that something is seriously wrong. They often don't believe they will die, frequently choosing methods they don't think can kill them in order to strike out at someone who's hurt them, but they are sometimes tragically misinformed. The prototypical example of this is a young teenage girl suffering genuine angst because of a relationship, either with a friend, boyfriend, or parent, who swallows a bottle of Tylenol, not realizing that in high enough doses Tylenol causes irreversible liver damage. I've watched more than one teenager die a horrible death in an ICU days after such an ingestion when remorse has already cured them of their desire to die and their true goal of alerting those close to them of their distress has been achieved.

5) They have a philosophical desire to die. The decision to commit suicide for some is based on a reasoned decision, often motivated by the presence of a painful terminal illness from which little to no hope of reprieve exists. These people aren't depressed, psychotic, maudlin, or crying out for help. They're trying to take control of their destiny and alleviate their own suffering, which usually can only be done in death. They often look at their choice to commit suicide as a way to shorten a dying that will happen regardless. In my personal view, if such people are evaluated by a qualified professional who can reliably exclude the other possibilities for why suicide is desired, these people should be allowed to die at their own hands.

6) They've made a mistake. This is a recent, tragic phenomenon in which typically young people flirt with oxygen deprivation for the high it brings and simply go too far. The only defense against this, it seems to me, is education.

The wounds suicide leaves in the lives of those left behind by it are often deep and long lasting. The apparent senselessness of suicide often fuels the most significant pain. Thinking we all deal better with tragedy when we understand its underpinnings, I've offered the preceding paragraphs in hopes that anyone reading this who's been left behind by a suicide might be able to more easily find a way to move on, to relinquish their guilt and anger, and find closure. Despite the abrupt way you may have been left, guilt and anger don't have to be the only two emotions you're doomed to feel about the one who left you

Powerless

So you feel powerless? You feel like you don't know what to do and think you're a failure as a witch. How do we use magick which requires our full sensibilities, willpower, emotional functions such as love, passion, and desire if they are dulled by medication? That is a good question. Is crossed my mind quite a bit. Our Magick is definitely affected.

"Witchcraft is the craft of the wise. Wise people don’t become wise simply because they have acquired some knowledge. They become wise because their knowledge is enhanced through experience. Strong Healers were often inspired through needing healing in the first place. Through our own healing, we can be inspired to heal and without the experience of being a patient we can not fully understand how to healing process can work."

The Pretty Pill

"Drugs often interfere with real magick. The nature of how anti-depressants work is in how they “dull the senses”. It changes the chemical balance in the brain to enhance the mood which often takes away emotional aspects of what we draw from when creating and manifesting from desire. But… So does depression… There are many physical causes of depression that can be managed through other forms of treatments and yes, many of them are holistic. If someone is suicidal or dealing with depression, should they NOT take their anti-depressants? I am not saying that at all. For many, anti-depressants are necessary at least for a while. I am saying there may be another solution to look into as part of the long-term treatment plan."

have too agree with the above from Summer in her article in Witch Digest. Drugs for depression are designed to dull the senses. It's also a teeter-totter in the sense that some cases require the use of anti-depressants. YET, again, not all drugs are designed to dull the senses and sometimes the drugs don't even work

6 Ways to Improve

Balance and Grounding

The mind, body, and spirit work together. When one part is out of balance, it can throw the other parts of us out of whack. That is the theory of finding balance. The art of trying to keep all three aspects in balance at the same time. I believe it takes a lifetime to master and I don’t believe it is actually 100% mastered even by the masters. That is how grounding helps us regain our balance.

Diet

Sometimes the food we eat doesn’t work well with our bodies and throws off the balance of our overall well-being. Finding a diet that works for us through a process of elimination and cleansing to help us feel our best can have positive effects but it may not be the end all solution. That also may include a dietary supplement. Care must be taken when changing one’s diet or adding a supplement. A good example is St. John’s Wort because it is known for being a mood enhancer. The biggest problem with St. John’s Wort is for those with Bipolar it can make things worse and increase the cycling effects of the disease. Not to mention how it works is by changing the levels of serotonin, a chemical in the brain, and so does anti-depressants and the combinations can be dangerous and even life-threatening.

Exercise

Adding exercise to one’s lifestyle can have many health benefits. Exercise is known to increase endorphins that can have a mood enhancing effect. But, we have to be careful not injure ourselves and care must be taken. Exercises that get our bodies in motion are great. I enjoy a dance night where I get up and dance in my living room and have a blast being silly or going for a scenic walk around my neighborhood when safety permits or even walking in the local mall. Chi gong, Tai Chi and even Yoga is said to have positive effects on mood and energy.

Holistic energy healing

Holistic healing techniques such as Reiki for some can make a huge difference as part of the whole healing and recovery process.

Meditation

This can help us regulate our balance and grounding through trying various techniques. These techniques can be found through counseling, learning through teachers or masters and even through internet searches.

Counseling

Most of all, counseling if done with the correct mindset can also add to recovery in the healing process. I have seen people go through years of psychotherapy and never recover and I have seen someone go through just a few sessions or a few years of therapy and do more healing than ever expected. Finding the right type and quality of counselor is necessary. Remembering that a counselor can only guide you on your healing path and the healing process is up to you is a key factor in benefiting from counseling.

Permanently Medicated

If one is permanently medicated or even temporarily, How can a Witch work magick while medicated? Well, there is a way. You have to work around the constraints and only you, the magickal practitioner can discover what that is for yourself. Knowing how your illness works on your overall health, which contains all three of the mind, body, and spirit and how the treatments affect your overall health is a good place to start.

Trial and error is often the only way to figure out which options work best for you.

Conclusion

Healing one aspect of our whole being requires the complimentary healing of each of our three parts; Mind, body, and spirit. At least that is what I believe. For some, medication can actually enhance their well-being and therefore increases their magickal abilities.

[Source 1|https://witchdigest.com/25707/can-depression-affect-my-magick/]

[Source 2|https://www.nimh.nih.gov/health/topics/depression/index.shtml]

[Source 3|https://www.google.com/amp/s/www.psychologytoday.com/intl/blog/happiness-in-world/201004/the-six-reasons-people-attempt-suicide%3famp]

[jcmorrigan]

So if you're still taking questions, which if you're not then just ignore me, what were your plans for the Little Mermaid arc? And what world, was going to come after it?

The Mane Six strike a deal with Ursula to become sea ponies so they can go underwater and chase down the Evil Manta, who damaged the Starlight. They called Tony Stark and he said he’d send a drone to that world with repair materials for the ship, but it might take a few days. 

When underwater, the ponies run into Gabriella (from the animated series - a lot of characters from extended canon turn up here), who guides them to Atlantica. There, they see Sebastian taking auditions from various characters (Ariel, her sisters and friends) for a musical revue. The ponies try out.

Meanwhile, Ursula forms an evil alliance of herself, Evil Manta (who is her father), Morgana, Flotsam, Jetsam, Undertow, Cloak, Dagger, Marina Del Rey, Benjamin, Lobster Mobster, and Shrimp. The latter four have to be broken out of jail by Morgana.

 Little Evil sees the jailbreak and swimming off to see what all the hullabaloo is about, since he recognizes his sister Morgana in it. When the villain entourage arrives at Ursula’s grotto, everyone gets acquainted. Ursula is less than thrilled to know she’s working with Lobster Mobster, but the tone of the room completely changes when Ursula and Morgana ask how their little brother has been and Little Evil is, well, Little Evil, calling his dad “Popsie” and not being evil at all. Evil Manta is sheepish and tries to defend his parenting tactics, as he loves his son whether he’s evil or not. Ursula gives Evil Manta some shit about his previous schemes, that now it will require a little more than complimenting people to spread prejudice. She also brings up the boot.

The villains’ overall plan is to spread prejudice throughout all the Seven Seas by having Evil Manta go between the various nations and spread tidings of war, namely telling each nation that all the others are out to get it. Nations include Atlantica, Olympia, Valhalla, the Chasm (“Charmed”), Ablow Kadablow (“Giggles”), Sharkania, and I think there were some more in there that I’m forgetting. The goal is to get them all to go to war against each other and destroy each other, particularly Atlantica so Triton will leave the throne clear for Ursula to take over.

The Atlantican squadron figures this out. Triton takes a small delegation - Attina, Urchin, and a couple of the sea ponies - with him to one of the affected nations for a peace talk. He cautions Ariel to please, please, PLEASE stay out of this one and remain at home where it’s safe. She of course doesn’t listen and takes her own faction, which would have had Pinkie Pie, at least one other pony, and probably Gabriella and Arista, to another nation. As you can probably guess, this was my big chance to give all Ariel’s sisters actual screen time. Like they DIDN’T really get in Ariel’s Beginning. I was also going to play things up between the sisters, Urchin, Gabriella, Pearl, and Little Evil for ships to see if anything stuck. I currently don’t know what the most likely candidates were for those ships. I do know the one big endgame ship I wanted to play for was Marina/Lobster Mobster. Which I’m slightly trash for. Anyway, a delegation of the Atlantica contingent plus the remaining ponies (Twilight is in this group) remains home at Atlantica just in time for a big invasion - this one I KNOW was by the blowfish of Ablow Kadablow - forcing them to try diplomatic tactics early.

I think Triton’s faction went to Valhalla. That or Sharkania. A few interesting things go on in that faction. Attina informs Urchin that one of the biggest reasons Triton took such a shine to him is because of an older brother the sisters had who apparently died. As you can guess, this is Myde, who would later become Demyx, and he didn’t die; he ran away from home. Anyway, Triton sees Urchin as a chance to get the bonding he lost when Myde disappeared. Marina and Lobster Mobster are dispatched to take care of Triton during this bit, and they use the youth spell from “Red” to turn Triton into a baby, which they then kidnap. This results in shenanigans of the two of them acting as the worst parents ever (in a reference to “Double Bubble,” where LM gets a soft spot for two royal baby hostages). That leaves the other members of his faction to try and rescue him.

In Ariel’s faction, she and Pinkie Pie bond the most.

In the stay-at-home faction, Twilight tries a drastic move to seal away the Evil Manta with magic when next he comes around. Under some circumstance or another, the Manta DOES come to Atlantica to try and attack it, and Twilight attempts to seal him in the volcano all by herself. She fails and the Manta breaks free. This activates the clause in Ursula’s contract where Twilight doesn’t get to keep her sea pony form if she tries and fails to subdue the Manta, and she turns back into a human. She quickly hides before anyone can see her, using magic to conjure up air to breathe. Everyone thinks she died or disappeared somehow in the conflict against the Manta, except for whatever other pony stayed in this faction, who just gets super worried.

I didn’t know what was going to happen to resolve the Triton conflict or what happened with Ariel’s faction at all. That was going to be me making it up as I went along. I only knew I had to hit up all the nations and send delegates from each to Atlantica due to the peace talks. Twilight’s storyline was the one I fleshed out most. Now a human, Twilight makes her way back to Ursula’s grotto on foot on the seabed, remembering that the sea witch offered her hospitality if something like this ever happened. On the way, she passes through Shark Canyon (“Trident True”) and uses the glowing shells to form a light rainbow that she uses to Iris-Message Mozenrath. She catches him in the middle of a quest that would become a later interlude focused on him; all the conversations would be replayed from his POV at that time. Basically, once again, while the Mane Six have a year plus’ worth of adventures, only three or so days pass for him. Anyway, he briefly mentions that he and Hecate are out on a mission against someone named “Nasira.” Mozenrath and Twilight exchange some pleasantries and build the ship, but then Twilight has to be on her way. The next place she ends up is the ship of Archimedes (“Metal Fish”). Archimedes, being the only merperson besides Ariel to sympathize with humans, offers Twilight guidance and escorts her to Ursula’s grotto. Now, Evan brought up to me when I was piecing this whole thing together that Archimedes was almost certainly dead by the time TLM1 happens, or else Ariel would have brought the Dinglehopper to him instead of Scuttle. While I don’t normally kill characters in EoH, this was a perfect opportunity to give the Manta some street cred. Twilight and Archimedes arrive at Ursula’s grotto to find the Manta chillin’ with the villains there, and Twilight realizes she’s been taken for a ride. Evil Manta kills Archimedes; Little Evil sees this and is horrified. Ursula then turns Twilight into a sea worm for her garden.

Meanwhile, delegates from all the various nations gather in Atlantica and get over their differences. Pinkie Pie and Ariel figure out that the way to end Evil Manta’s reign of terror is with a song. They set up a plan of attack. When the Manta next arrives in Atlantica, wanting to know why the hell war hasn’t broken out over the entire Seven Seas, he’s met by a choir of merfolk and fish singing “No One Together” by Kansas, which you saw in the revue rehearsal scene. This is enough to chase him back to the volcano and seal it over with magic without using the Elements of Harmony at all!

Back in the grotto, Little Evil feels bad for what happened to Twilight, and he takes a potion from Ursula’s cabinet and uses it to restore Twilight’s sea pony form. They race to Atlantica as fast as they can. On the way, Little Evil talks about how much he loves his dad, and Twilight begins to wonder if sealing the Evil Manta away is the right thing after all. But by the time they get to Atlantica, it’s too late. The Manta is already back inside the volcano, and Little Evil is devastated. It comes out around this time that Ariel was the one who sicced the Brain Sponge on the Manta in “A Little Evil,” which Little Evil canonically never saw happen. Feeling betrayed by everyone he considered friend, Little Evil flees. Twilight chases him to comfort him. He tells her that while everyone is probably expecting him to go evil over this, he doesn’t really want to. He just needs to take some time to himself to think everything over. Twilight lets him go, and he begins soul-searching across the seas.

Triton and Ursula have a face-off, but Triton ultimately lets her go free and unpunished due to lingering feelings he has for her. He believes deep down that she can change, which is sadly his mistake.

The musical revue might go on, or it might just get replaced by everyone singing the Manta away and we call that a performance.

A definite scrapped subplot involved having Daniel (“Island of Fear”) mutate into a crab person because of Vile’s experiment hitting him latently, and him going underwater to join the main crew of heroes. Ultimately, I decided to keep Daniel human and on land; he would become more relevant on the return trip during the Kingdom Hearts run.

When the Mane Six get back to shore, they find that Tony Stark didn’t send a drone to fix the ship after all. He came in person on a ship of his own. He just got done repairing the Starlight, and the Mane Six decide to let him tag along on the next adventure. When they take off, it’s with Tony Stark in tow.

The last scene of the storylet catches up with a now-human Myde playing in a troop of street musicians in a square in Ashmark. He is approached by two strange women, who turn out to be Rosalina (Super Mario Galaxy) and Midna (Legend of Zelda: Twilight Princess). The two of them tell him he’s who they’ve been looking for. He’s afraid they’re Atlanticans who came to drag him back home - he left and stole potions from Ursula to become human because he wanted to evade that kind of responsibility, and Ursula forever resents him for being able to steal from her and get away with it alive - but he soon realizes they’re there for an entirely different reason, one that would be revealed in a later interlude.

This catches up the Mane Six’s timeline with that of the Overtakers.

The next world would have been from the young adult book series “Maximum Ride.”