#very different. like 2 strangers made those questions and threw them in the system and nobody revised that shit

[simandy]

I think my exams are AI generated. Can i die now

[tomtenadia]

My knight in shining armour

Rowaelin month Day 2 - University AU

I literally just finished this. I wasn’t going to write for this prompt but then an idea finally hit me.

The title as usual is bad... sorry

2k words

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Aelin had days in which she hated men. That was one of those days. 

After finishing high school she decided to took a challenging course at the University of Terrasen. Her dad, before he retired, had been an airforce pilot. She had grown up going around his base, visiting him when he was back. In doing so, she had become obsessed with planes. As she grew up, her dad had let her get friendly with his engineer and the man had started teaching her all she needed to know about aircrafts. From the basic physics to the more obscure detail of how the jet worked. Aelin had been fascinated. She had started reading all the possible books, and as she got older, her dad’s engineer had also started having her to actually help her in the hangar. In the summer when school was out, she would actually get a part-time job as an apprentice at the base and she had loved every moment of it. She had also become very close with the two female pilots and together they had spent time talking about the life of a woman in a boys club. The two women had become her role models very quickly.

Terrasen was quite and open minded country but some ideas were still quite obsolete.

In high school at the question “what you want to be when you grow up?” She always answered an aircraft engineer for the airforce. She never faltered or never doubted. That’s what she wanted to, that was her path.

But when time for uni arrived and she applied for a degree in aeronautical engineering, that’s when she realised that the boys club extended far more than she expected.

She was basically the only woman in the class. None of the guys had approached her and on the first day she had walked in the classroom, one of them had the guts to tell her that the humanities department was in the annex c. She ignored the bastard and sat down at the front. She belonged in that room and she would prove it to every single one of them.

Day after day she had shown her knowledge and surprised her professor who was amazed at the fact that she could answer such in depth questions. Last time it happened, she had turned to Chaol - the asshole who had told her about the annex c, and gave him a smirk. That had removed his stupid grin from his face. It felt amazing.

During a private one-to-one with her professor she had confessed to him she had been working at the airbase as an apprentice during the past three summers. Her teacher had luckily been very supportive and encouraged her to keep up the good work.

Now, six months in, she still hated with a vengeance the arseholes she had to study with. Some of them even had the guts to ask her for some help after they realised she was actually good. She had answered that surely they didn’t want the help of a woman, and walked away.

After another class it was finally lunch time and she was meeting Rowan down at their spot on the grass. They were a couple. He had asked her out in the summer after high school was over and they had been together ever since. He was a med student and he knew her pain about choosing a challenging degree. Both their degrees were very intense and required a lot of time so they would just try and spend as much time together as they could. They had a flat together but the public library was were they spent most of their time.

And when their schedules allowed it, they would enjoy lunch together, venting about their academical choices.

“I fucking hate that bastard.” She raged, dropping her bag on the grass and sitting at his side, depositing a kiss on his lips. She felt better almost immediately, being in his arms was all she needed to feel okay again.

“What did he do now?” Asked Rowan knowing of her struggles in her classes.

Aelin grabbed her bag and pulled out her food, the dinner that Rowan had prepared the previous night and then packed away for both of them.

“The teacher gave us an exercise where we had to design an aircraft with what we had learned so far.” She told him, while munching away her food “He was up first and his project was a effing disaster. Seriously, I’d wouldn’t want to fly on a plane designed by him.” She took a sip of her water “the teacher asked us to say what was wrong and it took me ten minutes to stop. I mean, a two year old would have done a better job with lego bricks.”

Rowan giggled at her side “then my turn came and the bastard had the guts to tell me that the aerodynamics of my plane were off and that my ailerons where wrong as well and would not allow the plane to function properly. I took my laptop and shoved it in his face and told him to find the error in my math. He had no clue.” Her face turned smug “then the teacher took over and said that actually my project was, among all, the only one that could actually fly. I felt smug as fuck.”

Rowan pulled an arm around Aelin’s shoulder and pulled her to him. He was proud of her. Every damn day.

“Then after class, he threw me a paper plane and inside it had a message saying this is the only plane you will ever build or work on. I swear, the guy is still alive only because I am not looking forward to finishing my degree via distance learning from a prison.”

She calmed down “how was your day?”

Rowan leaned back against the tree “I had anatomy and physiology. Today we covered the endocrine system and it must be one most boring of them all.”

“Well,” she added with a big smile “when you cover the reproductive system you are welcome to practice with me…”

He laughed and squished her to her chest “I am a very big fan of your… bits.” She kissed him deeply not caring that they were in public, she wanted him and hated that they had more classes before being able to go home and then alas, study more. Maybe for one evening they could study something different.

“Aelin?”

“Yes, buzzard?”

His tongue gently teased her and she opened for him while his hand brushed off a rebel strand of hair.

He pulled back “Nothing, you had tomato sauce on you lips. I was just wiping it off. Did you think I wanted to kiss you?” 

Aelin gently punched him on the shoulder, in return he gave her a massive grin. Rowan was a very reserved man who struggled with stranger, but she had her own version, the goofy one, the one who made jokes and loved to cuddle with her. She would treasure that version forever. That was just for her.

They were busy chatting away and she was showing him on her laptop the exercise she had been working on and her plane prototype and although what she was saying was greek to him, he still listened to her in fascination.

She was telling him how a plane flew and the four forces when a figure stopped in front of them.

“It must be exciting to brag with your boyfriend about your hopeless projects.” Said the man.

Rowan raised his eyes and finally saw the face of the man that had been making Aelin’s life miserable.

“What did you just say?” Rowan stood and towered on the brown-haired man by twenty centimetres. Chaol also looked frail compared to Rowan’s muscular frame.

“Chaol, you’d better go.” Not that she cared about the man, she just didn’t want Rowan to get into trouble for a petty man.

“You’d better give up while you still can, Galathynius. Aeronautical engineering is not a field for a woman.” He crossed his arms at his chest trying to look intimidating but the look in Rowan’s eyes told her it was a useless attempt. Her boyfriend was ready to attack. She knew he had never hit anyone, but had a feeling that if Chaol didn’t stop it could be a first for Rowan.

“Chaol,” she stood as well and growled his name in warning.

“Oh, so you are one of those arseholes who believes that certain jobs can be done only by those who were born with a penis. It’s the fucking 21st century. Grow up, idiot.”

Rowan swore, alarm bells rang in Aelin’s head. He only swore when he was extremely mad, something that her unflappable boyfriend rarely was.

“Oh look, Galathynius, you have a knight in shining armour.”

Aelin moved between Rowan and Chaol, trying to separate them when her boyfriend moved a step closer to the other guy.

Chaol chuckled “Did you sleep with every professor—” but Chaol never finished his sentence. She saw the scene develop in slow motion in front of her. At those words Rowan’s face had turned feral and as on instinct his arm moved and a second later his fist found its target in Chaol’s face. 

Rowan then grabbed Chaol by the collar and lifted him up slightly “You take it back, immediately or I’ll smash all the twenty two bones in your skull.”

“Go on,” said Chaol, nursing a broken lips.

Aelin stopped in between and grasped Rowan’s hand gently “Put him down, Ro, he is not worth it.”

Her gaze then turned to Chaol “now you go back to whatever shithole you came from and perhaps go back working on your project and design a real aircraft.” She moved closer to him “I know what the fuck I am doing. And I know I will have a job in the airforce after this. You will just go back being daddy’s little spoiled boy.”

Chaol glared at her and Rowan finally let go of him, bur before he fully released him he pulled the man close enough that his mouth was near his ear “you disrespect her like that one more time and you’ll finish your degree from a hospital bed while sipping your food from a straw.” Rowan flashed his teeth in a threatening gesture “you leave her alone, because if I hear you have been a bastard to her one more time, I will make your life a living hell.” And eventually released him. Chaol shrugged his t-shirt back into place and walked away without adding another word.

Rowan sighed and then turned to her, his expression back being soft as soon as she looked back at him.

“You didn’t have to punch him,” she said while snuggling against his chest. His arms quickly around her.

“Yes I had to. What he said….” She felt him tense up again “he made me so mad, fireheart.”

“Seeing you thump him was very sexy,” she kissed him gently on the lips “my knight in shining armour.”

Rowan chuckled and looked into he blue eyes “you don’t need a knight. You are fierce, brave and strong and do not need any protection,” he added, his lips on her head. Nesting under his chin was her favourite position. They fit perfectly “I, on the other hand, as a male who is hopelessly in love with you, felt the desperate need to avenge the sullied honour of my amazing other half.”

Aelin giggled hard “you really sound like a knight.”

“Come on, Sir Rowan Whitethorn of Wendlyn, let’s finish our lunch, I have an hour of mechanics of flight coming up and I need sustenance.”

“Yes, my queen,” he said kneeling in front of her.

Aelin laughed and kissed him deeply “maybe I can be your queen tonight in bed as well.”

His smirk grew wider and Aelin felt heat pool at her core at his expression.

“Whatever m’lady commands.”

They finished their lunch in peace without any more interruptions and eventually they parted ways, going to their respective classes.

Chaol did not bothered her anymore. He didn’t even met her gaze and him ignoring her was all she asked. She was there to learn, he could just go and sulk in the afterburner of a jet, perhaps while on, for all she cared.

Aelin texted Rowan a thank you and his reply was a simple To whatever end.

[sopxhiea]

Lush

Alfie Solomons X Reader

Summary: Alfie finds out that the wild little lady has more tricks up her sleeve than he’d initially thought but it all makes him want her even more and this time, she has no contradiction to the fact.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

“You’re so wild that I want to be the one to tame you.”

“I’d be whatever you want me to be.”

Dumfounded.

A deer in headlights, a young kid caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to be doing or the face of someone after a bomb went off. It depended on the person or the situation.

But you concluded that Alfie looked like all of those things combined as he stared at you.

It had been an uneventful day for him, he had taken you out and learned a thing or two about the infamous wild girl the cockneys were banging on about. It wasn’t as easy as he’d thought, this little game he played with you. He doubted that you knew any better but it was a good filtration system to see who’d last and he’d play all the games you’d want if it meant that he’d have you to himself at the end.

A painted smile graces your lips, the lips Alfie had dreamed about for too many times. He looked at you from head to toe and felt his throat dry. He didn’t even blink twice when staring at the barrel of a gun yet here he was, feeling himself go weak at the sight of something half his size. 

You raised your eyebrows, your way of telling him to speak up but he needed a moment to regain his voice so he just stepped to the side instead, urging you to come in.

You looked like a sin walking around in your kitten heels, a sin he was dedicated to committing. 

He recognised the fur coat from earlier that day and wondered if you were wearing underneath the thick material and his questions were soon answered when you threw the expensive clothing on one of the sofas. The sheer dress earned a gulp from him, a deep one at that before he cleared his throat and spoke. It took him a solid minute and you’d been eyeing him the whole time.

You’d kiss him, you’d made a mental note of doing so.

“I’d have you picked up, yeah, if I knew ya were comin’.” he said, eyes roaming all around your body before they landed on your eyes and he found himself a bit too restless.

He wanted to mark you, claim your soft skin as his but the game was still on. He didn’t know when it’d be the end, where you’d open your arms and offer him all that you were but he’d been working the ground for that to happen and he prayed to his gods that it were soon or else, he’d need to deal with the tightness in his pants a bit sooner than he’d want to.

“I prefer walking.” you said while sitting on the sofa you’d sat on the first time you had come around and he felt his blood rise to his cheeks when you crossed your legs and offered him a look at your upper legs.

While he was busy ogling you, you looked around for a sign of anyone around. You knew he didn’t have many close friends, none that came over anyway as he’d told you the first time you’d met the broad man. Your eyes met his blue ones then, a bit hesitant since this part of the game was always a bit nerve wrecking.

The dancing and the enticing was all fine. You’d smile, use your wit and words to interest them further. Men were easy to deal with when they only used the tool between their legs and not their mind. You’d been dealing with Alfie the same way at the beginning.

But soon found out that it was a mistake.

He was easy to rile up and his anger swam at the surface but he was insanely calm. He was calculating, even when it came to a small lady like yourself. He knew you wouldn’t hurt him but that only a fact when it came to physical terms. He knew all along that you could easily wreck him, split his soul into two with a smile so he was careful.

He dealt with liars and manipulators on the daily and he also came to find out that you weren’t the usual deceiver. You had your ways, just as dangerous and thrilling that would get him into endless trouble if he let you do what you wanted. His guard was mostly down, letting you land any hits you’d have but he was strong, too. Body and mind.

“Couldn’t get enough of old me, eh?” he teased as he faced you, sitting on the couch right in front with feet apart. The adventure in the morning had been tasteful to say the least and he had passed the little test.

“Something along the lines of that.” you spoke, voice soft around the air as he watched. His eyelids moved slowly as he inspected you.

It was clear that you were there to get something.

He would give it to you. Hell, he’d give you anything if only you’d ask. But you never would and he figured that was the chase. He watched your lips move as you offered him a smile, genuine this time and he hated the way his chest vibrated with a single act that came from you.

Such danger in a little thing, he thought.

For a while, the both of you just stared at each other. Slowly blinking, you assessed the man before you. He was handsome, calculating and a handful to say the least but those were all things you’d dealt with before, just not all at once. 

You wanted to be wanted, and he was very beautiful under the fire lit room.

Your eyes wandered off to the fireplace but his remained on you. You spoke then, knowing he would stare at you until the moon was decorating the black sky and even when the sun would come up. “You weren’t expecting me.” you said, as a matter of fact.

“Nah. A pleasant fuckin’ surprise, it ‘s.” he said, not missing a beat after your words. Almost like he had been waiting to tell you that.

“Yeah?” you spoke, words enticing as your breathy voice filled the air. You got up in the process, walking towards his sitting form. 

He was almost as tall as you while sitting, his broad form was welcoming. His arms opened to the sides, waiting for you to sit on him. You got the hint and a shy smile formed on your lips. There was a flash of surprise in his eyes as he looked into yours, he had never seen you like this before. Like a cat under the sun, calm and content.

You obliged, for the first time in his time of knowing you.

Your legs lifted and you put them on top of his, slowly. He watched you as your hands reached for his open arms, gripping onto them gently to place yourself securely on his lap. A minute later, you were on top of the man, chest to chest as he looked at you. His hands were on your waist and lower back as his eyes rested on your features.

You were a sight for sore eyes.

He was surprised at your gentleness as he looked at you, speaking in a lower voice than usual. “You’re so wild that I want to be the one to tame you.”

It brought a smile to your lips.

You were known to be the one to run away. Commitment, gentleness or mercy were not things you were known for. You were good at dancing in a sinful way and whispering sweet nothings to strangers’ ears to get what you wanted. You were the one to run away, to sneak out and break all the rules imaginable. 

But there you were, sitting calmly on your handsome stranger’s lap with a smile on your lips. You were calm as a bird as you smiled at his words, eyes looking at your hands as your cheeks slowly flushed. This was a different side of you, just as deathly as the one Alfie knew but it was slightly softer.

“Let me know if that works out.” you whispered against his face, the more you spoke the more closer he got to your face.

He nodded, ready to come up with a snarky remark to match yours as he usually did. It was natural, this banter between the two of you and he doubted it would change. He didn’t want it to. But he watched your eyes change under the fireplace’s light, something shifted and you leaned forward, inch by inch.

You’d kiss him tonight, you’d promised yourself.

There was no hesitation when his lips met yours, the plump pillows you’d dreamed about melted against yours. It felt like the sound of a click, like the key had been put into its rightful position but you ignored the feeling when his large hand grasped the base of your skull in a gentle manner. You smiled against his lips as his tongue met yours. Small mews came out of your mouth as he kissed you.

He was a good kisser, you hadn’t doubted it but this just proved the point further. Your hands remained on his chest while his other hand explored your back. You were so breathy when you kissed that he was losing his mind. The air in your lungs slowly disappeared and you broke the kiss, lips swollen and red from his breathless kiss.

The sight felt like a bullet wound in his chest as he looked at you.

You licked your lips and he felt himself reaching for them but stopped. You had been the one initiating it but he still wanted you to be comfortable with his kisses. Once he knew you were, he’d never leave you alone. You sensed the hesitation and pulled his face against yours using the collar of his shirt.

You’d always had the upper hand until now, you still did but now you were the one seeking him out as opposed to the usual dynamic. He concluded that he liked it better this way, when you were the one to initiate things. You licked your lips and reached for him.

He didn’t need to be told twice.

His lips felt like velvet against yours, he was drinking every moan and mewl that came from you as you gave him the upper hand for the first time, letting him take over the kiss. It soon proved to be the best choice, you thought while he kissed you like you were a breath of fresh air while you ran out of the very same air, dizzy with swollen lips.

After you gently broke the kiss, you saw it in his eyes. The thing you’d been chasing, not in every man but in this particular one. It was usually lust you’d see after a kiss, a hungry pair of eyes that belonged to the gent kissing you but this time, it was mixed with something else. Something quite foreign.

Adoration.

Licking your lips once more, you got up from his lap and like nothing had happened, sat on the couch you were sitting on when you first arrived in the room. He looked a bit disheveled, chest rising rapidly as he looked at you with hands on his legs. You offered him a gentle smile and he thought for the countless time, he’d give you anything.

“Where’s Cyril?” you spoke, voice breathy and he thought it was a joke at first but soon realised that it was dead serious.

He saw the game you were playing.

All along, he had wanted a taste of you. You’d kept him on his toes, dancing and prancing around with fancy words and smart remarks until he could no longer stand the teasing. Now, you had given him what he wanted, a taste but he saw it all now. It was an extremely smart move from your part.

He wasn’t satisfied with just one kiss, you knew he wouldn’t be. He thought you tasted like a spring day when the flowers blossom and the grim weather is replaced with the smiling rays of the sun. He wanted more, much more, and he was weaker than before, now that he knew how sweet your kisses were.

You had him on the hook.

The big scary shark was in your hands now, tied to the strings you’d wrapped around his broad body without him realising. You wouldn’t hurt him, no. You’d play with him a little, push all the red buttons and see how far he goes when it comes to certain things. And you’d tease him to no end, now that he was completely addicted.

You gave him another smile as he spoke, his lips were swollen too. “Out.”

A chuckle escaped your lips at the short answer. Was he mad now? It didn’t matter, as long as you had him under the spell and from the way he was looking at you, he was in the right space. “Out where?”

“With a fuckin’ friend.” he spoke, eyes glaring at you as you licked your lips. Cyril was with Ollie for the time being, needed a change of setting and Alfie trusted Ollie enough, more than he trusted you.

“Hm.” you nodded while humming. 

He wasn’t livid but you knew by now that Alfie’s anger swam at the surface.

And he was angry.

Angry that he had fallen for the oldest trick in the book. The forbidden fruit. You had been that fruit for the longest time, only because you were playing a game and he was willing to play it with you but he didn’t know. He didn’t know how sweet your lips tasted or the way your small body seemed to fit his when you sat on his lap. 

But he knew he’d miss the warmth of your body and the soft skin of your face against his. He was screwed, he soon realised. Now that he had a taste, you were all he’d ever ask for. He saw the victory in your eyes, a pat in the back was well deserved for you in the little game you were playing with his old heart.

“Alfie..” you said, breathy voice gaining his attention in the matter of a second. He was still mad but his need and want to kiss you would overshadow that.

He looked at you, as if to say ‘speak up’. So you did.

“All you need to do...is ask.” you said, legs uncrossing and crossing again. 

He knew that.

He knew that if he’d ask for a kiss or a fuck or a dance, he’d lose. That was the game. He had been the one to seek you out all the other times but it was never a question, it was more of a ‘I’m here now and you’ll come with me’ sort of thing. It fit the game.

But if he were to ask, that would mean that he was the loser and you could do anything. He knew you’d wreck him, like you’d been doing for the past months of knowing him. He didn’t want to lose, he just wanted you to himself but he also wanted you to be impressed and liked this push and pull dilemma so he’d keep the game on, play as well as he could.

He wouldn’t ask. No matter how desperate he was to do so.

“Hm.” he grunted while tugging at his beard. His eyes roamed all over your body, a gulp present on his throat as you looked him in the eye.

Alfie was a joy to play with.

“If only you’d ask...” you spoke, getting up and swaying your hips while walking towards him. He was in a trance, too dazed to get out to a point where even a bullet wouldn’t help. “I’d be whatever you want me to be.”

That was the last straw.

You had skilfully knocked him out, no air in his lungs as he stared at your small form standing right on front of his seated one. He didn’t get it, just how dangerous a small thing like you could be.

He blamed himself.

He’d been told these things before but thought that the blokes were just drunk at the time, the liquor giving them illusions regarding what had happened. They’d told him about the danger in your eyes, the one residing in your smile that could surely bring down any man but he thought, foolishly, that he wasn’t just any man.

And he wasn’t, but that didn’t change any of the facts.

You saw him gulp first. He was staring at your eyes as you stood in front of him, helpless and tender. You knew he’d do anything you’d ask for but you needed him to be the one to ask. That way you had the upper hand. He looked at your body from head to toe and his eyes landed on yours again. 

He was fucked. Simply and utterly fucked.

“Cat got your tongue?” you spoke, a giggle at the end of the sentence and he swore he was ready to have right then and there.

Men were scared of him, many mighty gangsters of different lands have said less and had their brains scattered on the pavement. You were far past the line of pushing it and Alfie saw it in your eyes that, as a matter of fact, you didn’t give a single fuck.

“I’ve fuckin’ killed for less.” he spoke, more to himself than you but you heard the gruff in his voice. He was coming around.

“Well, If you killed for less maybe you’ll fuck for more?” you spoke in a heartbeat and it took him a solid minute. There you were in a sheer dress, asking him if he wanted to fuck you and he knew you wouldn’t let him at the end.

“Lass...”he said, a warning in his tone as he eyed you.

You got the clue.

“Alright, old man.” you said, walking away to sit on the sofa again. “You look all hot and bothered.” you said, sarcasm dripping from your words but it was true.

It wasn’t right to fuck you now, Alfie knew the rules. There was still much needed foreplay and all that, he knew that for a fact. He also knew that you weren’t done playing and it would still take some time for you to let him close to you, let alone have you. 

He’d wait, he’d made that decision the first night he’d met you.

“You’re playin’ with the wrong fuckin’ person, Y/N.” he spoke, saying your name in a way that made tingles appear on your back. You smiled at the words before crossing your legs again.

"It’s quite fun.” you spoke, leg bouncing up and down as he kept his eyes on you.

What a curious thing you were.

You were dangerous, far more than the gangsters he made business with everyday and he’d give you that. You had bigger balls than a dozen proper lads he knew but there was also something in your eyes he couldn’t quite place. It was not sadness or agony, you wouldn’t show him that.

 It was the need to be adored.

Your looks and moves contributed to the whole charade, he knew, but you liked to be adored, loved almost. He didn’t know if it was love yet, only that you had him wrapped around your dainty finger. He’d gladly do anything you’d ask and you knew that but that was no fun. Fun came to be when he was the one demanding things, it was more thrilling that way.

He wondered if you’d let him have you that night. You had come all the way to his house and were the one seeking him out, it was usually the other way around. He didn’t ponder on it for too long, he’d just get disappointed if he did. He looked at the smile on your lips and then sighed, he was in deep.

“Can I see your library?” you asked, almost like a little kid this time. 

There was a switch, he thought.

He’d seen you act like a bold lady with a million dollar smile, a kind lady in a boarding school who was well behaved and a little kid who just wanted some attention. He saw the look in your eyes change every now and then and wondered this time, whether there were more sides to you.

Women were complex creatures, you were the proof of that.

“What kind o’ fuckin’ prize do I get out of it?” he spoke, voice gruff as he looked at you. He picked up the game really quickly and you were slightly surprised at the question but carried on nevertheless. 

“I won’t tell Annabelle I stayed over.” you spoke in a low voice.

He unpacked the words, slowly.

Alfie was not a fearful man, everyone around knew the fact. He had killed men with bare hands before and had even crushed one of their windpipes with his left hand. But he was slightly annoyed by Annabelle, the head teacher in the boarding school was nothing but useless talk.

He didn’t even think you’d be staying over and it meant nothing but trouble, he’d welcome it with open arms. He looked at your eyes first and then your body. He’d promised himself to behave, that he’d be proper tonight and keep his hands to himself.

But only if you wanted him to.

“Right.” he spoke and got up, walking towards the library and you followed him like a small kid. He felt a smile tugging at his lips as he opened the large doors and concluded that he was getting too soft for his liking.

The doors were large and tall, almost extended all the way to the ceiling as your eyes scanned through them. Alfie pushed the door slightly after removing the lock underneath the floor. You didn’t realise he was waiting for you to get inside until he put his hand on the small of your back and realised you were too busy staring at the tall doors.

You shot him a smile, no threat underneath your lips and walked inside. The library space turned out to be his study, countless shelves decorating the space and his desk on the other end of the spacious room. The detailing was all in wood, something you thought suited him as you sat down on the large chair in front of the desk.

His chair, to be exact.

He smiled through the thick beard, finding a flood of emotions in his heart. It was all fun and that, he agreed but he was a man of taste and got what he wanted, always. He soon realised that maybe that thing wasn’t the deal he was making behind the Russians or doing shit behind the Shelby’s back but you, just a small girl who was too lethal for her own good.

“Show me your favourite book, Mr. Solomons..” you whispered as you stood close to him near one of the shelves. He was aware of your close proximity but tried to pay no attention to it. You looked at his face first and then his hands as they reached across the shelf and picked out an old, torn out cover.

He handed it to you but that was no good. You grabbed his hand, pulled him across the room to where the large sofa was and made him sit down. He didn’t protest, didn’t say anything but just looked at you. You got comfortable on the sofa, and handed the book back to him.

“Read it to me...” you said in a hushed voice, almost like this was not a part of the deal. You were being quiet as a lamb now, not like the dangerous woman he knew but he decided both sides were equally fascinating to him. You gulped and heard the voice of Annabelle on your head, shouting at you for not using proper greetings and spoke up again with the softest gaze. “..please.”

How could he say no?

So he started reading but you weren’t looking at the book. Shifting closer to his large body, you leaned against his arm after putting your head against it. He was a dream to snuggle with and you realised what kind of a man he was while he read to you in his glasses. 

He was a rare one.

Most men, who were proper enough to be able to see you after the first date, would try to fuck you or have a kiss at least. None of them would wait after hearing the word going around, about how had it was to tame you. Alfie had waited for over a month, didn’t even try anything funny until you were the one sitting on his lap, in his home with your lips against his.

You decided you’d keep playing the game, but for a bit longer than the usual.

You didn’t let him stop reading as you stared at his face, he was very aware of your ogling and the fact that it wasn’t sexual, not in any shape or form. You were measuring something, whether he’d be worth keeping.

All men did was disappoint and you’d given yourself countless pep talks about how worthless it was to think any of them would have the capacity to love you, after the years of wild dancing and making a name for yourself. A tinge in your heart told you that maybe this man would but it was hard to trust the tinge.

So you decided you’d test him, more than once.

You put all the ideas of love and the possibility of having something with this man into a box as you watched his lips move while he read to you. You’d pull all of those ideas out once you were sure he was worth keeping, that he wouldn’t hurt you and you put on your game face. You’d tease him instead of asking him to love you, this wasn’t the time to ask for tenderness but to see what he was playing at.

He was a gangster who had fucked people over before, after all.

“Alfie.” you spoke, only the second time you were referring to him by his name.

He looked up from the book almost immediately and grunted, as if to say ‘speak’. You noticed the things swimming in his blue orbs but ignored them.  “Ask me.”

He promised himself he wouldn’t.

If he asked, he lost. If he asked, he was in trouble, even more so than he was in now, with you in his house for the night.

“I won’t tell.” you whispered against his face, closer to his handsome features now.

He wasn’t going to ask, that wasn’t the plan he had made with himself.

He didn’t know what you’d do with him, if he were to ask you. You could ruin him with one word like you had almost done earlier and he wouldn’t regret it but the game was still on. The desperation in his tone would take over, he knew that much and if he were to ask you, he’d never have the upper hand again, not if  you were kissing him like you had been earlier.

But he forgot all of that as you stared at him with soft eyes, wanting only one word to come out of his mouth.

He was the one to come visit you, take you places unannounced and get you from dinner parties you should’ve been attending. He had asked you if you’d fuck him that day in his office and the one to put a gun in your hand. If someone asked, he was fucked. In the accordance of things, you seemed like a poor girl he kept dragging around.

It could turn around, very easily. And he didn’t want that.

But the way you looked at him made him forget almost everything and his lips were moving before he could register the thought. “Kiss me, lass.”

And you did.

His lips were soft, heavenly even as you leaned forward and kissed him once more. You wouldn’t tell anyone that he had lost this round, as well as all the last rounds you’d played with the gangster. His hand moved to your waist as your upper body was on top of his, head no longer resting against his arm but in level with his as you moved your lips against his plump ones.

You had kissed guys before, enough of them to know that Alfie was a damn good kisser. A small moan left your lips and he swallowed the sound, too eager to kiss you as much as he could so that he could convince himself that this wasn’t a dream after all.

Breaking the kiss almost hesitantly, you licked your lips to savour the taste of his kiss. He looked down at your flushed cheeks, your hands still resting on his chest while his remained on your waist. You didn’t look up to meet his eyes this time, too afraid that it would reveal something about you to him. Transparency was not something you wanted him to see, especially not the storms he was stirring inside you with his velvet kisses.

“You can..uh....” you spoke, caught off guard since the first time he’d met you.

And you were beautiful like this.

Cheeks flushed and lips swollen, struggling to get the words out even though you had many for him a minute ago. Your hair was messy than before, heart beating loudly against his chest while you avoided his blue orbs.

And he thought, for a split second, that he might have a chance with you after all.

“..continue reading the book.” you spoke while lifting yourself off of his chest. You were still trying to catch your breath, a look of slight panic on your face every now and then but it was too brief for Alfie to comment on it.

“That what you want, pet?” he spoke, in the softest voice he could muster and you felt your emotions stir.

He was the one playing the game now.

You had not used any of your cards til now, he’d been the one to do all the hard work during the push and pull but you had to use one of them now or you’d lose the upper hand, that meant check mate and you’d never lost a round. You had not even come close to it during all your time spent playing this game.

“I could ask you the same question.” you spoke, the devious smile back in a split second and he no longer saw the softer part as you covered it up with your bold moves and pretty smile.

“Right..” he spoke, putting the glasses back on his nose to their rightful place and he ignored his need to kiss you senseless as you sat on the same sofa, just not as close as before. “Back to the fuckin’ book it ‘s..”

He kept on reading, words becoming tangled in your mind as he groaned every now and then about the events taking place on the yellow pages in front of him but you were too busy thinking to listen.

If you weren’t careful enough, this man would win.

Not because you didn’t know the game or didn’t play it well, It was the opposite. You played it so well that he was learning from you. The little winks sent your way, the small touches and the open end questions, not to mention his kisses that made you feel all dizzy. 

You weren’t going into the panic mode but plan strategy instead. You looked at him, his golden beard and plump lips and the words that kept coming out of his mouth. He was smart but you knew the patterns too well, you had played this game longer than he had.

You’d keep him around but he needed to be put in his place, to be shown that you would always have the upper hand in any situation when it was the two of you alone. You wouldn’t lose any rounds, he’d lost almost all of them until now and there was still a smile on his lips due to the events that just took place.

But the night was long and he had many buttons you hadn’t pushed.

------

Tagging: @clairecrive  @parkbearum @sourirez  @vetseras​ @mollybegger-blog @babylooneytoonz @peakascum @fuseburner​ @r-rose08​ @innerpaperexpertcloud @caffinated-tree @cathartichaoss  a/n: I hope january is treating everyone well! I hope you enjoyed this chapter as it has a bit more spice :) Let me know what you thought and/or if you’d like to be tagged!! <3

The next chapter may be delayed since i’m having a busy month in school but it’s in the works :)

[jamespotterthefirst]

All-Nighter (Ethan x f!MC)

Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Lilac Allende) Word count: 2.9K Warning: Language and alluded sexual situations Premise: He’d do anything for her, even fly across the country on moment’s notice. 

A/N: If Ethan had gone to Vegas to spend a full night with MC. Crack and fluff. Sorry! 

12:26 am

Ethan had never understood the appeal of Vegas. The city, crawling with gaudy exhibitionism, reckless gambling, and rowdy party-goers, had always seemed a tad tasteless to him. Even in his med school years when his cohort planned a trip to sin city, Ethan had preferred to find solace in an overpriced drink at a bar off the strip and not dancing against strangers in a stuffy nightclub. 

Now, he had been convinced (albeit too easily) to take a six hour flight to a city he would much rather avoid.

His phone pinged with a notification from her, reminding him of the adult rated texts that had inspired his impromptu trip. 

Miss you. Wish you could see me in this dress. 

Seconds after, a picture came in and Ethan almost dropped his phone on the concrete. 

And finally, she sent one final, maddening addendum: Or out of it. 

It was lucky for Ethan that he was already in the same city as her, one an elevator ride away from ripping that tempting thing off of her. 

I'm outside, he texted back. 

More than anything, he wanted to give in to the burning need to just have her in his arms.

------------------  

12:48 am

As Ethan waited outside the casino she mentioned in a previous text, however, the flashing neon lights making it almost difficult to distinguish that it was nighttime, he held a different doctor in his arms. A very drunk Dr. Lahela had haphazardly collided with him only seconds earlier, throwing an arm around him after recognition hit. Ethan was still unsure if the gesture was out of comradery or to maintain his balance. 

“Ramseyyyy,” he called out with a suave ease that was admirable in his current state. 

Before Ethan could answer, Varma and Sienna Trinh appeared at his side. The former looked just as intoxicated as Lahela, though she was doing a much better job at maintaining her balance and dignity. Sienna, however, looked sober, or sober enough to figure out why Ethan was there for she threw him a knowing smirk. 

“Dr. Ramsey,” she greeted casually over the noise of the busy boulevard. “I forgot Edenbrook sent you here because of our contract with Panacea.”

It was a feeble excuse to explain his presence to the other two. It didn't matter because neither of them was listening anyway. Ethan doubted they ever questioned why he was there in the first place. 

Lahela's arm gripped him tighter as he swayed. “Dr. Ramsey, you have to come with us to the Sugar Factory. They have this drink called the fish bowl. It's exactly what it sounds like except full of candy.”

It sounded like a drink straight out of his nightmare. 

“Lahela, tell me why—” 

To his horror, the young surgeon's face lit up as he started singing. “Ain't nothing but a heartache.”

“Tell me why,” an equally drunk passerby added. 

“Ain't nothing but a mistake,” Lahela continued as others laughed and joined in. By the time they were finished, all three residents laughed hysterically while Ethan remained unmoved, silently wishing he had stayed in the blissful quiet of his apartment in Boston. 

He was reminded of why he had left the comfort of his home to venture into the wild five minutes after the group had departed for the aforementioned Sugar Factory. His eyes found her as soon as she stepped out into the street, clad in the sinfully short dress from her picture. The effect it had on Ethan felt like a punch.

Lilac spotted him too, her face alight with a combination of surprise and unrestrained elation. Before either of them could stop what was about to happen, she rushed into his arms. On instinct, he lifted her off her feet, their lips meeting in a kiss charged with promise. 

“Hi,” she greeted breathlessly when he carefully set her down. 

“Hi,” he returned, sounding just as affected. 

“I had to come out here to make sure you were really here. I can't believe you actually came,” she all but exclaimed, voice laced with giddy happiness. It made his stomach leap pleasantly, inspiring a foolish grin he didn't care to fight back anymore. 

“Me neither,” he confessed. 

“Well, I'm glad you did. I like this spontaneous Ethan Ramsey who flies across the country on a whim.”

That admission sent a thrill through his body. He realized he'd do anything to see that winsome smile each time, even if it meant dropping everything and rushing to her side hundreds of miles away. 

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

1:32 am 

“Eight, six, seven,” Lilac was saying over the roar of the fountains and the Celine Dion song. “Five, three, oh, nine.”

She waited for a hint of recognition, but as 

she had suspected, the drunken frat boy did not understand the reference. Instead, he tapped the number into his phone and flashed her a sloppy smirk. “I'll call you later.”

Ethan appeared at her side after he was gone, shaking his head at her with a smirk. 

“Your drink, Jenny,” he said, offering her a cup that looked to be more ice than drink. 

Lilac laughed as she accepted it, her body gravitating to his side at once. A rush of dizzying joy almost overpowered her every time she realized she didn't have to fight that instinct here. 

“Funny. That's the name I gave him too,” she said taking a sip. “He was insistent and drunk beyond comprehension. I thought it'd be easier to give him a fake number.”

“You gave him a song,” Ethan commented with a laugh. A rare, taunting grin illuminated his face, rendering him the handsomest man she had ever seen. “And you could've just told him you have a boyfriend.”

She arched an intrigued eyebrow, already moving into his embrace. “I have a boyfriend, do I?” 

Ethan's free arm encircled her, casting a glow of warmth over her body. It could have been the small amount of alcohol in her system or this newfound energy that crackled between them, still fizzing with longing but considerably lighter than in the past months. 

He nodded in mock seriousness. 

“And is he the jealous type?” 

Ethan genuinely scoffed at that, his fingers aimlessly caressing her bare back. It made her skin blaze where he touched her. “Jealous of what? A sweaty frat boy crass enough to hit on a beautiful but evidently uninterested woman? Believe me, there's nothing to be jealous about.”

“Case in point,” she laughed, raising herself to kiss his nose.   

Ethan laughed too and took advantage of their sudden proximity to press his lips against hers, their kiss sweet and just as dizzying as the many desperate, passionate ones they had shared. When they parted, that fiery, striking gaze of his remained locked on hers, making her thighs quiver. 

The song in the background reached its final notes as the jets of water disappeared into the dark pool glittering in front of the lavish hotel. The crowd began to disperse but Ethan and Lilac remained on the sidewalk, basking in a content lull, his arm securely around her and her cheek pressed against his chest. She knew without asking that he was enjoying this small allowance of being a real couple just as much as she was. 

At last, her eyes fell on the replica of the Eiffel Tower across the street. In the span of a second, she wondered what it would be like to be in front of the real one, safely wrapped in Ethan's arms.  

“I wonder how it compares to the real one,” she wondered out loud. 

“I've never seen it but I'd wager it's not a true representation.” 

For some reason, she found that surprising. “You've never been to Paris?” 

“I've been for work but my time was spent doing just that. I didn't venture out much into the city to sightsee. To be honest, I didn't understand the appeal.” 

The pause that followed suggested he wanted to add more but he remained silent. When Lilac pulled back from his embrace to look at him, she found those piercing blue eyes studying her intently. 

“I know what we should do for that date you teased in your texts,” she said when she finally found the words. 

It was Ethan's turn to arch his brow at her in interest. “I thought this was our date?” 

“Yes, but we're in Vegas. There's so much to do at this hour. And besides, you promised me all night in one of your texts.”

The crooked smile he gave her along with the wicked glint in his eye should have been illegal. He leaned in and whispered darkly, “That's not what I meant.”

Five words and she was all over him, kissing him in ways that were inappropriate even for Vegas. They broke apart and Ethan looked at her expectantly. 

“So what's this idea for our date?” he prompted when Lilac merely stared at him, lips still burning from his kiss. 

“Oh, right. I was thinking since we were both two giant nerds who powered through med school and never traveled—”

At this, Ethan shook his head, amused. 

“—we could each pick something to do here in Vegas that feels like traveling to somewhere remote.”

“But instead we'll be in a loud casino, surrounded by obnoxious crowds and exposed to secondhand smoke?” 

Lilac rolled her eyes which made him laugh. 

“Fine, I'll do it. But you pick first.”

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

2:17 am

As they glided through the clear waters, Ethan had to admit he could see the appeal in the faux gondola ride. Even if it was romantic, the critical part of him dwelled on the fact that the canals of Venice did not smell strongly of chlorine. He almost voiced the cynical observation out loud, before he remembered this was her idea and the last thing he wanted was to offend her. Although, he was certain Lilac would only laugh and playfully shove him. 

But Lilac was not taunting him, which should have been his first indication that something was off. She wasn't even marveling at the painted ceiling of the casino or making snide comments about the high end shops at the edge of the water and the people who shopped there. Instead, she pressed firmly against his side, her nails digging into his shirt. 

“Are you okay?” he murmured. 

Lilac plastered on the weakest attempt at a smile. Ethan only waited until she dropped the act and said, “Is it weird that the water is freaking me out?” 

Ethan considered that. “Are you afraid of open water?” 

Lilac shook her head. “No, or I would have never suggested this. But once we got in and started moving, the water just looked terrifying?” 

Ethan gave her reassuring smile. “We can get off if you want.”

Again, she shook her head with a brave determination that made his stomach flutter. She was entirely too adorable, even without trying. 

“No, I'll be fine,” she said through a steadying breath. “I'll just refrain from looking at the creepy water. And I'll try not to think about what we'll do if this thing flips over.”

“Rookie, the water is three feet deep. If we capsize we can just...get up on our feet.”

Lilac's eyes moved to meet his at the words. They stared at each other in the golden glow of their surroundings, their expressions unreadable. The silent seconds stretched until they both dissolved into hearty and borderline hysterical laughter. 

Ethan tried his best to sober up first, but when he was close to regaining his composure, he would meet her eye and then they'd both continue to laugh relentlessly. He was aware that they were drawing curious looks from the people observing from the bridges. Even the gondolier cast them a questioning look but said nothing. 

Ethan didn't care. 

It was the happiest he had felt in weeks, amidst everything that had happened. 

They finally sobered and Lilac sighed, much more at ease than before. When she settled against Ethan, it was with her hand softly pressed against his chest, directly over the heartbeat that pounded fiercely for her. 

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

3:31 am

The plan had been to go dancing at the Egyptian themed casino, much to her companion's dismay. In the end, she won against his protest and Lilac was feeling particularly proud of herself for talking Ethan Ramsey into going to a nightclub. Then again, she hadn't missed how his eyes occasionally traveled along the expanse of her plunging neckline or how his fingers trailed along her exposed back whenever he held her. A lot of the credit was owed to the dress. 

Which is probably why they never made it to the nightclub. Instead, they hastily detoured to the penthouse suite the leeches at Panacea paid for, their hands and lips on one another for the majority of the journey there. 

Thirty minutes after ensuring they were truly alone, the miraculous dress lay pooled on her bedroom floor, completely forgotten. Meanwhile, Ethan moved against her in ways that made her scream out his name. As they both reached the peak, Lilac leaned in to whisper exactly what she wanted him to do. 

With a grunt, Ethan obeyed wholeheartedly. 

“Your turn,” she panted minutes later as she rolled off of him. 

“As you wish,” he said, the words interrupted as he too struggled to catch his breath. “Although you know I prefer it when you take the lead.”

She laughed. “No, your turn to pick a place to go next.”

Ethan flipped on his side, offering her the sexiest grin. God, she was really thinking about sleeping with him again, mere minutes after the first round. 

“I thought I picked this one,” he teased, his voice thick and heavy in ways that made her center pool with heat. 

“We both picked this one,” she argued before she kissed him. 

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

3:47 am

Ethan only pretended to consider their next destination. The truth was that he knew the answer since the moment she suggested it in front of the fountains. 

They only had to leave the bed, a feat that was more challenging than it sounded. 

Lilac, far more determined than Ethan, even got as far as slipping back into the lacy black underwear he had removed with his teeth earlier. The deliberately coy smile she sent his way when she realized he was staring, however, had his hands on her hips in seconds. 

“Fucking hell, Lilac,” he murmured against her mouth as he pulled her on top of him for the second time that hour. 

----------

4:59 am

After a third failed attempt to get out of bed, which resulted in both of them making good on the promises they made in their earlier texts, Lilac sat up in bed to look at him full on. She gave him what was supposed to be a stern, admonishing look, but she knew it was half hearted because he looked at her with such adoration that she broke a smile. 

“No more distracting me. You're not getting out of picking, Ramsey.”

Ethan's eyes remained fixed on hers in the darkness of the room, his expression betraying no hints of amusement. Outside, the sky began to glow with the first rays of orange and pink, the promise of the sun's arrival setting the inky blue sky ablaze. 

She frowned, noting the lines of exhaustion on his handsome face. “Are you tired? We can just stay if—” 

“We're already here,” he said quietly. “The place I pick.” 

“Bed?” she asked with a startled laugh. “Ethan Ramsey, you are almost a romantic.”

“Almost?” His mouth betrayed a hint of a smile. “I'm offended, Rookie. But no, as wonderful as we are in bed, that's not my choice.”

Ethan didn't elaborate, the small crease between his brows suggesting he was deep in thought. Every so often, his eyes flickered to hers, holding her gaze briefly before they moved away just as quickly.  

“I'm not—” he started, stopped, and tried again. “I'm not good at this kind of thing.”

A slight flush colored his angled cheekbones, so endearing that she couldn't help but kiss him. In all honesty, she wasn't any better at any of it either, only suggesting the date idea as a clichéd way for them to spend time together in a faraway city. It hadn’t been her proudest moment but had Googled ideas the moment he said he was outside. 

Nervous energy filled the room in their shared silence. 

“The only place in the world I give a damn about is by your side, Lilac,” he said at last, the words quiet but powerful enough to make her pulse clamor like bells. 

Ethan scratched the back of his head at her silence. “I was also hoping this goddamn penthouse had a balcony. I would've picked that as my date because of Miami and the first time we—” 

Lilac interrupted him with a kiss, the force of it over balancing Ethan and sending him into the pillows. She didn't care that their kiss was unceremonious and far from romantic. All she was aware of was the growing, urgent need to kiss this cheesy, romantic, brilliant man. He laughed against her lips, strong hands steadying her on top of him. 

“You're so much better at this than you give yourself credit for,” she informed him when they broke apart. 

“Good,” he said, lifting his head to kiss the curve of her neck. “I was worried there was finally something I didn't excel at.”

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

A/N: Meanwhile, her friends are still partying somewhere on the Strip, begging Bryce to quit drinking while he’s ahead. Those fish bowl drinks are no joke. 

Holy shit that was 3K of nothingness. If you made it this far, thank you! 

This was loosely based on my experience(s) going to Vegas, although I don’t remember most of it. Again, those fish bowl drinks will destroy you lol. 

Thank you to @aestheticartsx for your help with this mess!

P.S. Sorry about the dress in the pic not being the exact same one. I saw some that were close but the wrong color. Others were too crazy with that neckline. Ethan would’ve just dropped dead lol. 

___________

New Tags: (Hope I didn’t miss anyone!)

@openheart12 , @takeharryandgo , @ethandaddyramsey, @trappedinfandoms, @aestheticartsx, @aworldoffandoms, @paulfwesley, @myusualnerdyself,  @rookie-ramsey, @ohchoices, @colossalpainintheass, @enmchoices, @i-bloody-love-drake-walker, @choicesfanaf, @openheartthot, @octobereighth, @nazarihoe, @utterlyinevitable, @kites-in-our-skies, @maurine07, @schnitzelbutterfingers, @doilooklikeiknow, @snesdudes, @kingliam2019, @perriewinklenerdie, @cinnamonspongecake, @choicesstan1, @queencarb, @ethxnrxmsey, @missmiimiie, @jens-diamondchoices, @adamsdumortain, @mrsramseyy, @apphia12, @kalogh, @lucy-268, @binny1985, @queenbirbs, @honeyandsunfl0wers, @newcolonies, @lilyvalentine, @rigatonireid, @interobanginyourmom, @parkerattano, @custaroonie, @nikki-2406, @lilypills, @chasingrobbie, @nooruleman, @angela8756, @lonely-mxxnlight, @ruinedbypixels, @shadynaturehilariouscookie, @shadynaturehilariouscookie, @tsrookie, @mvalentine, @professorkingslay, @drakewalkerfantasy, @casey-v, @helloblueeyedcat, @mysticaurathings, @blossomanarchy, @thegreentwin, @togetherwearerapture, @rookieoh, @ramseysno1rookie, @rookiemarsswiftie, @natashajaniphil, @mysticalgalaxysstuff, @hatescapsicum, @choices-lurker, @kiara-36, @junehiratas, @danijimenezv, @macy-ray85, @adrex04, @canigetanawwjunk, @sanchita012, @overwhelminglyaquarius , @scorpiochick8, @skylarklyon, @starrystarrytrouble​

Interest in this fic:

@udishaman, @a-crepusculo, @khayy19, @mercury84choices, @jlynn12273, @fireycookie 

[translations-by-aiimee]

Mistakenly Saving the Villain - Chapter 5

Original Title: 论救错反派的下场

Genres: Drama, Romance, Xianxia, Yaoi

This translation is based on multiple MTLs and my own limited knowledge of Chinese characters. If I have made any egregious mistakes, please let me know.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Chapter 5 - Wrong Answer

Readers who have read novels such as transmigration, quick transmigration, and system plotlines, know that if the fate of the character in the story must be changed, it should be prevented before the character's tragic fate has occurred. However, Song Qingshi interpreted this as the event having already occurred, and was meant to save the character who had already suffered a tragic fate. This train of thought meant that his decision was a thousand miles off.

In the original book, Yue Wuhuan only appeared three times:

The first time was when the shou protagonist had just been sold to Golden Phoenix Manor. When he saw the unbearable scene of Yue Wuhuan being played with by the guests, his three views shattered.

The second time was when the protagonist's naive illusion of the future was destroyed and he was forced to accept his identity because of the ridicule and humiliating remarks of Yue Wuhuan.

The third time, Yue Wuhuan was taken out by Jin FeiRen on the Langgan stage to treat the guests and was accidentally torn to pieces by the demon tiger. Jin FeiRen concealed the actual explanation of the demon tiger's madness and treated it as a deliberately arranged game for the banquet. With this extreme fear, he shattered the last trace of the protagonist's dignity, making him completely surrender and become a plaything.

In short, Yue Wuhuan was a small supporting role with little substance, leaving the plot early, using his degeneracy to offset the beauty of the protagonist. His beauty was only like that of a beautiful flower that was about to wither. How can it be compared with the pure and clean flower bud that had not yet bloomed in the dawn?

This was a super simple multiple-choice question that every reader could figure out!

If the system was a living thing and watching over the exam being taken, it would be so angry that it would have come out and beaten that foolish Song Qingshi to death.

Scholar-Tyrant Song didn't know that he had drifted so far from the original goal, but he was still eagerly confident, trying to do his best and vowing to get a perfect score!

On the way back to the Valley of the Medicine King, Song Qingshi had recalled all the memories of his original body and integrated it with its massive knowledge of medicine and alchemy. There were rare and exotic herbs and miraculous medicines in the cultivation world. However, similar to traditional Chinese medicine, even if the medicine worked wonders, the science behind the effects of these medicines was still a mystery.

Modern medicine conducts systematic research on traditional Chinese medicine to find out the monarch-minister-auxiliary relationship within its components, extracted the useful ingredients in each concoction, and then developed medicine that was easier to take and had even better results.

A female scientist won the Nobel Prize for this, benefiting the world. Song Qingshi focused on modern medicine, leaped away from the traditional path of immortality, and quickly found new ideas for solving problems for many areas that the original body had failed to properly study. He used the Tiangong Pavilion to make modern scientific instrument substitutes, and then analyze the effective ingredients in the immortal medicines, purify them, research them, and even artificially synthesize them. . .

In Song Qingshi's mind, there were countless experimental schemes in an endless stream, and there were tens of thousands of books and inexhaustible medicinal materials in the Medicine King's Valley, as well as abundant research funds.

He was overjoyed, like a mouse that fell into a vat of rice. He wanted to kiss the system if he could.

Song Qingshi fully understood why the original body lived here, staying in such a cultivation paradise. He could live here for the rest of his life!

He could immerse himself in the ocean of intense studying and research every day. He could dedicate his life and soul to his favourite medical god. No one could send him back!

Song Qingshi looked at Yue Wuhuan in his arms. The more he looked at him, the more he loved him.

This was the big treasure that had given him everything! He would do everything he could to save him, just like his parents used to treat him before; indulged, spoiled, loved, and giving him all the good things he needed so that he can live a happy life like a prince in a fairy tale!

Song 'a father's love is like a mountain' Qingshi was full of ambition. He suppressed his excitement and immediately placed Yue Wuhuan in the side hall of his bedroom. He did everything by himself. First, he poured the elixir carefully with the crane-mouthed pot to re-invigorate the breath of life. Then he changed into white clothes, put on a homemade mask, and found a pair of extremely thin animal leather gloves. After he finished disinfecting the wounds, gently cut off the blood-soaked gauze and feather skirt on Yue Wuhuan's body with scissors, rinsed the wounds, and then sutured them with very fine silkworm thread. Then, he cut off the shackles and treated his ankle wounds.

Song Qingshi's movements were extremely gentle and quick, barely touching any skin, but Yue Wuhuan's body was extremely sensitive. He twitched slightly and groaned a few times before falling asleep again. Song Qingshi took the opportunity to take some blood samples for analysis, and also performed a full-body scan of him with his mental probe. He was a good-tempered person, but after seeing the disastrously ruined dantian and meridians in Yue Wuhuan's body, he couldn't help but curse darkly at those beasts. He scolded them repeatedly, thinking about how he was going to explain this situation to him once he woke up.

Song Qingshi was not good at communicating with strangers. He was able to make do when discussing his interests, but his thoughts often went blank when forced into small talk. For example, when everyone watched the popular men's group selection variety show together and argued over who was the male god?

He answered sincerely that it was Asclepius, the god of medicine. . .

Song Qing hasn't understood why everyone said he killed the conversation.

He thought hard for a long time and remembered that when his Lou Gerhig's hadn't been as advanced, he worked in a hospital for an internship. His senior brother knew that Song Qinshi was afraid of social interaction and would end up a stuttering mess when he tried to have conversations with his patients. He taught Song Qingshi: "Push down all of your feelings and act like a medical machine. First write down their case in detail and their treatment plan, recite it with a smile, and then end with a comforting sentence." Song Qingshi took this secret technique, practiced many times in front of the teacher, and, finally, he could talk to patients without fear.

A hospital is a place for treatment, just like how the Medicine King's Valley is a place for treatment. What's the difference?

After Song Qingshi had this epiphany, he replaced Yue Wuhuan’s bed sheets and bedding with the white ones commonly used in hospitals. He ordered the valley servant to make several sets of patient clothes, put them on by himself, and then tied roots on his wrist to represent the hospital information band. With a red wristband and a sign on the bed with "Special Care" and the instructions for how to care for him, Song Qingshi instantly felt calm in this makeshift hospital environment.

He wasn't comfortable with the type of care that the valley servantswere giving and took on nursing himself. He was careful and not afraid of getting tired. He wiped down Yue Wuhuan's body and washed his face, fed him medicine and water, and even replaced the bedding to deal with all kinds of filth.

When Yue Wuhuan woke up three days later, he was confused. He didn't know where he was. He stared at the white veil on the top of the bed in a daze for a long time. He finally realized that he was still alive and he hadn't been this relaxed in a long time.

He closed his eyes, faintly recalling the slight fragrance of medicine lingering from his dream and the hands that had gently released all the restraints for him. He took a deep breath. He didn't want to wake up and face the never-ending nightmare.

After who know's how long, Yue Wuhuan threw his eyes open, remembering where he had smelled the fragrance of the medicine. He slowly turned his head and looked at the round table next to him, but saw that Medicine Master Xianzun was attentively making changes to the cursive writings on the table. He was frowning, his expression serious, as if thinking about something bad. There was also a familiar spirit bead in the silver plate next to him, and it became obvious that he had been given to another guest to be played with.

Yue Wuhuan’s phoenix eyes shrank. The rumors of the perverse and evil deeds of the Medicine Master Xianzun appeared in his mind, but he was not afraid. Whether he was willing or unwilling meant nothing under the control of the spirit bead. Besides, his broken body was no longer worthy of being cherished. He took a deep breath, gritted his teeth and struggled to get out of bed, but a sharp pain came from his shoulder, which made him dizzy and he fell right back down. Song Qingshi never had any distractions when he was researching. He heard the movement and found that the patient was awake. He was afraid that Yue Wuhuan might have moved his body and reopened the wound. He quickly reprimanded him with a stern tone: "You, go to bed right away! You are not allowed to get off for ten days!"

This stern technique was a secret taught by the head nurse of the hospital. It had a good effect on treating patients who didn't follow the doctor's advice.

"Ten days?" Yue Wuhuan was stunned. He couldn't help but look at Song Qingshi up and down. The more he looked, the more he felt that his appearance was deceiving. He had been with guests for many years, and he was used to seeing many lustful scenes, but he never would've guessed that this person had such prowess in the bed. . .

Seeing that he hadn't gotten back on the bed, Song Qingshi put down his pen, walked over and picked him up with his own hands.

Yue Wuhuan remained unmoved, stretched out his hand and gently hugged his neck. Hot fingertips touched his cool skin, as smooth as cool jade, and the clear and clean scent of medicine wrapped around him gently like if he was in a dream. Yue Wuhuan couldn't help but shake for a moment. He chasticized his heart for still not knowing how to behave, then resumed his usual posture, and breathed out ambiguously: "I hope that Xianxun will take pity. . ."

"Don't worry, I will." Song Qingshi put him back on the bed carefully, then pulled the blanket up. He wrapped him up tightly, and solemnly told him, "The valley is wet and cold. You have a mortal body so be careful of the cold and stay under the blanket. Keep your hands and feet tucked in and don’t kick off the sheets."

Yue Wuhuan had never seen this trick in bed before and was at a bit of a loss.

"You;re a patient now. Let me tell you about your situation." Song Qingshi turned back to the table, picked up a stack of paper covered with words. He nervously pushed the non-existent glasses on the bridge of his nose, and read with a smile, formulating his tone. "The patient is Yue Wuhuan. There are three lacerations from the right shoulder to the chest, which are 18 cm, 14 cm and 12 cm long. The right shoulder bone is fractured, and the suprascapular artery has been ruptured. The right elbow has a skin contusion. The left and right wrists have skin tissue bruises, the left and right knees are bruised along with the left and right ankle tissue. The buttocks skin has soft tissue lacerations. There are signs of drug abuse in the body and potentially drug addiction. Do you understand?"

Yue Wuhuan only felt that his stiff smile must look increasingly forced. The more he thought about it, the crazier everything seemed. All he could do was nod his head and pretendto understand.

"Very good." Song Qingshi felt that what he said was both detailed and easy to understand, and began to recite the preliminary treatment plan. "Your dantian and meridians have been destroyed, and your body is seriously damaged. Your body is too fragile right now to use stronger medicine, so you cannot take Rejuvenation Pill, Gather Breathe and Disperse Pill, All Creation Pill or the Bone Growth Pill. You need to be treated with mortal medicine first, and then treated with the Six Meridian Rejuvanation medicated bath. Then you'll take the Rising Dragon Pill and Nine Revolution Blood Lotus Pill."

Yue Wuhuan finally understood what he was saying. These pills were common immortal medicines, and he had also taken it when he was seriously injured.

The All Creation Pill and Rising Dragon Pill were worth thousands, and he had heard that the poster of Jape Pearl Tower's Lord had used it for his own treasure.

He didn't know what the Six Meridian Rejuvanation medicated bath was, but the Nine Revolution Blood Lotus Pill was the treasure of the immortal world. It is made of ten thousand year-old blood lotuses. There were only nine in the world and only few know where their locations. He only knew that the master of Xuanji Palace had used it and ascended to Fen Shen; the lord of Fluttering Snow Fortress turned against his Daoist companion and killed him and his wife to win the treasure; one appeared in the Qizhen Pavilion auction, and it was won by the owner of the East Sea Langya Pavilion with hundreds of thousands of high-grade spirit stones. For some reason, Jin FeiRen wasn't able to participate in the auction. He always brought it up as one of the greatest regrets in his life.

If it were described in mortal terms, it would be like saving a beggar on the side of the road and saying that you would give him precious delicacies, golden houses, jade horses, and billions in wealth. FInally, you tell him you'll give him the fade seal of the country and all lands under the heavens. Only an idiot would believe these claims.

Yue Wuhuan laughed but his heart was cold. He basically confirmed that Song Qingshi was just toying with him.

He had also encountered many such sweet talkers, pretending to show compassion for some and pity for others. All he wanted, though, was to coax his slaves to play this game with him. He only lusted after his dirty body, in the end.

Song Qingshi finished off with some final closing words: "Don't worry, as long as you follow the doctor's advice and cooperate with the treatment, you'll be cured."

"Okay," Yue Wuhuan's phoenix eyes showed a bit of flattery, and he replied in a sultry voice: "This slave depend on Xianzun for everything. . ."

"I almost forgot." Song Qingshi looked into his eyes and suddenly remembered something. He put on the animal skin gloves again, picked up a luminous bead the size of a goose egg and placed it in a strange, long, tube-shape lampshade. Then he sat on the side of the bed, leaned over and looked at Yue Wuhuan. He gave him a serious warning: "This may be a little uncomfortable, please bear with me."

Yue Wuhuan smiled self-deprecatingly. He let the phoenix eyes show waves of desire, and he relaxed his body, waiting to be played with.

Song Qingshi stretched out his hand and opened his eyes, illuminating the inside of the eyes with the luminous bead. He carefully observed for a while, then whispered: "The problem of the lacrimal secretion system is not visible on the outside, so I still have to do a colored dye inspection..."

Yue Wuhuan: "???"

[glowstar826]

A Strange Offer (1)

a russian spy au one-shot for @cesar-hoe and @falle-ness

part 1 | part 2

Ray zoomed down the sidewalk, pumping his arms as he fought to maintain the distance between him and Ilya from their bus stop back to their houses. When the American had discovered that his new Russian friend was going to the same international school that he’d be starting at in the beginning of the third term, it would be an understatement to say Ray had been ecstatic. Not only that, but they shared all their classes together. It was a funny—and lucky—coincidence.

Learning how the Russian school system worked proved to be harder than Ray had thought it would be. Not only were there four semesters—or terms, as the people here called them—the way they grouped their grade levels was also different. The only thing that Ray was happy about was the fact that he’d get out of school at 15 instead of 18. That, Ray felt, would always be the deal-maker in anything regarding school.

“Yes! I did it again!” Ray cried as he nearly crashed onto his doorstep.

“I—can see that,” Ilya panted, tripping over himself to catch up to the older boy.

“Come on, have something to eat,” Ray said, opening the door and inviting Ilya inside. “Ma makes delicious hot cocoa. And besides, you said you were having some trouble with the algebra homework Mr. Inozemtsev assigned.”

“In addition to that, you’ll have to help me with understanding and interpreting the woman from The Yellow Wallpaper,” Ilya replied with knitted eyebrows. “I swear, I don’t know how Mr. Ostrovsky even likes that. All he seems to do is assign work. If only we had Ms. Leonova…”

“But we don’t,” Ray reminded as he unlocked the door and threw his stuff to the side, kicking off his boots.

“But she’s nice!” Ilya complained as he yanked his beanie off. “I think Mr. Ostrovsky hates me.”

“Who says?” Ray fired back, shrugging off his coat. “He told me once that he wishes you’d be more attentive in class because he sees the potential you have.”

“Of course he did,” the Russian boy grumbled. “You’re his favorite.”

Ray cocked his head to the side; this information was completely new and surprising to him.

“Am I? I highly doubt it.”

“Oh, good! You’re back!” the warm voice of Ray’s mother sang. She made her way over to the boys and gave each of them a loving kiss on his cheek. “There’s a man in the living room who wants to speak to you, Ray. Ilya, dear, I’ll get some hot cocoa on the stove. Ray tells me you love it, which I’m very glad of.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Reddington,” Ilya said with a kind smile just as Ray asked, “Ma? What’s going on?”

“I’m not so sure, to be honest with you,” Frances replied as she steered her son by the shoulders to the living room. “Also, your father called and said he’d be home by midnight, so you won’t see him.”

“Okay,” Ray mumbled dispassionately, secretly glad his father wouldn’t be returning before he went to sleep.

When they got to the living room, Ray became rooted under the threshold as he got a view of the man waiting for him. Sitting on the armchair by the TV, he had his elbows propped up on knees that looked like boulders. His shoulders stretched as wide as a crater, and his feet resembled those of a brachiosaurus. As for his head, a cube would have made an excellent replica. His buzz cut, ironically, was the only thing that seemed to be normal about this stranger.

“Afternoon,” the man rumbled in a deep Russian accent. “Your friend is Ilya Koslov, yes?”

The first question caught Ray totally off guard, for who was this man to know anything about his best friend? When Ray took too long to answer, the man stood up, and he made the boy want to cower as said boy was faced with the man’s impressive height.

“Bring your friend in here,” the man ordered, and Ray followed it without a second thought.

When he came back with a confused Ilya, the man said, “Come outside with me,” and gestured for the boys to follow him out.

They headed to the French doors by the sofa, and the man opened one of them to let Ray and Ilya through. Then, the trio made their way through Frances Reddington’s exquisite, almost stately garden. For every rose, there was a complimentary lavender, and the peonies and daisies that were sprinkled in between looked like the sugar one would lightly dust a sweetbread with.

In a path expertly carved out by Ray’s father, John, there was a bench shadowed by about a million little daisies. This is where the stranger decided the three of them would sit. He sat to one side, leaving room for Ray and Ilya to sit together. It made Ray think that the man was very, very aware of how intimidating he was. Why else would he be letting them sit with each other?

The afternoon sun shone brightly on the garden, reminding Ray that his family had, according to Ilya’s mother, the “prettiest, most beautiful yard on the street.” Ray’s mother had blushed slightly at that comment, clearly not used to getting such deep praise.

“My name is Andrei Smirnoff,” the stranger began, and Ray wondered whether that accent of his could go even deeper than how it was going now. “However, from this point forward, you will call me and refer to me as ‘Dom.’ You understand?”

“What’s all this about, if you don’t mind me asking?” Ray questioned with a bit of a side eye. If his mother had taught him anything, it was to trust no one. One would think that Colonel John Reddington would have taught his son this particular skill, but said colonel was rarely home enough to even ask how Ray’s day was. This was what led Ray to be on such close terms with his mother. While his father wasn’t around to even teach him how to shoot a rifle, she was teaching him the many ways he could defend himself with a simple pocketknife. Sometimes, Ray wished his parents would get a divorce so they wouldn’t have to move around so much. But his mother clearly loved his father to some extent, so he wouldn’t even think of it if it made his mother happy. And besides, his father never hurt his mother. He kept her happy, if not him.

“It’s a special school I want to recruit you to. A special school for people with special skills,” the stranger replied. He seemed to be trying very hard to be cryptic with his words, and Ray didn’t like it.

“Could you please specify what you mean by ‘special school’?” Ray demanded, crossing his arms. He wasn’t afraid of anybody. The only person he was afraid of was his mother when she got angry, which seldom occurred.

"Spitfire, hm?" sneered Smirnoff. "Won't help you when you have to keep quiet." Suddenly, a thoughtful look passed over Smirnoff's face. The right corner of his mouth turning up slightly, he estimated, "It could be useful for interrogation, however. You do have a way with words, Mr. Reddington."

"And me?" questioned Ilya hopefully. "Do I have any special abilities?"

"You wouldn't be sitting here if you didn't," Smirnoff remarked with a certain frankness that Ray found that he admired.

"You still haven't told us why you have come here," Ray informed with a measured tone. "What kind of school are you recruiting us to?"

At this, Smirnoff's thin lips stretched even more thinly into a smirk.

"If it is one thing I will reveal to you now, it is this. The school I'm recruiting you to isn't a typical boarding school where spoiled brats and expats' children go. It is a school where you earn your place. It is a school where you can change the world."

Ilya, ever the optimist, sat straighter in his seat. Ray, on the other hand remained cross-armed and skeptical.

As Ray was feeling a great amount of skepticism, he stood and walked to where he was standing in front of Smirnoff.

"Prove that we can change the world, then," he challenged, briefly glancing at his friend to make sure he was on the same boat. "Prove that what you're saying isn't bullshit. When that's done, I'll accept your offer. Do we have a deal?”

There was a glint—a mad glint, perhaps—that shone in Smirnoff’s eye as he processed Ray’s words. He seemed to contemplate said words deeply as Ray stood there, waiting for the strange Russian man to say something. Glancing again at Ilya, he saw that his friend’s mouth was slightly open in shock.

“I’m impressed,” Smirnoff murmured with quiet awe. He nodded in what seemed to be approval and confirmation at once. Taking Ray’s outstretched hand, he said, “Yes, Mr. Reddington. We do, indeed, have a deal.”

[neutron-stars-collision]

The Art of Inversion

Neil x Reader 

Chapter 2 - ‘You’re inverted, the world is not’

Previous Chapter - The Life Changing Offer 

Summary: Neil leads you into the world of inversion and sometimes it might be a little bit too much to take in...

Warnings: Curse words. I’ve decided to bring up rating to T (just to be safe).

Author’s Notes: This came out incredibly long so sorry for that. Hope you enjoy and feedback is always welcomed! Thanks to my fellow Neil enthusiasts for inspiration and hype, you know who you are <3 

You have been following Neil through the crowded streets of London City almost breathlessly. He was walking fast and the shoes you chose were far from comfortable. Neither of you have spoken a word for the last fifteen minutes and you began to wonder whether this was a good decision. After all you have agreed to be lead to some obscure destination by a perfect stranger and did not even know his full name. But before you could voice any of those concerns, he has stopped in front of a grey building with a rusted metal door. He held them open, motioning for you to come in. Inside there was a darkened stairwell and an antiquated lift. As the door closed with a creak the only thought you had was that you were about to be killed. You turned to Neil with an arched eyebrow. The flashing lightbulb above made the shadows on his face stand out and drowned the blue of his eyes. You could only see the outline of his strong jaw and cheekbones. He was looking at you as well with that thoughtful gaze again. After a beat he spoke:

“Don’t worry you aren’t going to be murdered” the hint of smile was playing upon his lips “I have parked the car here” he explained and continued down the staircase not waiting for you.

You rolled your eyes and followed. His enigmatic attitude was starting to annoy you. But then all you could do was hope that you will receive some answers soon.

You found him waiting by a black BMW series 7. He was looking at you expectantly as though he was anticipating your reaction.

What did they use to say about not getting into cars with strangers?, you shook your head slightly.

“I really don’t have a choice but to get in the car, do I?” you asked rhetorically while contemplating the absurdity of the situation you got yourself into.

He flashed you that sly grin again and just got into the driver seat.

Lord help me, you thought while joining on the passenger side.

You scanned the inside of the car with interest.

Tenet certainly isn’t on the budget, you noted while taking in the complex displays on the dashboard and the touch screen.

Neil started up the engine and soon you had left the underground parking. You tried to follow the road signs to guess where you were headed but quickly got lost amidst the different exits and turns. You were both silent. Sometimes you looked at Neil and would swear you felt him stare as well. Only once you have reached the highway, he asked:

“Do you have any questions?”

“Many” you glared at him, and he laughed at your deadpan expression “You haven’t told me your last name” you noticed after a few seconds of thinking.

“You have to be really interested in me if that’s the thing that bothers you most” he replied with a playful smile and you glared at him, stifling the sudden urge to punch him.

“You wish” you retorted under your breath.

Still, you felt your cheeks warm up with embarrassment and decided to stare intensely at the road ahead. Neil bit his lip and glanced at you though you could not see it. He was really enjoying teasing you, probably more than he could have expected.

***

You have arrived at your destination fifteen minutes later. Neil parked the car in front of an old warehouse with no signage or marked entries. You looked at him quizzically and he shrugged:

“Told you it’s a secret organisation” with that he got out of the car.

There were only three other cars parked in front of the building and the area was largely deserted. A high fence was separating the acres of land from the fields around and whoever was entering via the gate had to show ID to the small camera. Neil opened the door with that same ID card, and you followed closely, looking up into another micro camera that was guarding the entrance. He went straight to the desk that you assumed was some sort of reception area and after a small hesitation you joined him. There you came face to face with a smartly dressed woman seated behind the desk with a smile on her face:

“Good afternoon Neil” her grin got even wider as she stood up and beamed at him.

“Hello Anna” he replied with that charming smile on his lips.

God, she’s blushing, you noticed while looking at the receptionist. She has turned a lovely shade of pink and was trying to hide it by looking down at the keyboard. This was embarrassing. You had to admit that Neil is incredibly charming, suave and all but… seriously?! But your train of thought was interrupted by the man in question mentioning your name to Anna and adding: “Our new recruit”

You smiled politely at the woman and shook her hand.

“It’s nice to meet you” she beamed at you as well, but it was lacking that ‘looking at Neil’ spark.

You could not blame her for that. You could feel Neil’s gaze, quietly studying you and briefly wondered if he did that to all the new recruits. The silence has now stretched way too long for a normal social conversation, so you cleared your throat and answered:

“Mutually” you started praying for the awkward situation to end.

“I’ve got some papers for you to fill in” Anna handed you a small pile “It’s for the system and so that we can get you the ID card” you nodded and moved to the side, grateful for something to do.

You got absorbed in filling in all the obscure medical information they wanted. It was hard to suddenly recollect what vaccinations you have had in your late teens and whether you have already had chicken pox. Hearing some high-pitched giggles coming from the desk you glanced in that direction. Neil was leaning over the counter and ostensibly flirting with Anna if her flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes were anything to go by. You rolled your eyes for the second time today and went back to the form.

What you have not noticed was that Neil has glanced in your direction just as you have been expressing your annoyance. He smirked and went back to entertaining Anna whose blind devotion was quite cute in his eyes.

Once you have finished filling in the papers you quickly got up and joined the two ‘lovebirds’. Anna took the pile without a further word and you could only await Neil’s instructions. He threw one last sly smile towards her and focused all of his attention on you:

“So are you ready to see what we are dealing with here?” the playful sparks contradicted the serious tone he spoke with.

“I’ve got nothing better to do” you flashed him your cheekiest smile and was pleased to see him slightly surprised.

Well two can play the game…

***

He led you through the maze of corridors into a small laboratory. Although surprisingly it also had a shooting station and a cabinet full of artillery and arms. Neil headed straight for the case and took out an ordinary looking Glock. He handed you the gun and you automatically checked the magazine to find it empty. Neil only motioned for you to join him by the shooting station.

“Just aim and pull the trigger” he instructed, and you glared at him.

“With an empty magazine?”

“Yes exactly”

You shrugged and adjusted your stance, constantly feeling his gaze boring into you. Letting out a long exhalation to focus, you aimed the gun and pressed the trigger. What came next took you completely by surprise. The moment you released the trigger, a bullet flew into the barrel with a little more force than you were used to, and you stumbled, nearly falling into Neil. He caught you with one hand on your arm and grinned, seeing the dumbfounded look on your face.

“Wasn’t expecting that, huh?” he let go of you after taking one last look at your expression and took the gun back “That was an inverted bullet” he explained “So you catch it instead of firing”

That was a lot to take in. You slowly nodded, trying to process it all.

“Are you ready for inversion?” he asked after giving you space to think for a short while.

“Nope” you grinned “But lead the way”

He stared at you for a little longer then, scanning your face in search of something. But this time you stared right back, facing him with determination. After thirty seconds, which felt like much longer, he turned away and opened a heavy door on the right side of the laboratory’s wall. You followed, not knowing what to expect at all. What you did not anticipate was to enter a darkened room with the lights tinted red, where one of the walls had a massive glass window inserted into it. On the other side of the glass you could see a very similar room but with the light tinted blue. At the opposite end from where you came in there was a massive barrel-shaped metal structure with a doorway and complex mechanisms around it. You noticed that there was the exact same thing on the other side of the room.

“Any questions?” Neil was casually leaning on the wall with his hands in the pockets, observing you with a small smile.

“What’s that?” you pointed at the machine.

“That’s the turnstile. We use it to get inverted” he pushed himself upright and walked over towards you “They’ll explain how it works in technical sense during the training. But I can show you the practical side. Ready?” he run hand through his hair, ruffling it in process.

“More than ever” you took another deep breath of the day.

“Okay, so we’ll go through the turnstile once we can see ourselves entering it on the other side of the proving window” he gestured towards the glass panel.

You noticed with a start that in the other room you could see yourself and Neil. They were moving backwards. As they entered the turnstile on the blue side, Neil quickly took your hand and pulled you inside the machine. You felt the machine screech with the years of use and after a few seconds you were being led out of it and into the blue side of the room. Before you could process what just happened, Neil let go of your hand and continued his explanation:

“The air here is sealed but once we go outside you’ll have to wear an oxygen mask because your lung membranes are now inverted”

You nodded and looked at the other side and the scene playing out there. One that just happened for you mere minutes ago. You started feeling a bit dizzy by trying to understand but attempted to focus on Neil’s briefing:

“They’ll tell you all this in training but normally we wear those protective suits to avoid accidentally touching our forward selves”

“What happens if we do?”

“Annihilation” he winked, and you could only stare in shock.

“Don’t worry about that for now though” he reassured while moving towards the rack filled with respirators and hazard suits.

He handed you a mask with a small oxygen tank attached and you put it on, while he continued:

“Once we exit the airlock, you’ll feel a bit weird at first. You’ll have wind at your back and the gravity will appear reversed for the world around you. But we’ll be within a restricted area, so you’ll be safe” he put on the mask and started to open the door “If at any point you stop feeling alright, let me know okay?” he looked at you intently and you got surprised by seriousness of his gaze.

You just nodded and tried to prepare for what was about to happen. As the airlock opened and you stepped outside, you scanned the scene. The area you have entered was separated from the outside world with a tall fence and was very much like a small training zone with sparring equipment and shooting range. Carefully you took a few steps forwards and suddenly felt a gust of strong wind hit you on the back with force. You stumbled and felt Neil look at you worriedly. You took a deep breath, trying to remain calm despite feeling the familiar chill of anxiety creeping in. Usually in those moments you would try to focus on something mundane so you looked up at the sky, hoping that it would do the job. The moment you looked up, a pigeon flew by, cooing and diving near the fence. Only it was inverted for the way you perceived it. Panicked, you looked at the street visible on the horizon. The cars were running backwards too. That was enough to make the anxiety kick in.

Shit… you gasped and tried to take a deep breath but found that you could not. The respirator made you feel as though you were beginning to suffocate. Every breath was not enough. It felt as though you were stuck in an airtight container, slowly losing the precious oxygen. You turned away from Neil, hoping he won’t notice your distress. You started to hyperventilate with increasing speed. Suddenly you felt Neil’s hand touch your arm, trying to make you face him. You did not want him to see you like that, so you shook it off:

“I’m fine” your voice came out breathless.

You heard him huff out a few strong curse words before he forcefully made you face him.

“No you’re not. You’re hyperventilating” he glanced at the small barometer on your oxygen tank and frowned “Okay, look at me”

Grudgingly you forced yourself to meet his gaze, aware of your tear stained cheeks and ruined mascara. His blue eyes were steady, focused on you. He took one of your hands and placed it on his chest. Your eyes widened in slight confusion, but your mind was too busy panicking to think right now.

“You have to slow down so breathe with me” his voice was soothing; the cockiness was nowhere to be found.

He began to inhale slowly, and you tried to match his tempo while forcing yourself to calm down the racing thoughts. After a few deep breaths synced up this way you felt the wave of anxiety die down. Neil was still looking at you with concern.

“Think I’m better now” you muttered, feeling embarrassed at the scene you just made “Sorry, didn’t know it will be that bad…” you admitted shyly.

With a start you realised you still had your hand placed over his heart and that Neil was keeping it in place, looking at you with an unreadable expression. When you awkwardly tugged at your hand, he released it and asked:

“You really don’t like to ask for help, do you?”

“Not really, no” you smiled slightly, and he mirrored your expression.

Your eyes found his again and you both froze, unable to look away. After another minute, which once again felt much longer, you heard someone clear their throat awkwardly. There was someone else in the training zone. That sobered you up. You quickly took a step away from Neil and glanced at the newcomer, feigning calm and composure. It was a young man with a very anxious expression on his face. You briefly wondered how long he stood there.

“Patrick” Neil greeted him with a handshake “Everything alright?”

“Yeah” Patrick looked in your direction quickly “They need you for a mission”

“Now?”

Patrick just nodded. Neil walked back to you:

“Apologies but as you see I’m needed” he squeezed your hand quickly and you just gaped at him.

Only once he started walking back into the building, did you sober up:

“And you’re just going to leave me here?! I’m bloody inverted!” you shouted, ignoring the terrified look on Patrick’s face.

“Well… yes” Neil shrugged and sent you that annoying roguish grin “Patrick here can help you with the turnstile. I’m sure you two will manage”

You really wanted to punch him.

“Oh and your training begins tomorrow” he added “Anna will tell you the details” and with that he was gone.

Fucking hell… you groaned and looked at Patrick who stared at the ground, clearly hoping that the earth would consume him any second now.

You felt very tired.

[yellowocaballero]

written in 2 hours for $5

my friend: so, in your story, you say that Jon went to see a doctor who DIDN’T diagnose him with anything, despite him thinking all of his employees were trying to kill him...I will give you $5 to write this conversation

me: what’s your venmo.

under a readmore as to not traumatize Bukowski with sloppy depictions of therapy.

                Okay, that ordeal was over with. Jon hated health services. He never went to the doctor if he could help it. It was easy to avoid it, since Elias gave as little healthcare as physically possible, and Jon was of the personal opinion that he never got sick, anyway. Sickness was a state of mind, and Jon’s mind was not in that state. What was a cold but your body temporarily acting funny before going back to normal? Absolutely nothing, no matter what Martin wrung his hands and insisted about. If Jon got the flu, he threw up in the toilet and then went back to work. RIP to the influenza virus but he was different.

                Jon sat anxiously in the waiting room of the counseling clinic, struggling to recall if his mother was depressed or not.

                Like, Jon would personally be very depressed, if he had given birth to Jon. He hesitantly wrote it in, then scratched it out, then scowled at the very nuclear family centric medical history section of the patient chart, then went through the usual rigamarole of feeling self-pity over being an orphan. Finally, he settled on just writing in a big question mark in the mother and father sections. He wrote into the side that his Grandfather and two of his Uncles had schizophrenia, which had to be useful in some sort of way.

                Okay, that ordeal was over with. Jon hated health services. He never went to the doctor if he could help it. It was easy to avoid it, since Elias gave as little healthcare as physically possible, and Jon was of the personal opinion that he never got sick, anyway. Sickness was a state of mind, and Jon’s mind was not in that state. What was a cold but your body temporarily acting funny before going back to normal? Absolutely nothing, no matter what Martin wrung his hands and insisted about. If Jon got the flu, he threw up in the toilet and then went back to work. RIP to the influenza virus but he was different.

                The waiting room for the clinic wasn’t empty, even if that would have made Jon feel better. A tired looking Hispanic woman clutching her purse sat on one couch, an elderly man clutching a cane sitting in an armchair with his wife browsing a magazine beside him. Boring, banal, bothersome. Jon wasn’t like these losers. He wasn’t a weak-willed person who…accused all of his coworkers of murder plots…to the extent where one of his subordinates threatened him into going to a therapist. That hadn’t happened. To him.

                For the record, it wouldn’t have worked if Martin hadn’t been so good at disguising what a manipulative bastard he was. Jon didn’t know people could make their eyes that big. Or that people could be so talented at gathering evidence of workplace harassment, enough that even Elias would be forced to exact some sort of disciplinary action against him. Had Martin always been so terrifying? His ranking on the ‘Possibly Wants To Kill Me’ scale jumped a few notches, but was forced to drop down a few notches due to Jon admitting that someone who wanted to kill him probably wouldn’t blackmail him into therapy.

                Probably.

                He briefly detailed his diagnostic history (none), detailed his list of previous surgeries and health conditions (none, save the anemia in uni), and briefly gave a list of childhood trauma (none that anyone would believe, although he found himself hesitantly writing down ‘Foster system, parental incarceration, orphaned’, as if that was a real trauma or something instead of stuff that just happened to him that had no effect on his brain whatsoever).

                He finally got to the difficult section, the one that always tripped him up and made him sweat. He breezed through the demo questions (Black, male last time he checked, younger than he looked) but stared for an uncomfortably long time at the sexuality questions. His pen hovered over heterosexual, but his Mental Georgie (meaner than the actual Georgie) yelled at him until his pen hovered over bisexual instead. But that wasn’t quite right either, was it? Bad memories of scrolling desperately and shamefully through AVEN at 2am last year flashed through his mind, but asexual wasn’t on the list. He marked in bisexual, although he didn’t think it counted if he’d never had any…relations with male presenting people, although it didn’t quite fit.

                Under alcohol use he very proudly put none, feeling both smug and embarrassed over being smug over it. Under drug use he also was proud to put none. Then it asked for his history and, like, whatever. He hated this list. It sucked. Jon didn’t like admitting to the coke he only did three times. Or was it four? That he could remember.

                Under the ‘Have you ever been hospitalized’ question he put yes, then he remembered that they had technically diagnosed him with alcoholism and depression so he had to go back and put that down in his diagnoses, then he had to put down that he had attempted suicide a few times. Jon felt uncomfortable about nameless strangers knowing this, when he had never told anybody and had never been planning on it. It was a secret he would take to his grave, but he was telling this piece of paper, apparently. Hopefully nobody looked at this.

                Under the section for ‘why he came in’, Jon decided honestly was the best policy. He wrote down carefully, in precise letters, ‘I do not need to come in but my subordinate (who may be plotting murder against me) blackmailed me into it’. There. Honesty was the best policy.

                Finally the accursed intake form was over, Jon was able to hand it to the nurse he suddenly imagined looked very judgmental, and he was able to flip aimlessly through the three year old magazines on the glass tabletop flanking a piece of calming abstract art. He would never admit it to literally anybody in his life, but he enjoyed the voyeurism of celebrity gossip. He loved learning things about people that were supposed to be private, that nobody was supposed to know. It wasn’t a real secret if he learned it off TMZ, but it felt like one, and that was good enough. It was none of his business who was dating who or who had cheated on who, but that was part of the fun. Jon’s thirst for knowledge was absolute. But, still, nobody could ever know about this. Georgie had laughed at him for a week when she found out.

                Still, the magazine was wrong. The pop star wasn’t cheating on her boyfriend with her bodyguard. She was cheating on her boyfriend with her college roommate. Jon didn’t remember exactly where he had read it, but he knew it was true. Must have caught it on a reddit thread or something. Jon snorted. They should really polish up on their fact checking.

                After what felt like hours, but in fact was twenty-two minutes and forty seconds exactly, the nurse called Jon in. They took his height (still too tall), took his weight (ugh….), and took his blood pressure, which seemed to alarm the nurse, who asked him if he had a family history of hypertension. He just explained that his job was very high stress.

                “Ah,” the nurse said, and made a note on his clipboard.

                “The previous holder of my position was murdered,” Jon said helpfully, “and I think one of my employees did it. Either that or my boss. That, or various supernatural entities, but generally I’ve been doing a pretty good job of holding those off.”

                “That’s so interesting,” the nurse said, making another note on the clipboard.

                Then he was directed into the actual therapist’s office. Not his therapist, or at least he didn’t think so – the way they explained it to him, and the way the twenty internet sites he’d compulsively researched said it worked, was that he would get an intake with a trainee, who would then refer him to a therapist that worked for him in the building. It made sense, although very little about this entire process really did. Jon hated doctors. What were therapists, but doctors who made less sense, and did not respect science?

                The intake therapist’s office was overly calming. There was an incense diffuser in the corner, a tea station set up in another corner, and a comfortable looking couch facing a chair. There was a coffee table in the center filled with fidget toys and candy, along with some stuffed animals and other comfort items with some books, and Jon awkwardly shook the hand of the young woman who opened the door for him and sat down on the far corner of the couch.

                She introduced herself as Angela and had a bright white smile. Jon wondered if she had ever killed anybody. Her hair was glossy and black, she seemed to be Hispanic or thereabouts, and exuded a trustworthy and competent yet friendly air. Jon did not trust her.

                “So, Jon,” Angela said, once they both settled down. “I’m just going to give you a quick run-down of this process. I’ll interview you based on your intake form, we’ll come up with a case formulation, and I’ll refer you to a therapist with our clinic who can help you out. You indicated that this is your first time seeing a counselor?”

                “Uh, yes.” Jon clasped his hands, then his knees, then sat up very straight, then slouched. He now understood why the fidget toys were there. “But I really don’t want to see a therapist. I just told someone I’d come in here, so here I am. I can leave right after this.”

                “Who asked you to come in?”

                “Martin. Uh. My employee.”

                She made a note in her notebook. “Does he only know you from work?”

                “Yes.”

                “So your employees have been noticing some behavior from you at work that lead them to ask you to come?” Angela asked delicately.

                “Uh. Yeah.”

                “What kind of behavior?”

                Well, sure, make him think about it. Jon clenched his trousers a little. “I’ve been…well, according to Tim, I’ve been stalking them a bit. Which, perhaps, from a certain point of view, I’m willing to admit to. Also going through their desks. Some verbal accusations. Apparently, I’ve been difficult to work with lately.”

                Scribble scribble scribble. “What sort of accusations?”

                “Someone’s trying to kill me,” Jon said firmly. “I’m just trying to find out who. I’m exploring every option. Nobody is above suspicion. I know it seems…I know it doesn’t seem very usual, but that’s the situation.”

                “Have you talked to the police?”

                God, has he ever. “They’re willing to collaborate with me, but there’s only so much they can do,” Jon said seriously. Even if they had confidentiality, which they had explained to him as he came in, he could hardly admit to Basira doing something illegal for him. “But we are working on it together. At least some officers on the force take murder investigations seriously.”

                “Alright. If you don’t mind, I’m going to refer back to some questions that we asked you on the sheet. Just a little more detail on them.” Angela looked down at what he had to assume was a print-out of his answers on the intake questionnaire. “It says here that you have a family history of schizophrenia?”

                “Yeah,” Jon said blankly, “what does that have to do with anything?”

                She looked further down the list. “And…a history of alcoholism and drug abuse?”

                “Yes, technically.”

                “Alright.” She leaned backwards and opened a file cabinet, rifling through it before withdrawing a piece of paper and passing it to Jon. Jon hesitantly took it, scanning the paper. “Can you fill this out for me quickly, please?”

                Jon read the questions.

                Do you ever hear or see things that others cannot?

                Well, yes, Jon experienced many supernatural phenomena that others could not perceive. He checked off yes.

                Do you ever struggle to trust that what you are thinking is real?

                Frequently. He just knew his mind was being manipulated by the mysterious Watcher. Plus there was that business with Sasha. Something’s off about her.

                Do you ever get the sense that others are controlling your thoughts and emotions?

                That occurred in dozens of Statements, plus his own life. Yes.

                Do you struggle to keep up with daily living tasks?

                Tim did tell him that he didn’t shower enough…

                Do you feel that you have powers that others cannot understand or appreciate?

                Jon thought blankly of all those times that he asked people questions and they almost…had to answer. He checked yes for that too.

                Etc, etc, etc.

                Jon looked up from this test. “Are you under the impression I’m schizophrenic?”

                “I can’t make a diagnosis yet,” the therapist said delicately. “Why don’t we talk after you finish the screening.”

                Jon silently passed it back to her, after checking yes on almost everything. She scanned it quickly.

                “Hm.”

                “Look,” Jon said awkwardly, knowing that this probably looked bad, “I know that I may come off as a paranoid lunatic, but the supernatural is out there and is targeting me personally. I think I may work for it, honestly? Do you ever feel like an accountant for evil in your day to day life, or is that just me?” Jon paused a beat, and found that his hands were shaking. He was scared. Why was he scared? “I always feel something watching me. Something – something in the walls. I’m sitting at my desk, it’s late at night, and nobody’s around, but sometimes when I do my work…I feel something looking over my shoulder. It hates me. It wants to hurt me. I don’t know why I know it, I just do. Something invisible in the walls is looking at me, and nobody believes me when I say it’s there but I know it is.” He found himself speaking faster, almost as if he was begging her to understand. “When you look at a – at this couch, you know it’s there, right? How would you feel if everybody started telling you that it wasn’t there? That what your eyes and ears and body was telling you was fake? You’d feel like it was everybody else who was crazy, not you. Even if your eyes were closed, if you reached out your hand you could feel it. No matter what you might tell yourself, or what other people might tell you, it’s real. It’s there. You can’t deny it. I’m not crazy. It’s there. Something is watching me. You don’t – you don’t have to believe me. But I’m right. And you’re wrong, if you think it’s not.”

                Angela stared at him.

                Then she stood up, clutching her mobile. Jon realized for the first time that it was ringing. “I’ll be right back.”

                She left the room, holding the phone to her ear. Jon felt it was somewhat unprofessional for a therapist to walk out in the middle of a session for a phone call. Maybe it was important? Her husband was in the hospital or something? It was none of his business.

                Jon tapped his toes. Stared at the wall. There was a poster with a sloth on it that said ‘Hang In There!’. He was hanging in there, all right.

                He wondered if he was crazy. If it even mattered.

                Jon had always had nobody but himself to rely on. Well, maybe Georgie, once upon a time, but he had burned that bridge. At the end of the day, it had always been him. In that gutter where he had almost drowned in his own vomit, it had just been him.

                If he couldn’t trust his own mind, who could he trust? If even his own faculties left him, he had nothing. No friends, no family, no support. Just him. If Jon lost his mind, if he went completely crazy, then there was nobody to pick up the pieces ever again. For the first time since coming in, Jon found himself scared. Would he have to take medication? Would it make him dumb? Jon would rather be crazy then dumb.

                The door opened, and Angela returned. But there was something just a little different about her, something Jon picked up immediately. Her eyes were – almost glassy, almost not present. She had been such an attentive, active listener before, but now she seemed far away. Her gait was a little stiffer than it had been previously.

                “Bad news?” Jon breached awkwardly.

                “Nothing to worry about,” Angela smiled. But it didn’t reach her eyes. How strange. She sat back down in her chair, posture perfect and prim. “Well, I took a look at your sheet, and I have some good news for you.”

                “You – you do?” Jon asked, thrown off. Doctors never had good news for him. They always seemed to think he was a medical freak of nature who was alive only through an act of spite against god.

                “Of course. You don’t seem to have any kind of mental illness. Honestly, I just think your problem is that you’re stressed at work.”

                “I – so you don’t think I’m schizophrenic? Despite answering yes to almost every question on that test? And having family members with schizophrenia? And being a black male in my late twenties, the highest risk group?”

                “Yes.” Angela smiled prettily at him. “I think it’s just a matter of adjustment. You’re a transitionary phase in your life, Jon. You’re moving from one role to another. I think all you have to do is accept your new role in life, and your problems will sort themselves out.”

                “I – yes. Yes, of course.” It was like a huge weight had been taken off his chest. Jon felt so relieved. Nothing was wrong with him. His mind was still his own. He wasn’t crazy! “You’re right. I’m just stressed. Thank you so much, doctor. I feel a lot better about this now. I knew Martin was just overreacting.”

                “Martin’s always overreacting!” Angela laughed. She stood up from her chair, clearly signifying the interview was over despite him only being there for less than ten minutes. “Have a great day, Jon. You deserve it.”

                “Thanks, doctor. I promise I’ll work on – just calming down a bit. Wow. What a relief.” Jon stood up too, wiping his sweaty palms on his trousers before shaking her hand. “I knew I wasn’t crazy.”

                “What’s crazy,” Angela said, “but a state of mind? The world is already so bizarre and usual, Jon, it’s strangest to be sane.”

                “I – okay?”

                Jon left the doctor’s appointment feeling very good about everything. Maybe the doctor’s had been a good idea. He would have to thank Martin.

                Wow. Now that was a crazy thought. Thanking Martin! Hah!

                Jon went home, feeling very good about his life and his trajectory in it.

                For the very last time.

[k-gorman8]

So I had to write an essay about a hero in my English class. I had reached the point where I didn’t care anymore so I started it off as a joke. Very quickly I realized I actually truly enjoyed the assignment. Enjoy :)

Hero Essay

“In a world. . .

With no bravery. . . 

There is only one who can save us. . .”

*queue dramatic music*

“BRAVEMAN! The man who is brave!”

The TV screen illuminated the dark room. My sister, sitting on the couch with a book in hand, scoffs at me.

“You’re watching Braveman again? You know that’s not real. No one could ever be like that. ‘Bravery’ or whatever isn’t real.”

“It’s a good movie,” I say. “Dad likes it.”

“Yeah well I think it’s stupid,” she rolls her eyes. “Why don’t you read something? Something real? Like the encyclopedias. You haven’t even gotten to the letter K yet.”

I shake my head and turn back to the screen. I watch as Braveman speaks in front of a group of people and talks to strangers he doesn’t know. The thought of speaking to someone outside of my family is. . . horrifying. How does someone do that? Shaking someone’s hand? Being where everyone can see you? I wished and longed to have his powers. I glanced back at my sister. She was right. Bravery isn’t real. There’s no way I could be brave. 

I woke up curled up on the floor. The credits to Braveman were scrolling on the TV. I must have fallen asleep. I looked back at the couch. It was empty. 

“Must’ve gone to bed,” I mumbled to myself. “I should do the same.” I started to turn off the TV when I accidentally hit the channel button, redirecting me to the new channel. I started to slide my hand to the correct button when something caught my attention.

“We have decided it would be best for us as a community if we returned to traditions from before the epidemic of 2020.” My eyes widened. Was this really what I was hearing? I turned it up to be sure. The computer-reporter began again, “Beginning the first of August, our community will go back to having in-person schooling and work programs, and social interaction will be restored.”

I felt my jaw drop. 2020? That was the year my grandma was born! I thought. We’re going back to a lifestyle from over 70 years ago? I ran to my parents room. 

“Mom! Dad! Check out the news!” I yelled as I burst into their room and woke them up. ���Turn on the TV! Turn it on!”

“Gosh, Olivia!” My mom said.  “You almost scared the life out of me!” She sat up and rubbed her eyes. “What’s so important?” I suddenly realized how rude I had been.

 “I’m sorry,” I started to back out of the room. “Maybe it’s not that important.” My dad grabbed the remote and clicked on the TV. The news was still going.

“There have been many studies over the past 10-15 years about the pros and cons of social interaction. Although keeping to yourself was once very needed to prevent the spread of a deadly virus, our recent studies have shown that being around people is crucial for healthy development of the brain.” 

“What is this?” my mom interrupted. “Are we supposed to believe -”

“Shh.” my dad quieted her. He had a very serious look on his face.

“What do you mean shh? I have-”

“Shhh!” he insisted. My mom stared at him in disbelief. I watched as his face changed from serious and confused to shocked and surprised. 

“Ever since 2020, our medication has provided our brains the stimulation we need, but recent studies have shown that actual social interaction is far more effective and will save millions of dollars every year.” 

I think of the pill that our entire family takes everyday. It’s always been so routine, I’ve never questioned it. 

“It’s good for your brain.” I recall my dad telling me once. “Take it every morning and you’ll be good to go.” That was always enough of an explanation for me. I never knew it was to replace something we were lacking. 

As my mom began to realize what was going on, she began to look terrified. My dad also looked scared. But for some reason, I wasn’t scared. I felt. . . excited? I didn’t know what I was feeling. It wasn’t fear. It wasn’t bad at all. It was something I had never felt before. . .

It has been 3 months since I saw the news about returning to an old lifestyle. 4 days until the first of August. Pretty much everything on TV has been about this lifestyle. Real people have been on TV recently instead of the typical computer-voice. They stutter and their hands shake. I can’t imagine how scary being in front of a camera would be, nonetheless one where the entire country - maybe the entire world - sees you. 

We have been given study materials on the old lifestyle. It’s mostly made up of pictures from old, traditional classrooms where there were over 20 students in one room at once. That blew my mind. The most people I’ve ever been in a room with at once is 5. And that’s a lot for someone my age. There were pictures of the once-busy streets of New York, the area flooded with cars and people. I knew life was different 70 years ago, but I had never known about any of this. The only history we had been taught was that there was a disease that led to a safer community where everyone stayed at home. That’s all that I’ve ever known. That’s how I grew up. That’s how my parents grew up. And that’s how their parents grew up. My deceased grandpa, who was 8 in 2020, was the last one in my family that could’ve remembered anything from the old lifestyle, but he’s gone.

As soon as it was decided to stay indoors, anything about being out of our houses was taken out of the education system in order to make sure everyone lived indoors. Food and medication was delivered to houses. Everyone worked from home. Now, the people who once wrote at-home curriculum would become teachers. Those who helped develop medications and prepared diets designed specifically for every person would become doctors. Anyone who was still in school would remain a student, but attend school with everyone else.

I was going into my junior year and my sister was going into her senior year. She was terrified. She broke down in tears and my parents had to order a special medication to calm her down. I, however, was not scared. I didn’t know what I was. As I thought this over, the movie Braveman flashed through my head. Brave? I thought. Am I. . . brave? I thought of the feeling inside of me. I wanted to go to school. I was excited to see the streets filled with people. But I remembered what my sister told me. No. I told myself. I can’t be brave. Brave isn’t real.

I woke up to the sun shining through my window. The blinds used to always be closed, but I’ve been keeping them open to get used to the sunlight. It was bright and warm, it felt unnatural. . . even though it was the only natural light there was. I put on the new clothing that had been delivered to my house yesterday morning. Jeans, tall black socks, a blue polo shirt, and a new pair of shoes. My sister had a similar outfit, but a yellow shirt. There was also a care-package sent for all of us. On the outside of the box, there was a list that read:

Contents:

1 girl’s junior school outfit - Olivia

1 girl’s senior school outfit - Chelsea

2 backpacks (includes laptop, notebook, and 2 pencils each)

1 women's work attire - Victoria

1 men’s work attire - Ben

4 nametags - Ben, Victoria, Chelsea, Olivia

4 personal cell phone

4 instruction guides

4 personal sunscreen bottles - prolonged sun exposure may cause irritation. Please apply every 2 hours to avoid sunburn

1 anxiety pill - Chelsea

4 medication pills - THIS IS YOUR LAST DOSAGE

I got dressed and applied the sunscreen. Whatever a sunburn was did not sound pleasing. The sunscreen was oily and greasy but it smelled nice. I dropped the pill into my palm and took a deep breath. For some reason knowing this was the last one was. . . relieving, almost. I had a good feeling about today. I popped my head back and swallowed it, feeling it as it made its way down my throat. 

“The bus is here!” my mom shouted from across the house. I slid the sunscreen into my pocket, grabbed my instruction book and tossed it in my bag, threw the bag over my shoulders, and ran to the door. My sister came out of her room with a worried expression on her face. I stopped and turned around towards her. 

“Hey, it’ll be okay.” I reassured her. She tried to smile at me, but I could tell she was still upset. I skipped through the door and smiled big at my dad. 

“Excited?” he asked.

“Yeah!” I said quickly, maybe a little too quickly based on the shocked expression on his face.

“Well that’s good!” he said and he straightened his tie. “Let’s hope today goes well. . .” I could hear the uncertainty in his voice. 

I got to the door of the bus and it slid open. I took a deep breath and stepped on, my dad trailing shortly behind me. There were 2 other families on the bus. I swallowed deep and I walked through the aisle, glancing at the other people on the bus. There was another girl with a blue shirt on and I smiled at her. She looked at the ground. I thought back to the instruction book. Seat B3. I remembered. I found it, sat down quickly, and eagerly tapped my foot, waiting for the bus to move. When the rest of my family was seated, we began to roll forward. My sister had the window seat, but she slumped her head down and looked at her feet. I looked past her to see the amazing outside world, the sun shining through the tinted glass.

“Passengers,” the auto-driver’s robotic voice said, “welcome to your first day of our social lifestyle. If at any point you need help, please address your handbook or simply select the blue application on your new cell phones.”

I remembered my cell phone in my pocket. My family’s contact information accessible in the yellow application, my personal information in the red application, and help from a government official in the blue application. I glanced over at my mom who was worryingly flipping through her instruction book. My dad was looking out the window like I was, with a pleasant expression on his face. My sister was still slumped in her seat, looking at her shoes. She looked up at me and I smiled at her. I watched her close her eyes, take a deep breath, and smile at me too, this time more genuine. 

The bus came to a slow stop.

“Students attending freshman, sophomore, junior, and senior year, this is your destination.”

I stood up excitedly and looked at my parents. My mom cracked a wry smile at me and my dad waved me goodbye. I smiled big and walked to the front of the bus, my sister slowly trailing behind me, along with the rest of the nervous children about to go to school. 

I stepped off the steps of the bus and looked up at the large building in front of me. GRANDBURY HIGH SCHOOL was carved into the front of the large, stone entrance. The students gathering in a group behind me were also gazing at the building we had never seen before. I glanced at the girl with the blue shirt and read her name tag. “REBECCA JONES”, it read. Rebecca. I thought. I’m gonna try to be friends with Rebecca. I decided. She realized I was looking at her so I tried smiling at her again. Slowly, a small smile formed on her face. She began to walk forward, so I followed. 

There were kiosks set up for us to check in. I walked up to one and scanned my nametag. It buffered for a second then displayed a message. WELCOME, OLIVIA BARREN. PLEASE REPORT TO ROOM 127 - ENGLISH. A map showed the school hallways, with a green line leading me down the hallway to the right. The phone in my pocket began to vibrate, so I pulled it out of my pocket. The screen lit up with the map displaying on the kiosk. I followed the green line displayed on my phone until I reached room 127. 

I walked into the room. There were already a few students sitting in their seats. We were all wearing a blue shirt, except for one lady at the front of the room who was wearing a maroon shirt. Must be the teacher. I thought to myself. I walked through the aisles of desks until I found my name. OLIVIA B it read on the tiny screen on the corner of the desk. I hung my backpack on the hook on the back of the chair, and sat down, then remembered what I had read in the instruction book. I scanned my name tag. The screen glowed green, indicating I had been marked as present.

The room began to fill up, but it remained silent. Everyone kept their eyes low, even the teacher. I watched Rebecca walk in, but she didn’t see me.  When everyone’s desks had green glowing where their names were, the teacher stood at the center of the front of the room and cleared her throat. 

“Hello, class.” she was sweating and her hands were shaky, but she took a deep breath and continued. “Uhh...I am Ms.Greene.” I felt like chuckling at her silly color name, but I refrained. “I will be teaching english. This will be the first class you will report to every morning.” She paused and collected her thoughts. She cleared her throat again. “Is, uh, is there anyone who would like to introduce themselves?”

Somehow the silence became even quieter. Everyone was stiff in their seats, staring at their desks. The only thing you could hear was the tapping of my foot, which was rapidly speeding up. Everyone sat there for what seemed like forever. Ms.Greene stared at her feet and waited for anything to happen.

The feeling inside of me that I had been feeling all day grew even larger. Scenes from Braveman flashed in my head. Talking in front of people. Shaking hands. Being brave. This. I thought, but it felt more like I was screaming in my head. This is it. This is your chance. Your chance to be brave. I took a deep breath and I clutched the edge of my desk. What are you waiting for? I continued to hold still. What are you waiting for?!

Suddenly, I stood up. The entire class stared at me. My teacher looked startled and terrified. Rebecca looked at me with her mouth agape. The kid next to me looked as if he had seen a ghost.

“My name is Olivia,” I say. “Olivia Barren.” I look around the room and a strange, proud happiness fills me. “It’s nice to meet all of you.” I smile big and sit back down.

That was it. I thought. That was bravery.

[goffilolo]

Revival of Midoriya Izuku part 2

Well well well, its been 84 years hasn’t it? as always you can find the fic under the the same name on ao3. looking forward to the comments and notes

“I can’t believe you dragged me out before I could put on some of my best moves” whined Izuku as he fell into step with the doctor.

“See, the issue here is that there is no difference between your best and your worst moves” deadpanned Shin. “I was saving you from yourself” he added as an afterthought, while mentally praying (to whichever God that has yet to be killed by Izuku) for the safety and sanity of Izuku’s new crush.

It’s been a long day for both of them to say the least. What started off as a casual meet up for breakfast ended up becoming another one of Izuku’s shenanigans that got them both arrested. While that in itself is nothing new, this time they’ve been held up for much longer than usual, because of course they were.

The duo (or trio if you were to count the alleged dog) were currently on their way to Izuku’s house, as the doctor insisted on walking him home from the police station while his mom went in the opposite direction to buy some groceries for tonight’s dinner.

“Saving me?” scoffed Izuku “I think it’s a bit too late for that. But it doesn’t matter, I still have a chance.”

“How so?” asked Shin, with about 80% of disbelievement and 20% curiosity.

The question above has unfortunately unleashed Izuku’s Rant ™ mode.

“That guy mentioned coming back from an entrance exam. If we take into account all the schools that are within a relatively short distance from the police station, as well as the time he arrived, the only logical conclusion would be the UA exam that we KNOW took place today. Also he’s Tensei’s brother, which means he has to have a pretty good quirk so I don’t doubt he passed the entrance exam with flying colours. Do you know what that means Shin?!” asked the teen, with an excitement of a squirrel on 23 red bulls.

“It means that your stalker tendencies are making a comeback?” which apparently was the wrong answer as the doctor’s kneecaps soon found themselves becoming victims of Trash Bandit’s headbutting.

“NO!- I mean, yeah but-” stammered the boy “-the point IS that I know where to find him! Once the new school year starts I can just go to UA to see him whenever!”

“Uh-huh, and what about that teeny-tiny detail of, oh I dunno, YOU NOT ATTENDING UA, IN FACT YOU NOT ATTENDING SCHOOL AT ALL?!”

“First of all, don’t you fuckin use that tone with me Doc, you’re making it sound like I’m a drop-out” pointed Izuku “And second of all, how dare you assume that something as simple as a security system can come in the way of me getting laid.” Not to mention he has technically enrolled into a high school, whether or not he will actually attend is a different story.

“Why do I even bother?” lamented the doctor “I should’ve just kept you locked at the psych ward when I had the chance.”

“But ya didn’t!”

The two continued their usual banter, until they finally reached Izuku’s neighbourhood, at which point the boy took the pity on the bespectacled man and told him to go home, knowing that the man haven’t slept in the last 36 hours and that another 12 hour shift was awaiting him tomorrow morning.

“Oh shit, I do need to go home” mumbled Shin. “I didn’t get to call my wife when we were at the station.”

“What do you mean you didn’t get to call her?” asked Izuku, while trying to hide his surprise and disappointment at the doctor’s marital status, as it puts his matchmaking plans to an end before they would truly begin “Didn’t they give you one call to make?”

“Well yes, but it was a long day and I got hungry, so I ended up calling a takeaway instead.”

“You know Shin, I never thought I would say this about you, but BIG MOOD.”

It was only after they bid each other farewell and went their separate ways that Izuku has noticed something strange. He felt like he was being followed, and for once it wasn’t a quil induced paranoia (or maybe it was? kinda hard to tell these days), looking over to Bandit, he noticed that the sheep also seemed to be on guard. So it’s not just me then .

He made a subtle turn, trying to see if there there were any people behind him. In doing so he failed to notice the the sudden appearance of a tall figure in front of him and was thus more than unprepared for the incoming “ I AM HE-! ”

“BANDIT! ATTACK!”

What followed was a litany of confused screams and vengeful sheep noises enveloped in a spontaneous cloud of smoke, which Izuku threw his axe at, because that is now his go-to solution for any problem. If he wasn’t already so startled by the whole situation he probably would’ve noticed that said cloud of smoke was vaguely All-Might shaped, at least before the sheep was added to the equation. As the smoke began to dissipate it revealed a tall, skeletal figure of a man who looked like if one of those ugly ragdolls you find at goodwill stores came to life. The man in question barely managed to stop the incoming axe using his bare hands, keeping the blade in a karate chop like hold, which would’ve been impressive if it wasn’t for the fact that Trash Bandit was hanging off the man, chewing on his blond his hair. So to say that the current situation was confusing would be a big understatement.

“Who the fuck are you?!” asked Izuku, playing up his ‘good cop/bad cop’ act, except the good cop went and killed himself 9 months prior by smashing his head open against a koi pond, because that’s how it always is within the world of criminal justice; the good ones die too young. Doesn’t matter, Bandit can play a cop, whether he’d be good is questionable, but he’d still a better job than like 90% of the police force he dealt with so far. Except Tsukauchi, he’s a good bitch, far to overworked and underpaid for his job. He’s perfect. Him and Shin would be perfect together, if the doctor wasn’t married that is. Wait, what was he saying?

Oh yeah.

“I asked who the fuck are you” he repeated while pulling out his backup axe out of his yellow backpack “And I don’t like to repeat myself, especially to some old, creepy guys who seem to think it’s ok to go around following underage boys” he explained as he waved his weapon in an unspoken threat.

Which seemed to do the trick as the stranger started to fumble around looking for an excuse and a way to pull the sheep off his hair.

“Aah, sorry about the misunderstanding! We’ve met briefly during the villain attack earlier today. What you did back there was incredible young man!”

“Yeah yeah, pretty sure I would remember meeting a guy who looks like he’s one step away from dropping dead, now answer my question. WHO THE FUCK ARE YOU?”

The man seemed to hesitate as he looked around to make sure no other people were around, which was dumb given that they were still very much in a public place “It’s kinda complicated” he said eventually, like the bullshitter he probably was.

“Look bitch, my whole life is ‘complicated’ ” exclaimed Izuku using obnoxious air quotes “So out with it!”

“What I’m about to tell you is extremely confidential” replied the man, with the grave seriousness of someone who’s about to reveal to their own son after ten years of absence that they’re a mercenary, and yes he is getting personal, fuck you “Under no circumstances are you allowed to tell anyone about my identity-”

“Your fuckin’ secret is safe with my indifference” deadpanned the boy.

The man sighed and took a tentative step back. Once again a cloud of smoke enveloped him. It disappeared almost as soon it came, revealing a figure of no-other than motherfuckin’ All Might.

“I suppose this form is more memorable , isn’t that right young Midoriya?” asked the man, as if he wasn’t a goddamn living legend revealing his secret identity to a kid whose hobbies include committing felony, ravaging through junkyards; and being gay.

“JESUS FUCK! You can’t just DO THAT! Revealing your secret to a random civilian? What the hell All Might, you had too much dumb bitch juice or what?” screamed Izuku, or rather ‘whisper screamed’ as he was trying to juggle scolding his ‘used-to-be role model’ and having an internal meltdown over scolding his ‘used-to-be role model’! To say that the situation he found himself in was bizzare would’ve been an understatement.

After all, it’s not everyday that you meet a man whose very face was a reminder of all the things you could not have, and the person you never got to be. He felt wronged, like the universe has robbed him of an opportunity, except that is not the case as there was nothing to steal to begin with. Still, that vicious little voice inside his head that always whispered ‘you can’t do this’, ‘you can’t have this’ in a poor imitation of Kacchan became almost bearable over time. Almost , being the key word. It became less of an insistent, self-deprecating chant it once was, and slowly morphed into something akin to a static noise from those old TVs; quiet and ever so slightly inconvenient at best, but otherwise unnoticeable unless one deliberately thought about it. And now, being forced to face All Might, Izuku could hear that voice louder than ever before, reminding him of what a failure he used to be, how naive he used to be and ‘did you really believe you could ever compare yourself to him? ’

“Actually, you know what? Nevermind” he continued, hoping to carry the conversation enough to distract him from his own thoughts “Just...why did you want to talk to me? After what happened?”

“Ah, yes! What you did during that villain attack was incredible my boy, reckless but incredible” exclaimed All Might, with the casualness of someone remarking on unusually nice weather despite his overly enthusiastic tone “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen such honest bravery, especially from someone as young as yourself. Even when faced with a villain that other heroes did not dare to go up against, you still ran head first towards the danger, despite lacking any power yourse-” and his inspirational ramble got interrupted by a bloody cough and YET ANOTHER cloud of smoke, reverting him back to his skeletal form.

“Ok yeah- I get it! I’m awesome, the baddest bitch in the town and whatever the fuck, but CAN YOU PLEASE stop coughing up blood?”

All Might continued to wheeze for another minute or so, while Izuku and by extension Bandit were fretting over him.

“I apologise, my health is not what it used to be”

“I can tell”

“You see, 6 years ago I was fighting this one villain-”

“No, stop- don’t care” interrupted Izuku as he waved his hands in a dismissive manner “Please spare me the unnecessary narrative exposition, everyone already knows the story.”

“Who is ‘everyone’? And what are you talking about?” asked All Might in utter bewilderment.

“ Oh, you know ” says Izuku, addressing the reader more so than answering All Might.

That answer explained exactly nothing, but All Might was willing to let it drop and move onto the actual reason for his sudden presence, which if he was being honest with himself he was already regretting.

“Midoriya my boy” he said instead “The reason I wanted to speak to you is because I have a proposition for you...”

“Goddamnit! I knew it!” exclaimed Izuku in a sarcastic, yet over dramatic manner not unlike the characters from Shin’s favourite telenovelas “I knew you were a dirty bastard all along, picking up boys off the streets, using your hero persona to gain their trust-”

“I beg your pardon?!” shouted All Might, ever so scandalised as he did not catch onto Izuku’s joke.

“Then beg” deadpanned Izuku.

Making fun of the number one hero was all nice and good in Izuku’s opinion, but the man did seek him out for a particular reason and they’ve been loitering around the neighbourhood long enough. It was about the time to stop the jokes and get to the point.

“Ok ok, jokes aside, what do you want?”

“I want you to be a hero”

Ouch, too fuckin’ soon.

“Uhm, I don’t know how to tell you this you All Mighty fool but that’s not gonna happen” replied Izuku, utterly unimpressed and very much ready to start crying at any point now “I’m a ‘quirkless nobody’ remember?”

“That can be changed” announced the man, with such conviction that Izuku was almost willing to believe it, despite the ridiculousness of the statement.

“I don’t think it can”

“My quirk is rather unusual, in a way that it can be passed onto another person. I was also quirkless before it was passed onto me and so-”

Oh, no, no no - no fuckin’ way, this is not happening! He knows where this shit is going-

“-due to my health it’s about time for me to find a successor”

“All Might” said Izuku, his voice trembling in fear of what was coming “Don’t, please don’t ask me that question” because he couldn’t bear to hear it, the possibility that was all but wasted, that came far too late, that he let go off before it even presented itself-

“I want you to be a hero” repeated the man.

Instead of an answer, All Might received a pitiful wail.

Because it wasn't fair, wasn’t fair at all. Izuku knew that life wasn’t fair, the fact learnt and ingrained deep within his soul since the day he received the diagnosis. And yet THIS was a new height of cruelty all together, it made Kacchan’s remarks seem like light teasing in comparison. It took everything he once deeply desired, but couldn’t have. Everything he had to give up on that rainy afternoon 9 months ago in order to put himself back together after falling apart for something he could never have; it took all of that and dangled it in front of him like a cheap bait. It was pure mockery. It made his blood boil. So much so that he could do nothing but cry and fall on his knees.

“You know -sob- if you made that offer a year ago, I probably would’ve said yes”

“And now?”

“And now” he whispered in between the sobs “And now I’m gonna ask you to fuck off!”

“Why?” asked All Might, completely stunned by the boy’s reaction.

“BECAUSE I CAN’T DO IT!” screamed Izuku, like a wounded animal that he very much looked like “ I CAN’T BE A HERO, NOR DO I WANT TO BE ONE, NEVER AGAIN!”

It was all too much, far too much, he needed to leave, leave this conversation, leave this man, leave this thought and never look back.

He slowly stood back up, Bandit ever so faithfully waiting at his side holding one of his axes in his mouth like a dog who proudly brings the morning newspaper to their human. Still, it felt wrong to leave without saying anything else, especially considering All Might’s bewilderment.

“I-” and he wasn’t even sure how to explain himself “I always wanted to be a good person and help people, don’t get me wrong, but-”

“But?”

“-but I’ve learnt that being a hero and doing the right thing are two very different things” he stated, remembering the words of his father; words far too powerful, presence far too brief. “Being a ‘hero’ no longer stands for the bravery, nobility and selflessness. It used to, but now it’s merely a job title; a dangerous job yes, but it’s just a job. Originally all real heroes were vigilantes, weren’t they? They took the risk for the sake of doing the right thing, regardless of what the law said, and now heroes are just glorified cops” he ranted.

For a moment Izuku thought he said enough, but there was another thing; a personal thing , even more personal than the whole ‘failed dream’ and ‘existential crisis’ business.

“You said you used to be quirkelss as well, didn’t ya?”

The man in question nodded, not sure where this is going.

“So tell me, the great All Might” exclaimed Izuku as he approached the hero, spitting his name like it was a curse “Why did you accept that quirk?”

The man stood still, staring at Izuku, as if looking long enough will tell his the correct answer.

“Did you want to be a hero? Or did you want to do the right thing?”

“I-”

Ok, so maybe abruptly leaving All Might in the middle of the empty street wasn’t the smartest thing he’s ever done, but Izuku never denied being a dumbass so fuck him sideways. He was far too worked up for all of this bullshit. The day already turned to shit with the whole sludge fiasco and now the universe decided to test his patience and sanity (which he did not have much of anyway). Although he is a little glad that he left before he could dish out some of the more vicious things he had in stock, like calling All Might a ‘quirkless sellout’, or anything else of that variety as long as it got the point across. Sure he promised to keep the man’s secret, but he never promised to be nice about it, because fuck him, he can still do good things and help people, even without a quirk.

The point was that he was bitter, which ok, nothing new, but he was particularly bitter about the whole quirkless thing. It wasn’t so much that he thought of himself as worthless, those days were long over for the most part thanks to months of therapy. It was All Might’s offer that felt like a slap to the face.

Regardless of his current views on heroism he had potential , and isn’t that how the whole thing started? All Might approached him because he saw potential…

A potential that couldn’t be of much use without a quirk.

And didn’t that fuckin hurt.

He suddenly regretted burning the entirely of his All Might merch right after being discharged from the hospital, because now he had nothing left to destroy.

Nevertheless he dropped Bandit off at home - his mother already there, working on tonight’s dinner - and made his way to the Dagobah beach, or what was left of it anyways. During the past 9 months he became more restless; even with homeschooling he had far too much free time than he knew what to do with, which partially resulted in his shenanigans, but it also resulted in looking for a place where he could just be . His mother, bless her soul, was far too overbearing at times despite her good intentions and Izuku was a bit more than fed up with hearing “Are you ok?” every twenty minutes like a goddamn clockwork.

And so he started visiting the local beach, which hasn’t looked like a beach in a long time, as people began to dump their junk there years ago. Bad for the environment, great for Izuku’s need for solitude.

As he entered the beach grounds and began to stumble through the usual mountains of trash he greeted the few people who usually hanged around the place, one of them being the ‘Florida woman’.

Florida woman was not her actual name, but he never asked and she never told him. All he knew was that she was from Florida and that she frequented the trash beach grounds, because it was the only place empty enough where she could take her pet crocodile out on a walk without people screaming in terror at the giant reptile. The crocodile in question, named Cracksaw was lovely and much more obedient than Bandit, he couldn’t understand why people made such a big deal about it.

Another beach regular was Hitoshi, who Izuku met in a cat cafe last year. The guy looked like a lovechild of a zombie and one of those tiny troll dolls from the early 2000s, although Izuku’s hair is just as much of a mess, so he probably can’t judge. Hitoshi was also applying to UA’s hero course and so they originally agreed to meet up this morning so that Izuku could give him some words of ‘encouragement’ or whatever the fuck it is friends are supposed to say. However, since Izuku got caught up in an impromptu fight with a villain he wasn’t able to meet him in the morning.

“Where have you been this morning?” asked Hitoshi.

“Fighting a villain” replied Izuku, ever so casually.

“I can’t tell whether you’re joking or not”

“It’s better if you don’t”

Which is how most of their exchanges went anyway. The less they know about you the better afterall, at least according to the Florida woman. Nevertheless he got caught up in a bit of a smalltalk with Hitoshi, asking about how he did at the exam and so on.

“And so we’re all sitting here, the presentation is just about to start and suddenly the door slams open and some guys runs in-” remarks Hitoshi, more excited than Izuku has seen him in a long time, which to be fair doesn’t say much, because he still looks like he has a serious case of a tired bitch face “- foaming out of his mouth and muttering about fighting a sheep. For a moment I thought you had something to do with it, but the guy looked like he had rabies”

“It’s not rabies, that’s just his personality” replied Izuku, fully aware that he did in fact had everything to do with this, but was not willing to give out anymore details.

“All right, then. Keep your secrets.”

“Oh buddy, I sure will.”

[lifestylejournaling]

Masterlist of Lifestyle Journal Ideas

I was going to post images with each listing, but 100 pictures on one Tumblr post was quite a task. So, if you’d like to see examples of any of these, I am adding them to my Pinterest Board which can be found [here].

1. Books To Read- Color them in as you go! Or make a fun list of them and check them off one at a time. 

2. All About Me- Make doodles of things you love, add quotes, draw yourself!

3. Future Log- There are so many ways to make this page. Please do some research to see which would work best for you

4. Movies To Watch- Pretty self-explanatory, but there are many ways to do this page too

5. Skills To Learn- Jot down all the things you want to learn

6. Important Numbers and Addresses- In case of emergency of course. Also, be careful what you put in this part for your own privacy reasons

7. Year In Pixels- Honestly, one of my favorite pages

8. Fonts, Banners, and Frame Ideas- For practice and to choose from when you are having trouble being creative

9. Snail Mail Log- Keeping a list of people who you want to send letters to

10. Savings Tracker- It’s always fun to see how much you have saved up

11. TV Series Tracker- Keep track of all the shows you still need to binge

12. Monthly Challenges- I know I haven’t been helpful with this lately, but you can always search for challenges on my page

13. Music Playlists- A list of songs that describe you, your goals, things you love, etc. 

14. Timeline of Your Life- This was hard for me to make. My life isn’t all that exciting

15. Inspiration Page- Fill it with quotes, pictures, memories, etc. 

16. Self-Care List/Ideas- I posted many lists like this on my Pinterest if you want more ideas

17. Monthly/Yearly Memories- Look back on all the good and bad things that you’ve gotten over and endured. 

18. Sleep Tracker- See how many hours you get each night. This also works well when paired with number 7. 

19. Me Time Log- Keep track of how many hours you spend with yourself. We all need to learn to love on ourselves a little more. 

20. Tiny Adventures- Go out of your comfort zone and go on some tiny adventures like reading in public, talking to a stranger, giving people compliments, etc. 

21. Word Tracker- For those who are writers who like to procrastinate

22. Daily To-Do List- This can be done on your weekly pages or you can make a page specifically for daily sticky notes. 

23. Blog Post Ideas- Got an idea, but you’re not at your computer or have what you need for your post? WRITE IT DOWN

24. Fitness Log- Keep track of how much and when you work out or stretch or do yoga or and of those fun physical activities. 

25. Food Log- If you’re trying to lose weight or just get healthy or just want to track your food intake for fun, this is for you! 

26. Meal Prep- I love how cute and helpful these pages can be. 

27. Gift Lists- Ever see something and say to yourself, “Man, ____ would really like that”? Keep a list of things people would like so that you don’t worry about it when it comes to holiday time or birthdays. 

28. Grocery Lists- Every time I go shopping, I forget something because I didn’t write it down. 

29. Goals- Oh, yes! It’s 2018. We need some goals. Monthly, weekly, daily, YEARLY. Just get some goals and aim for them. 

30. Recipes To Try- I see nice recipes all the time on Facebook, but I never think about them again after I keep scrolling. It’s bad. 

31. Daily Affirmations- Give yourself some compliments and some emotional support

32. Business Plan- Make yourself a good businesswoman or businessman or businessperson in 2018. You got this. 

33. Birthdays- Keep track of all those important people in your life that need to be remembered on their special day. 

34. Work Hour Log- Sometimes we don’t keep track of all the things we get paid for. Actual work, babysitting, photography jobs, writing jobs, pet sitting, house sitting, etc. 

35. Wishlists- Not so you can #treatyourself, but so that you can make note of things you really want. 

36. Gratitude Log- It’s always good to have a moment of gratitude with yourself. Make it a monthly challenge if you need to!

37. Quotes- Your own, friend quotes, celebrity quotes, author quotes, and lyrics. 

38. Illustrations and Doodles- Doodling helps you keep your mind fresh and ready to react quickly to situations. 

39. Jokes- Your own, ones you heard, ones you read, etc. 

40. New Discoveries and Interesting Facts- Find a new interesting fact? How about that lemonade is basically Sprite in almost any other country than America?

41. Travel Log- Places you want to go! There are so many ways to do this, so look up different versions before starting!

42. Family and Friend Favorites- Their favorite colors, animals, stores, places, hobbies, etc. 

43. DIY Projects- Things you want to try out someday. 

44. Chore List- Keep track of when you do your chores so that your house doesn’t become disgusting or dusty. 

45. Bucketlist- What do you want to do before graduation, moving out, marriage, having kids, etc. 

46. Story Ideas- I always come up with story ideas and then when I sit down to write them, I blank. 

47. Period Log- For people with periods that have many PMS symptoms or even PMDD symptoms. This is a great way to show your doctor all of the things you go through each cycle. 

48. Words That Make You Happy- Silly words, ugly words, words that are fun to say, etc. 

49. Things That Make You Happy- People, places, and things. 

50. Monthly Habits- Water intake, cleaning, bathing, exercising, reading, etc. 

51. Story Titles- This can be titles for books, short stories, poems, or just nice sounding titles for anything. 

52. Made Up Words- I make myself laugh with all the words I make up on the daily. 

53. Follower Counter- This page keeps me inspired to keep doing what I love. 

54. Index- Always have an index for easy access to the pages you want to find. 

55. Icons- Sometimes we need to have icons to make our pages pretty. Sometimes we make too many icons and never use them (me). 

56. Packing List- For those who travel often or stay at friends’ houses more than our own, it’s good not to forget the things we need. 

57. Morning Routines- Our bodies need routines for mornings to get us ready for the day. 

58. Nightly Routines- Our bodies need routines for nights to prepare us for sleep. (see what I did there?)

59. Weight Tracker- If you’re struggling with your weight, keep a chart tracker or add your daily weight to your calendar. 

60. Pen Test Page- If you get new pens, highlighters, or markers, its best to test them out before using them. 

61. Brain Dump- Sometimes we just need to jot down ideas or thoughts. It’s okay if they don’t make sense. 

62. Spending Log- Keep track of what you spend because you might need that someday. 

63. Water Tracker- HYDRATE

64. Habit Tracker Reward System- This is something I came up with myself, so if you have questions, message me!

65. Name Lists (For Babies and Stories)- Keep a list of cool names for characters or even future babies. 

66. Looking Forward To...- Birthdays, holidays, raises, pay days, vacations, etc. 

67. Compliment Lists- Make a list of your go-to compliments, your favorite ones people have given you, etc. 

68. Level 10 Life- Please look up what this is before jumping into it!

69. Pet Care Log- Keep track of how much you do with your pets. Walks, play time, park time, play dates, baths, etc. 

70. Achievements- What have you done that you are proud of?

71. Weekly Log- Keep track of your week. This is one of the most used pages in any bullet journal honestly. 

72. Monthly Log- Another overly used page in any bullet journal. Very important. 

73. Daily Log- I don’t do this too often, but I know it helps others who really need a whole page for each day. 

74. Bill Tracker- This was fun to make and something I will be using now

75. Income Tracker- How much and how frequently do you get paid?

76. Deadline Page- Prepare yourself for things that you need to get done. Do not procrastinate this year!

77. Vocabulary Practice- Sometimes we just need to educate ourselves on our own terms. (and with our own terms. Anyone? Anyone?)

78. Doctor Appointment Log- If you don’t want to add them to your calendar or they are too far out to add to the calendar you’re using. 

79. Username and Password List- Be careful with this page. If someone finds your bullet journal, this could be bad. 

80. Monthly Cover Page- These are so cute! I just started doing them, but they make my journal so artsy and pretty. 

81. Dream Log- This is a fun one. Track your dreams. This would be good to line up with how many hours you get as well. 

82. Favorites List- What are YOUR favorites? Movies, snacks, drinks, subjects, people, colors, animals, etc. 

83. Habits To Break- Do you bite your nails? Quote The Office too much? Throw clothes into piles on your floor? STOP THAT. 

84. Small Things That Matter- Puppies, getting up in the morning, pennies, smiling at yourself, laughter, etc. Remind yourself that there is good in the world. 

85. Things To Sell- Get rid of the things you don’t need. Or make things to sell! Be prosperous this year. 

86. School Schedule- High school and college students really need this. Even teachers do too. Make a chart of your classes, room numbers, buildings, and times.

87. House Projects- Things that need fixing or improvements around the house. 

88. Day Trip Ideas- Fun places to go when you have the time. 

89. Things I Am Bad At- It’s okay to admit our shortcomings and work on them. Or just accept them for what they are. 

90. Resolutions- YES! Make yourself this better this year. Be the best you. 

91. Crochet/Knit Log- When making a blanket, small items, or just keeping track of your improvements in your skill. 

92. Future Planning- Make a list of the things you want in your future and how you plan on getting them. 

93. Quirk List- Ever notice you do small little weird things? Make a list to appreciate who you are. 

94. Who Borrowed What- Sometimes people borrow things and you forget until you need it again. By then, they threw it out or gave it to someone else. 

95. Six Word Stories- Get those creative juices pumping. 

96. Love Yourself- Write down all the things you love about yourself. Appreciate yourself. 

97. Paying It Back- Honestly, a good page to have, but it doesn’t get much attention from me. 

98. Childhood Dreams- We should always try to look back on what we thought we wanted

99. Good Deed Ideas- Ever think “wow, wouldn’t it be great if I could _____”?

100. Mind Mapping- There are a few reasons I really enjoy this, but it really helps me get my thoughts and ideas out more easily

[tasharii]

Say Yes: Part 1

Summary: Fate brought you together but that doesn’t mean anything is ever guaranteed. There are a lot of reasons that it shouldn’t work out. People from different worlds usually don’t. But every time you say yes, it gets harder to imagine ever telling him no.

A/N: This has been bouncing around in my head after some badly timed song inspiration. There should be about 5 parts, at least that’s how it’s currently planned out. Should have known I couldn’t just do a Steve Rogers oneshot....

Pairing: Reader x Steve Rogers

Warnings: fluff, some language

Word Count: 4K

Masterlist

Part 1  Part 2  Part 3

****

Steve frowned down at his phone as it vibrated on the kitchen counter. It shook the salt and pepper shakers, making them clink together obnoxiously. He took another sip of his black coffee, debating on answering or not. It wasn’t often that he got calls from numbers he didn’t recognize. The liquid burned down his throat, warming him up from the inside.

Bucky glanced over and raised his eyebrows. Seeing Steve’s intense stare at the buzzing object, he took a half step turn and leaned his hip against the counter beside the stove, "You gonna get that?" He waved his spatula at it. Pancakes sizzled on the pan behind him, his voice barely loud enough to carry over the hissing of the oil. 

Making up his mind, Steve nodded, and sat down his hot mug. It had the Captain America shield boldly stamped on it. A gift from Tony. Water dripped down his ears, hair still wet from his post-workout shower. His thumb brushed across the screen and he pressed the phone to his ear, "Steve Rogers."  Words calm and firm, his ‘Captain America’ tone. At least that’s what Bucky called it. Hazy morning light glowed across the kitchen counter above the sink and refracted off the multicolored granite.

Seconds passed before you piped up over the line, sounding nervous but still clear, "Oh um I'm sorry but I'm looking for a Steven Barnes?" A crease formed between his eyebrows, and he tapped his socked foot against the lower support rail of the stool he occupied. Elbows on the counter, his fingers pushed the coffee mug around in front of him, thinking.

Several months had passed since he used that identity. It was the name on his lease from the last apartment he stayed at. Back before Bucky returned from the dead. Before he finally gave in and moved into the Tower where his best friend would he safer. 

"That's me. What can I help you with?" He lifted his mug back up, hiding a smile behind it. Steve hoped to ease some of your tension with his friendlier tone. Bucky kept glancing at him from the stove, obviously eavesdropping, he ignored him.

"Well you see, I got this number from the landlord. I moved into your old apartment. Found some stuff in the closet that you might want. A shoebox? It's got some old pictures, sketchbook, and dog tags in it." You explained, noticeably sorting through the stuff as you went. The sound of shuffling paper and metallic jingling floated through, far away from the phone’s receiver.

Steve tensed, surprised. Bucky plopped a plate of steaming pancakes in front of him with a questioning stare. Concerned about the tension curling up in Steve's muscles. The smell made his mouth water, but he couldn’t bring himself to eat yet. Not while trying to figure out what he was going to do. Blankly, he stared down at his coffee, like it could answer all his problems. Fingers loosely gripping the handle, he took a drink, buying himself a few seconds.

He hadn't entirely unpacked since moving into the new apartment. There were boxes still filling up his closet that he had yet to go through. A lot had happened in the short time since they both started living in Stark Tower. He just hadn't gotten to it. But he never imagined he left anything behind in his hurry. Especially not his old dog tags or a sketchbook.

"Hello?" You asked, worried from the long silence. 

"Ya. Ya sorry." Steve cleared his throat, pinching the bridge of his nose, "If it's alright, I could come get the box later today."

A minute passed before you finally answered, "My last class is over at 1. Can you come around 2?"

Steve nodded and then realized you couldn't see that, so he quickly replied, "Sure! I'll see you then." Then he hung up. Only to wince and realize he never actually asked for your name.

Bucky sat down beside him at the kitchen island, propped on a stool. They never used the table. He took a bite of his pancakes, dripping in syrup and smirked over at Steve, "Got a date?" His mouth was full when he spoke, making Steve grimace in disgust. Then the words fully processed in his brain.

So, he blushed at the implication and scowled stubbornly down at his food, "Course not. I just gotta get some stuff I left at my apartment." He shrugged nonchalantly, and Bucky hummed in the annoying way that meant he was reading far more into it.

"She sounded cute." He started but then barked a laugh when Steve elbowed him in the ribs. Hard. Bucky slung a bit of syrup across the counter, fork swinging as he tried to fight off Steve’s elbow.

"You're the worst." Steve rolled his eyes, stopping his assault, and focused back on his food. It looked really good, like most of Bucky’s meals. He was mid-chew when he felt Bucky staring at him again. Pointedly, he ignored him, cutting aggressively into a piece of sausage.

"And you're blushing." Bucky grinned and Steve dropped his fork. It clanked loudly against the plate and he threw up his hands in frustration.

"Fuck you Barnes."

****

The firm knock on your door had you jumping off your worn-out couch. Book you were reading forgotten, you stumbled over thin air and caught yourself on the couch’s armrest. Undeterred, you hurried to answer it only to pause short of opening it. It didn’t make much sense that you were nervous. Still, you smoothed out your t-shirt, tugged down your black jean shorts and ran your fingers through your hair.

Even after all that, you still felt like a hot mess. Annoyed with yourself, you finally reached for the door. One heavy bolt lock later, and it swung open. Your worst fear stood just across the threshold.

In the form of a very tall, very strong, and very handsome blond.

Steve smiled sweetly at you and offered a small wave. On its own, his smile had your throat closing up. The cute little wave filled your mouth with dust bunnies. Still, determined, you beamed at him and took a step back, "Wanna come in?" You waved back towards your apartment, swallowing the lump in your throat. The blinds were cracked, letting in strips of golden afternoon light. Quiet music played from your radio and everything smelt faintly of coffee from earlier that morning.

He seemed surprised at the offer, eyes wide and hesitating for a second, but then he nodded. Slightly self-conscious, you wondered if it was weird that you were inviting him in. Too late now. As he stepped through he politely removed his cap and ran a hand through his soft dandelion hair, tussling it, "This place looks so much better than when I lived here." Steve chuckled, taking it in.

There were still some boxes in a few corners, but you had all the furniture situated. Several bookshelves lined the walls, filled to the brim with books, movies, and games. A large entertainment center with different gaming systems sat against one wall, and a couch with a miss-matched recliner circled around it. Pictures hung along the walls, and knickknacks covered most of the surfaces. 

It felt lived in. And warm.

"I doubt that," You shook your head, "I'm still settling in." After he stepped through, you kicked the door shut with your bare heel, and stood next to him, watching him as he looked around.

Steve shrugged, "Still, it looks good. Homey."

Unable to help it, you blushed under the praise. Then shifted your weight nervously from foot to foot. Before remembering, eyes wide, "Oh um. I'm Y/N. By the way." You offered out your hand. He was so much taller than you that you had to elevate your hand up a little, rather than straight out.

Steve took it and sheepishly ducked his head as you shook, "Sorry about that." His hand was rough and warm. Made you feel warmer just from holding it for a second.

You shook your head, dropping your hand and subtly flexing your fingers. Those were definitely sparks making your heart race, "Its ok. Not every day a stranger calls saying they got your stuff." His eyes were still roaming your apartment and you didn’t really mind. Part of you was happy that he liked what you did with the place. The dark wooden floor was cool under your feet and his heels clicked against it as he took a few steps further into your living room.

Steve's mouth closed, reply forgotten, and he suddenly went still. His eyes were trained on something above your head. Slowly, you turned and followed his line of sight to one of the paintings on your wall. Still silent, he walked closer to inspect it.

It was a skyline of Brooklyn. You could tell that much from some of the buildings, but it wasn’t an exact skyline you ever recognized here. Ever since you found the painting in the back of your closet, you had tried to find the view, but with no luck.

"Oh um..." You followed him over to the painting. It was hung across the room above one of your shorter bookshelves, "That was in the closet too. I hope you don’t mind. It was just so pretty." Crossing your arms, you studied the painting for the millionth time.

Steve shook his head, smiling reluctantly, "You think so?" A light blush covered his cheeks and you stared at him curiously. Wondering what he was blushing for. Butterflies fluttered through your stomach at the sight of the pretty pink across the bridge of his nose.

"Definitely. You can tell that skyline is special to the painter. It's a little sad but sweet too." You confided, hoping that your words made sense. Sometimes, you couldn’t explain yourself too well. Your eyes flicked from the painting to his face.

Eyes round with surprise, Steve stared down at you. He swallowed and tucked his hands into the pockets of his brown jacket. After studying you a second longer than appropriate, he finally managed, "You can keep it." To be fair, you had been watching in right back. Lost in the peculiar expression on his face.

Your eyes widened, and you smiled, a wave of appreciation swept through you, "Really? Are you sure?" 

"Ya. You appreciate it more than I do." Steve nonchalantly shrugged, shuffling his feet and appeared a smidge uncomfortable with your gratitude.

Despite that, you continued to grin, "Thank you." You turned back to it for a second and took a step closer. Leaning up above the bookshelf, you tapped at the little signature at the bottom, "Do you know who the artist is? I'd like to see more of their work. Maybe get another to go with this one." Eyebrows raised, you turned and peered back over at him.

Somehow, Steve blushed more and cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck nervously, "Well um... I actually painted it." Two seconds ago, you couldn’t have imagined finding him anymore attractive but here you were.

You stared at him, obviously not believing him for a second but then your mouth dropped in surprise. It took you a minute to form words and you covered your face when a giggle escaped, "Oh geeze... well I'm glad I didn’t say anything stupid." You snickered and shook your head, backing away from him and the painting. As if attempting to escape the awkward situation.

Shoulders shaking, Steve laughed at how flustered you were, "It’s alright. Really. I'm happy someone likes my work." He paused, as if considering something as he gazed at it, “I painted this from memory. From when I was younger. I used to sit on the fire escape and watch the sunset. Didn’t have much better to do.” Steve exhaled loudly, “I was sick all the time. So, I stayed home a lot, even when I got older.”

You listened attentively as he talked and when he trailed off you nodded in understanding. Not surprised, you had been right about it being sad, “It’s kinda dumb but I’ve been trying to find where you got this skyline. I wanted to see the real thing.” There was a theory bouncing through your head about why you couldn’t find it. Steve confirmed it when his face pinched in thought. Uncomfortable again.

“The apartment I painted this from got torn down a while ago. Remodeled.” Steve stepped away from the painting and over to another one a foot away. He brushed you off, vague with his reply, but you didn’t really mind. Weren’t even all that surprised. His eyes took in the details easily, and he even started looking through your collections of books, movies, and games.

Still apprehensive about the situation, you walked over to the small kitchen. The kitchenette and living room were only separated by a counter that doubled as your table. Along with the floor shifting from wood to tile. Head ducked, you pulled a coke out of the fridge. Busy hands helped distract you. Took your mind off the ridiculously attractive man browsing through your things.

"Want one?" You asked, holding up your drink to draw his attention to it.

Distracted, Steve nodded, and you brought one over for him before sitting down on the couch. Slowly, he turned, and his eyes fell on you. Then the table in front of you. The shoebox of his things was on the coffee table. Steve sat down beside you, a polite distance away, and his eyes fell on the shoebox, "Thanks for not just throwing this stuff out." He pulled it over to him and started sorting through it.

A fond smile made his features soften. You leaned closer, sipping on your drink. Earlier, you had gone through it yourself. There were some pictures of the Howling Commandoes. Dogtags with Steve Rogers’ name and identification number. And a lone sketchbook.

"I could tell this wasn’t just some junk left behind." You shrugged, combing your fingers through your hair so it fell over one shoulder. It most definitely, was not junk. Especially considering it was obviously Captain America memorabilia. That stuff could go for quite a bit of money. More importantly, it was clear that someone cared a great deal about this stuff. Now you knew who.

Steve opened the sketchbook and started flipping through it. It was newer, but the edges were frayed and worn. Every single page filled with something. Mostly random drawing. Objects, buildings, parts of Brooklyn, and people. All done in an impressive amount of detail. You watched him sort through the pages quietly. Baby blues far away in the memories it brought back.

"You're really talented." You offered, fingers curled around your drink. Legs crossed on the cushion furthest from him, you leaned forward on your elbows, so you could take in the drawings for probably the third time.

A moment passed before Steve glanced curiously over at you. There was a dawning expression of realization blooming across his features. He met your eyes, hesitating on a drawing of Loki and his scepter. Realization transitioned to confusion within a second. You weren't treating him differently. In fact, you were doing your best to treat him like the person he was. Not the icon from history. His suit wasn’t anywhere in sight, and he wasn’t demanding your admiration.

So, you quietly waited for him to say something. You weren’t sure if you would rather him admit to being Captain America or continue to let you get to know Steve. Like a deer in headlights, Steve just eyed you, eyebrows furrowed. Unsure and nervous. His fingers fussed with the corner of the pages, ruffling them. He didn’t move a muscle. Stayed leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, sketchbook in his hands.

Another minute passed before you looked down at the drawing and smiled, "His helmet is ridiculous. Did he really make it that big?" Changing the subject seemed like the best course of action. Hopefully, it would combat the awkward tension that had started to build up.

Steve jerked, surprised yet again, his eyes tracked your finger tracing the horns and smiled, "Ya, he was a little full of himself." You were leaning forward just a bit further, so you could lightly touch the page.

A hum of understanding left your throat and you nodded, "Maybe he was overcompensating for something." Your eyes met his again and you leaned back. Setting your drink back on the coffee table, you gave him a suggestive smirk.

It was like an anchor slipped off Steve’s shoulders. Ankle crossed over his knee, he relaxed back against the couch and snorted, "Ya, it's hard to live up to Thor. It's still a running joke that Loki is a puny god." His voice grew lighter as he kept talking and it made you relax in return.

It felt like an unspoken promise blossomed between you two. Connected you.

The Captain America thing just didn’t matter.

  Conversation flowed easily after that. It didn’t stay on the topic of the Avengers for long. In fact, you asked him more questions about his hobbies and likes. While he asked about your job and your life. Strangely enough, it was like you two were old friends, just catching up.

Before you realized it, the hour had drifted to dinner time. The light from you living room window stretched gold and warm across your floor. You pulled your phone out of your back pocket and sighed, “It’s getting late.”

Legs tucked up on the couch, you were turned to face Steve, arm propped up under your head. His thigh touched your bare knees and he was comfortably nestled back against the couch, face close to yours. Cheek pressed against your hand, you frowned down at your phone. As if it was the reason for the way your heart was being constricted like a python got ahold of it. Irrational, unabashed disappointment seeped into your skin.

Steve frowned too and pressed his lips together in a firm line, “Ya I’ve probably stayed way longer than I should’ve.” It was amazing how quickly 4 hours could drift by. Despite saying that, he didn’t make a move to get up. Just continued to study you, hands clenched into fists in his lap. Behind his eyes, you could see the gear turning. Like he was working out some sort of problem.

Not an inch of you even feigned to get off the couch before him. Instead, you held his gaze and bit your bottom lip. If you were being honest, you were starving. Too late to catch breakfast that morning, and too nervous to eat much before he arrived. Now it felt like your insides were going cannibalistic and eating your stomach. Still, you didn’t want him to leave. So, you refused to be the first to get up and show him the door.

Finally, Steve asked, “Do you think I could see you again?” His voice was quiet, hesitant, and his face betrayed how nervous he was. Hands squeezed together, he ducked his head down and then swallowed and stared up at you with a new kind of resolve. Like he was a knight and you were the princess he wanted to win favor from.

It felt like your heart skipped three beats and stopped all at once, “Ya, I’d like that a lot.” Blushing, you carded your fingers through your hair and pushed it back out of your eyes. Nervously twisting it in your fingers. There wasn’t enough oxygen in the room. Your body was too light and fluttery.

A grin made Steve’s face light up like a summer morning, “How ‘bout right now?” Your eyebrows inched up to your hairline, and he chuckled, “I mean, if you’re hungry. I’d love to buy you dinner.”

Unable to think of anything else to say, you nodded and stood up. Steve followed you and picked up his jacket from where he had discarded it on the armrest of the couch. Shrugging it back onto his shoulders, he pulled on his shoes while you slipped on your own. You grabbed a denim jacket and tugged it on.

Outside, it was late summer, slipping into fall. Cool enough that a light jacket was acceptable but warm enough that it wasn’t entirely necessary. If you had time, you would have done something different than shorts with a jacket, but you didn’t want to make him wait. Wallet in hand, you tucked your phone into your back pocket.

“Wanna split the cab?” You asked, nervous anticipation growing in your stomach. This was really happening.

Steve shook his head, “Actually, I’ve got a motorcycle.” You paused, door to your apartment open and lights flicked off, “If that’s ok! I mean, we could take a taxi if you’d rather.” He held up his hands and rubbed the back of his neck. It made you feel better knowing he was willing to do what you wanted, even if it wasn’t the easier option.

“No!” You blushed at how enthusiastic you sounded and continued quieter, “No, I mean. I would love to ride on your motorcycle.” You bit your bottom lip and turned away from him to lock up. The door shut quietly behind you and you tucked your keys in the inside pocket of your jacket, along with your wallet. When you glanced back up at him, he was grinning.

“Good to know.” He mused and wrapped an arm over your shoulder. Like it was an old habit. His hand squeezed your shoulder and you leaned into him, enjoying his cologne. It was so easy to fall into step with him as he guided you down the dimly lit hall. Comfortable silence filled the air and he pressed the button to call the elevator.

As you waited, you quietly asked, “Steve?” He looked down at you with a half-smile and raised his eyebrows. Chickening out, you shrugged, “Just wanted to know where you wanted to go to dinner.” The elevator dinged to announce its arrival, and Steve swept you inside. His fingers played with a lock of your hair as the elevator started its decent.

“There’s a really nice family owned Italian place I’ve been to. It’s not well known but the foods good.” Steve offered and paused, fingers still in your hair, he chuckled sheepishly, “Sorry, does that bother you?” He tugged gently on one strand, “It’s just… pretty.” It was easy to imagine the blush across his face went all the way down to his toes.

Shaking your head, you brought your hand up to cover his, “I don’t mind. I actually love it when people play with my hair.” You admitted, and he grinned, squeezing your fingers in his.

“Off to a good start already.” Every smile he gave you and every compliment made you feel more alive than you thought you could. Steve made you feel things you’d never experienced before. It amazed you that one person could make you so flustered with a single word.

Seconds passed, and the incredibly old, crawling elevator took its time going down 10 floors. The question from before bubbled back onto your tongue and Steve threaded his fingers with yours. Hand lifted to your shoulder, you ran your thumb up against his palm, tracing random designs. Steve tilted his head and hesitantly pressed a feather light kiss against your temple. It made your heart swell so much and it hurt.

Part of you was scared. Scared to care so much already.

“Steve.” You started again, catching his attention.

“Ya?” He asked, pulling back just enough so he could meet your eyes when you looked up at him.

“Do you believe in fate?” It was such a childlike question, but it felt so important to you right then. Fate had never crossed your mind before. Not till now. In this dingy elevator with two lights out overhead and water stains on the floor. Somehow, fate was stitched into the very fabric of this moment.

Even the smallest smile made him shine and had you feeling warm all over, “Yes.” Soft blue eyes held your own with intense sincerity. It was a simple answer, but it meant everything.

“Me too.”

Next Part

[aion-rsa]

Resident Evil Village Struggles to Turn Horror Gaming into a Blockbuster

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In case you haven’t heard, Resident Evil Village is a hit. The game’s sales figures suggest it could go on to become the best-selling RE title ever, and critics and fans everywhere are ready to name Resident Evil Village one of the best games of 2021, one of the better Resident Evil games, and even one of the best demonstrations of next-gen gaming technology so far.

If you’re looking at Resident Evil Village as a product, it’s hard not to consider the game a success even this early into its lifespan. Capcom is probably pretty happy with the game, and in many of the ways that matter most, they should be happy. Resident Evil Village is a very good game. You could even probably throw out the word “great” in many circles and not have to argue about it.

It’s when you start to ask questions about how Resident Evil Village works as a “horror” game, though, that the conversation surrounding arguably the biggest release of 2021 so far becomes much more complicated.

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Resident Evil Village is a Gameplay Theme Park With a “Horror Land” Section

Coming out of Resident Evil 7, I hoped that its eventual sequel would end up being more like the first 3/4 of the game (which emphasized small sets, limited resources, and often unnerving moments of horror) and less like the last 1/4 of the game (which relied a bit too much on an awkward form of first-person gunplay). Given that the millions of people who played Resident Evil 7 also praised those early parts of the game and were critical of its later sections for roughly those same reasons, there seemed to be a popular belief the next game in the series would advance what worked and address what didn’t.

There’s a degree to which that proved to be true, but one of the most surprising things about Resident Evil Village is how it’s structured. Whereas the previous game’s thematic divide felt like a questionable decision, the divide here is significantly more deliberate. It’s almost like the game is an amusement park divided into four themed “lands” that are connected by a hub area where you get your refreshments and souvenirs.

Two of those lands (Lady Dimitrescu’s castle and Donna Beneviento’s home) are not only clear examples of horror game design but very good examples at that. Hell, Lady Dimitrescu’s castle is practically a throwback to most of RE‘s “trademark” elements (large stalker characters who chase you throughout the area, limited resources, puzzles, and a creepy residential setting). It’s not just a reminder of so many of the things we fell in love with about this franchise over the years but it’s the section of the game that most clearly resembles what many people considered to be the best parts of Resident Evil 7 and the ideas that made them fall in love with the series again.

Donna Beneviento’s home is arguably even more interesting than that. It deprives you of all your weapons and items and makes you solve what turns out to essentially be an elaborate escape room. The designs of its hallways and rare use of “fetus horror” make it a clear callback to P.T., but it feels more like a bigger nod to games like Outlast and Amnesia which emphasized a “defenseless” style of horror at a time when Triple-A horror games were still often relying on more action-based gameplay.

You can’t be talked into liking these sections of the game if you just don’t like them, but as someone who looked forward to the idea of Village expanding on RE 7‘s best horror ideas, these two areas gave me pretty much exactly what I was looking for and more. Dimitrescu’s castle was an engaging bit of survival horror that combined ’90s tropes with modern sensibilities while Beneviento’s house was a genuinely terrifying piece of game design that felt like the team flexing their ability to go toe-to-toe with the most legendary designers in modern horror gaming. These two areas prove that when the Resident Evil team wants to make a great horror game that would be top of its class in any era of horror gaming, they are more than capable of doing so.

So does Resident Evil Village stop trying to scare you beyond those initial sections? Not exactly, but the way that the game divides its campaign into these clearly defined gameplay areas starts to become more pronounced as it abandons more traditional horror ideas in favor of something…different

Resident Evil Village’s Action Sequences Often Struggle to be Scary

It’s tempting to say Resident Evil Village‘s third and fourth main areas (which are ruled over by Salvatore Moreau and Karl Heisenberg) abandon horror in favor of action, but that’s not strictly true. Moreau is an intimidating presence whose fish form forces you to stay on the move, and Heisenberg’s factory is filled with creative monstrosities who often overwhelm you in tight corridors. It’s not like the game suddenly becomes Max Payne.

The problem isn’t that these sections aren’t trying to be scary. The problem is that they struggle to take the best horror elements of the previous sections and incorporate them into the action.

Moreau’s section is often intense, but it’s not very threatening. Moreau’s scripted movements and the relatively linear nature of this area mean that it lacks the constant threat of Dimitrescu’s presence or the overwhelming feeling of dread that looms over Beneviento’s mansion. It’s not quite a scripted QTE section, but it often feels like one in the worst ways.

Heisenberg’s lair is even stranger. At this point, Resident Evil Village just throws waves of werewolves at you and spices things up with battles against mechanical creations. It’s certainly not bad, but the bigger problem here is that you’re likely going to be armed to the teeth at this point in the game and probably not hurting for ammo as the previous two areas were light on enemy encounters. You even pilot a homemade tank in the final battle against Heisenberg! The entire area reminds me of the recent Wolfenstein games. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, but as the conclusion to what came before, it feels like less of a pay-off that builds off your mechanical and emotional investments and more of a detour.

Even though the popular line on Resident Evil Village is that it’s more action-heavy than the previous game, the real thing that stands out is how jarring so much of the action of the later sections is in comparison to the rest of the game. When the game does crank up the action, it does so in such a way that feels almost hostile towards the ideas of “survival horror” and resource management. Because of that, the scares it does throw at you are almost all overcome by a few bullets. The less said about the game’s boss fights (which take the idea of bullet sponges to a frustrating new level), the better.

Resident Evil Village isn’t quite four games in one, but the awkward transition between its main areas can leave you with the feeling you’re dining on a sampler rather than just ordering the one thing you really want.

Village tries to unify these ideas in various ways, but the results are a mixed bag. For instance, I mostly love the game’s use of a “merchant,” but you really only start to feel his value at higher difficulty levels when enemies require more bullets to kill. Otherwise, he’s a save room companion that appears often enough to ensure you rarely feel resource-starved.

I also wanted to love his upgrade system (which requires you to turn in animal meat for permanent boosts and abilities) but the heavily scripted placement and behavior of the game’s animals mean that it rarely felt satisfying to find and kill them, while the easy nature of the game’s combat meant I rarely felt incentivized to go out of my way for help. It’s another example of a good idea that just isn’t incorporated well into the overall experience and ends up standing out in a negative way.

The same is true of the actual village’s “Metroidvania” like design, which gives the impression that it’s filled with unlockable shortcuts and secrets but ultimately proves to be surprisingly linear. Most shortcuts you find are found through the course of natural progression, and only a couple of treasures require you to go out of your way. There again, though, your desire to go out of the way for any of it may be hindered by the game’s generally forgiving nature, which already makes these sometimes disconnected ideas feel even more arbitrary.

It’s tempting to say that the game’s developers didn’t know what kind of game they wanted to make so they just threw a little bit of everything in there, but that’s likely not the case. In fact, I do think that Village‘s team knew exactly what kind of game they wanted to make. It’s just that the game they wanted to make seemingly wasn’t united by the idea of horror but rather a fear over what has happened to horror games of the past.

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Resident Evil Village Reminds Us Horror Games Are Rarely Best Sellers

A 2019 report on the best-selling survival horror games in U.S. history reveals that seven of the top-ten titles are from the Resident Evil franchise and that the top two sellers (Resident Evil 4 and 5) are the ones that utilized more action-heavy design ideas.

The non-Resident Evil games on that list (The Evil Within, Dead Space 2, and Dying Light) may also come as a surprise. Where are beloved and acclaimed horror games like Silent Hill, Amnesia, and Until Dawn? They’re much further down the list than you probably want to hear.

Horror games have traditionally struggled to become blockbuster hits, which is quite surprising when you consider that horror movies have consistently been some of the film industry’s most profitable products. If there’s a difference between the two, it seems that many more people have fun being scared with friends while watching a horror movie than they do when playing video games (often, in the case of horror, by themselves). Indeed, the interactive nature of video games makes them one of the most effective mediums for horror.

When it comes to Resident Evil Village, that seems to have been the “problem.” In a recent interview, Village producer Tsuyoshi Kanda said that the team took it as a “compliment” some players found Resident Evil 7 too scary but noted that “it’s always our goal to create something that anybody can feel comfortable jumping in and playing, so we eased up on the tension curve [in RE Village] relative to Resident Evil 7: Biohazard, so players aren’t in constant fear.”

So as it turns out, the Village team’s apparent decision to not bind all these ideas they had with the thread of scaring the hell out of us at all times was apparently very much intentional. Resident Evil Village isn’t trying to be the scariest game you’ve ever played and failing at doing so; it’s trying to be a horror game that gets more people into horror games.

There’s a degree to which I respect that approach more than I can put into words. I love horror, and I want as many people as possible to love horror. I wouldn’t show someone who’s not a horror fan the scariest movie I can think of to get them into the genre, and I wouldn’t tell someone who is scared of horror games to get over it and play Alien: Isolation. I’d tell them to start on a classic like Bride of Frankenstein, and I’d sooner recommend they play something like Resident Evil Village and be thrilled if they ended up enjoying a game that was still as scary as this one sometimes is.

If Resident Evil Village‘s strong sales inspire more studios to make horror games, then I’ll consider it a success in a way that goes beyond any criticisms I could possibly throw at some of its design decisions. We need more great horror games, and if they happen to look as good as Village and be embraced as widely as this game has been so far, so much the better. I don’t need Resident Evil Village to be the scariest horror game ever, but I would love it if its success allowed some other studio to go out and make that very game.

In many ways, then, Resident Evil Village is a horror blockbuster. Yet, the ways it’s not quite worthy of that title make me worry about the immediate future of the franchise and perhaps the genre.

Resident Evil Village Doesn’t Make it Clear Where Resident Evil Goes From Here

If Resident Evil 7 was about 75% horror and 25% action, I’d say that Village is closer to 50/50. As noted above, though, the bigger talking point is how the game struggles to fold horror into the more action-focused sections and instead makes the dividing line between them a bit bolder than ever.

The dream scenario is that Capcom finds a way to keep that 50/50 style but finds a way to blend those ideas together smoothly enough that you don’t notice the lines that separate them. At the very least, we can hope that Resident Evil 9 doesn’t make its later parts quite so action-heavy and frontload the horror rather than spreading it evenly throughout. It certainly seems counterproductive to suggest that you’re making a game less scary to reach a wider audience but then putting nearly all of your best scares at the front of the game when you’re more likely to dissuade them from continuing or even starting.

Yet, it’s hard not to wonder if the next Resident Evil game will continue the series’ recent evolution by making the horror portion of the experience just a bit smaller. It’s a decision that may not matter much if there were enough notable horror games on the market to pick and choose your preferences, but at a time when it seems Resident Evil is one of the last Triple-A horror survivors, it almost feels like the series is burdened with the task of finding how to make a better horror blockbuster rather than continuing to suggest that “horror games” and “blockbuster games” are forever destined to be two different design concepts and that the latter will continue to eat the former if necessary.

The post Resident Evil Village Struggles to Turn Horror Gaming into a Blockbuster appeared first on Den of Geek.

from Den of Geek https://ift.tt/3hhEPc7

[redditnosleep]

I've Been Seeing A Man In My Backyard For The Past Two Nights

by Opinionson

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 (Final)

Hi everyone,

For anyone who has been reading this I am alive and well but far from safe. As my neighbor and I were waiting for the coast to be clear, I saw my garage door open and at approximately 3:27 am, and right then my neighbor and I booked it to his car. As we were leaving I saw the light turn on in my bathroom and I nearly threw up realizing how easily he got in and how I had been just a sitting duck an hour prior. I have been fantasizing over and over of how if I had stayed in there, my neighbors would have called me telling me he was in my driveway and i would had heard my garage opening with dread just knowing I was absolutely fucked. Once we were in the car we sped off to the police station.

Police gave me the usual rundown of questions in this type of situation like; Whether I knew this man, when and where my first encounter with him was, and whether I could identify his car/if I managed to write down his license plate. I told them he had only come two times prior, and that both times it was too dark to tell even with the street light. When the man had parked in my driveway one of my neighbors who had still been on the lookout said she that she saw the car was a grey Volkswagen with no license plate. She went on to say she saw the man type in the code to my garage, go inside and turn on each of my lights, as though he was checking the whole house. The man had stayed there for 5 minutes according to her and proceeded to get back in his car without taking anything and sped off down my street. She notified the police immediately and they have been searching for him since then.

Nothing has come up. We returned to find that the house had been left relatively unscathed. The police did not find even a trace of DNA. Whoever this man was, he was meticulous as all hell, and somehow had gained the knowledge of what my garage code was. It makes me shiver to think he may have been watching me even as I typed it in earlier in the week. God only knows what other knowledge he has to track me down. My parents have still yet to return home from their trip as their plane was delayed, so as of right now I am alone and still at the hotel with only a bottle of Jack Daniels to console me. A couple police cars has been stationed around the area of my house looking for the guy and they are all waiting upon his arrival. I am not leaving this hotel until this fucker is caught. I don’t think I will be able to sleep tonight. I am hoping this is the night he finally can’t track me.

The police have advised me to stop using any form of social media that can be indicative of where I am. That means no snapchat, no instagram, no facebook; nothing. They told me that I can use my laptop as long as I remain as low profile as possible. This means all I can do now is wait for the police to call me and tell me that the stalker has been caught. Now I am gonna try and figure out just who this guy is and why he might try to be stalking me.

Theory 1: My 9th grade Italian teacher. So I went to a private school and this teacher had basically been one of the biggest lunatics I had ever met in a school system. He was very outspoken in the way he described politics and very mean spirited during his time teaching. He would always make fun of students, had sometimes fallen asleep in class, and would always make perverted comments towards girls I knew. So one day, I decided to write an email to the Dean asking him to please fire the man from his teaching position and explaining the unacceptable behavior he had while working. It worked, and I have never seen the man since. Now the reason I think he could be a possibility is because he never particularly liked me, in fact I feel as though he singled me out in a lot of instances and picked on me. I don’t know if he ever found out I sent the email, but if he did I am extremely worried. I can’t tell if it was him or not when he spoke in my backyard, as I was in full adrenaline mode while I was screaming at him. I would say this is not a likely suspect but I’m just not sure.

Theory 2: My Christian deacon from back in second grade. I used to be part of this church program a while back when I was in elementary school. Out of all the head figures there one that always stood out to me: Deacon Anthony. He was a middle aged man, very soft spoken and he had always been very particularly nice to me and my friend Kevin. He would often bring us candy, talked to us about our home life, and treated us more fairly than the rest of the kids. One day my friend Kevin had told me that Deacon Anthony had asked Kevin if he wanted to go home with him to hang out. Kevin said no to him and told me. I told my parents about this and they had immediately contacted the church and told them about it. After that I never saw Deacon Anthony again. My parents later told me that they had contacted the board and he was removed from the church. If this is the guy, he must have had a massive personality shift after that incident because the way the man happily told me to “HAVE A NICE DAY” did not match up with the one he had when I was younger.

Theory 3: My classmate Derek from 8th grade. Derek was one of those insecure types who would always get off to making other people feel small. He was your standard 8th grade middleschool shiteater who deserved nothing but a good ass whooping, which unfortunately never came. However what did happen was I had started a rumor about him that I wish to not bring up, but it pretty much ruined his reputation and made him a laughing stock. He never found out it was me as far as I could tell, but from what I heard from my hometown while I went off to public school is that at our local public High School the rumor hadn’t stopped, and he turned into one of those quiet kids who never talked. Keep in mind, this kid literally had told my whole friend group to stop hanging out with me, so as far as I can tell this revenge was extremely justified in my mind. This may in fact be the prime suspect as he would most likely know where I live. I tried finding any sort of social media about him but nothing came up. This guy is a ghost and I have no idea what he has been up to.

Theory 4: Some complete stranger who I have no association with. Maybe this is just a genuine old school stalker who takes pride in picking out their prey from a random crowd. No one I have seen in this town for the past week has seemed particularly odd. The only one that comes to mind was this weird cashier at 7/11 who seemed particularly in love with his job. He may have some form of asperger's syndrome or just maybe he just takes pride in being a cashier but he was always very polite with his customers when he had been interacting with them. I had gone in to get a soda from the fountain and as the store was empty he had asked me:

“Hey is that all you're getting”

I said “Yeah this is all”

So he continues “Oh well congratulations! It’s free!”

I thought, sweet a free soda, this guy is the shit. I thanked him a ton as he was smoking a cigarette outside and I said “Have a good one” and left. Now I know what all of you must be thinking. This is definitely the guy. He’s a fucking cashier for crying out loud! Well, I am just not sure. This guy was probably in his thirties, seemed extremely grateful for his low end job, and just seemed content with what he had. He didn’t strike me as a stalker, but then again I haven’t been back to the store since so he maybe still be there or not there at all. Time will tell. I might have to stop by tomorrow and do a little more investigating.

As we speak it is 11:00 pm again, and I am staring out my hotel window scrolling through reddit. I am still dreading the moment I see a car with flashing high beams pull into the parking lot, so I will probably just be looking out my window all night again. I will post more updates if necessary. I appreciate you all, bye for now.

Edit 12:43 am: I'm reading all your comments guys and just so you guys know I can't get ahold of a gun as easily as most of you think. I live in a state where that shit does not fly the best think I have right now is pepper spray and baseball bat.

Edit: 1:37 am: Call me a lunatic but I left my room to get some fresh air. I couldn't stand being in this small ass hotel room one more second. I was bugging out like crazy though. Every person I saw seemed like a threat to me. I started talking with this one guy in the hotel lobby. Says he's been traveling from state on some sort of self indulged journey across the country. I asked him if he has any experiences with stalkers and he told me that he had been receiving anonymous calls a couple years back of from some guy. I asked if he has ever encountered one in his backyard or anything and he just looked at me funny. I explained to him the situation and he wished me the best of luck. Nothing out of the ordinary but it was nice to have some real human interaction while I am losing my mind.

Edit: 1:46 am: Alright one of the janitors must be fucking with me. I spent the last 10 minutes searching for my phone and asked someone outside my room to call it for me. I listened for the ringing and its in the fucking safe and the password is not the one they gave me. What the fuck?! This is fucking ridiculous! Whoever fucking did this is going to get torn a new one. I'm going to the manager right now to get this sorted out.

Edit 2:08 am: I'm demanding a different room. I am not staying in that same fucking room one more second. The whole staff is in there now trying to figure out the safe pass word. Meanwhile the manager is looking for the janitors who have been in my room to ask what the fuck they were thinking. Fuck this. I'm tired, I'm worried, and now I just lost my fucking phone. FUCK!

Edit 2:24 am: Its not the garage code guys I checked. Even if it was why would it be and how would the fucking stalker even get into my hotel room let alone rewire my safe?

Edit 2:26 am: Guys I'm not leaving the hotel ok I already paid the money to stay here I dont have any other place to go thats not 100 miles away. I have no car, I got here in an uber car and atleast here there is over a hundred people staying here. The stalker is not gonna come into a hotel full of people.

Edit 2:40 am: Ok now you guys got me worried. I'm sitting in my hotel room, all alone with no phone. No way to call an uber. No way to call the police. I'm starting to think one of the janitors got bribed to do this. I now not only have no way of driving away from here, but I have no way on contacting any family or anyone for that matter of getting me away from the hotel. I'm going to wait another 45 minutes and if they don't open the safe I am demanding they call an uber for me and I'm driving the hell out of here.

Edit 2:53 am: Someone just knocked on the door saying the safe is open. I told them alright and then they asked me to come get it. I asked him if he can slip it under the door but he said I need to go get it myself. I told him I would in a couple minutes and that he'd be waiting. I don't know what to do guys you're all fucking with my mind.

Edit 3:10 am: The man said that my phone is in the main lobby if I want it. I am on my laptop next to my window and I could have sworn out of the corner of my eye I saw a car flashing its high beams. I don't know if I should hold out till morning or get my phone and leave...

Edit 3:14 am: Guys I am not waiting until 3:24 for this guy to fucking come into my room and jump me. I am packing and getting the fuck out of here. I'll keep you guys posted on mobile when I get my phone back.

Edit 3:16 pm: Alright guys I'm staying a friends place for right now. Just to clarify when I said not a trace of DNA was found I meant that there was nothing that was found to trace this guy back. Like a glove or figure prints on the garage key pad. The police did not do a full investigation obviously. The guy still hasn't been found. My neighbors have told me no one has been back to the house and my parents are currently staying at my aunt's down south. I got my phone back and there was a missed call from some guy named Nick Sullivan. Whats strange his name was never put in my contacts. I have never met anybody named Nick Sullivan in my life and I don't know how it was in there. I tried calling back and it just went to voicemail. Creepy shit none the less. Maybe I'm just paranoid I don't know. I'll see if I can make another update tonight. Bye for now.

Edit 4:24 pm: I just posted an album on imgur of pictures I took yesterday when I went back to my house. See for yourselves.

Album

[mckrystern-mcgorman]

Here’s an essay I had to write for English. Enjoy.

Hero Essay

“In a world. . .

With no bravery. . . 

There is only one who can save us. . .”

*queue dramatic music*

“BRAVEMAN! The man who is brave!”

The TV screen illuminated the dark room. My sister, sitting on the couch with a book in hand, scoffs at me.

“You’re watching Braveman again? You know that’s not real. No one could ever be like that. ‘Bravery’ or whatever isn’t real.”

“It’s a good movie,” I say. “Dad likes it.”

“Yeah well I think it’s stupid,” she rolls her eyes. “Why don’t you read something? Something real? Like the encyclopedias. You haven’t even gotten to the letter K yet.”

I shake my head and turn back to the screen. I watch as Braveman speaks in front of a group of people and talks to strangers he doesn’t know. The thought of speaking to someone outside of my family is. . . horrifying. How does someone do that? Shaking someone’s hand? Being where everyone can see you? I wished and longed to have his powers. I glanced back at my sister. She was right. Bravery isn’t real. There’s no way I could be brave. 

I woke up curled up on the floor. The credits to Braveman were scrolling on the TV. I must have fallen asleep. I looked back at the couch. It was empty. 

“Must’ve gone to bed,” I mumbled to myself. “I should do the same.” I started to turn off the TV when I accidentally hit the channel button, redirecting me to the new channel. I started to slide my hand to the correct button when something caught my attention.

“We have decided it would be best for us as a community if we returned to traditions from before the epidemic of 2020.” My eyes widened. Was this really what I was hearing? I turned it up to be sure. The computer-reporter began again, “Beginning the first of August, our community will go back to having in-person schooling and work programs, and social interaction will be restored.”

I felt my jaw drop. 2020? That was the year my grandma was born! I thought. We’re going back to a lifestyle from over 70 years ago? I ran to my parents room. 

“Mom! Dad! Check out the news!” I yelled as I burst into their room and woke them up. “Turn on the TV! Turn it on!”

“Gosh, Olivia!” My mom said.  “You almost scared the life out of me!” She sat up and rubbed her eyes. “What’s so important?” I suddenly realized how rude I had been.

 “I’m sorry,” I started to back out of the room. “Maybe it’s not that important.” My dad grabbed the remote and clicked on the TV. The news was still going.

“There have been many studies over the past 10-15 years about the pros and cons of social interaction. Although keeping to yourself was once very needed to prevent the spread of a deadly virus, our recent studies have shown that being around people is crucial for healthy development of the brain.” 

“What is this?” my mom interrupted. “Are we supposed to believe -”

“Shh.” my dad quieted her. He had a very serious look on his face.

“What do you mean shh? I have-”

“Shhh!” he insisted. My mom stared at him in disbelief. I watched as his face changed from serious and confused to shocked and surprised. 

“Ever since 2020, our medication has provided our brains the stimulation we need, but recent studies have shown that actual social interaction is far more effective and will save millions of dollars every year.” 

I think of the pill that our entire family takes everyday. It’s always been so routine, I’ve never questioned it. 

“It’s good for your brain.” I recall my dad telling me once. “Take it every morning and you’ll be good to go.” That was always enough of an explanation for me. I never knew it was to replace something we were lacking. 

As my mom began to realize what was going on, she began to look terrified. My dad also looked scared. But for some reason, I wasn’t scared. I felt. . . excited? I didn’t know what I was feeling. It wasn’t fear. It wasn’t bad at all. It was something I had never felt before. . .

It has been 3 months since I saw the news about returning to an old lifestyle. 4 days until the first of August. Pretty much everything on TV has been about this lifestyle. Real people have been on TV recently instead of the typical computer-voice. They stutter and their hands shake. I can’t imagine how scary being in front of a camera would be, nonetheless one where the entire country - maybe the entire world - sees you. 

We have been given study materials on the old lifestyle. It’s mostly made up of pictures from old, traditional classrooms where there were over 20 students in one room at once. That blew my mind. The most people I’ve ever been in a room with at once is 5. And that’s a lot for someone my age. There were pictures of the once-busy streets of New York, the area flooded with cars and people. I knew life was different 70 years ago, but I had never known about any of this. The only history we had been taught was that there was a disease that led to a safer community where everyone stayed at home. That’s all that I’ve ever known. That’s how I grew up. That’s how my parents grew up. And that’s how their parents grew up. My deceased grandpa, who was 8 in 2020, was the last one in my family that could’ve remembered anything from the old lifestyle, but he’s gone.

As soon as it was decided to stay indoors, anything about being out of our houses was taken out of the education system in order to make sure everyone lived indoors. Food and medication was delivered to houses. Everyone worked from home. Now, the people who once wrote at-home curriculum would become teachers. Those who helped develop medications and prepared diets designed specifically for every person would become doctors. Anyone who was still in school would remain a student, but attend school with everyone else.

I was going into my junior year and my sister was going into her senior year. She was terrified. She broke down in tears and my parents had to order a special medication to calm her down. I, however, was not scared. I didn’t know what I was. As I thought this over, the movie Braveman flashed through my head. Brave? I thought. Am I. . . brave? I thought of the feeling inside of me. I wanted to go to school. I was excited to see the streets filled with people. But I remembered what my sister told me. No. I told myself. I can’t be brave. Brave isn’t real.

I woke up to the sun shining through my window. The blinds used to always be closed, but I’ve been keeping them open to get used to the sunlight. It was bright and warm, it felt unnatural. . . even though it was the only natural light there was. I put on the new clothing that had been delivered to my house yesterday morning. Jeans, tall black socks, a blue polo shirt, and a new pair of shoes. My sister had a similar outfit, but a yellow shirt. There was also a care-package sent for all of us. On the outside of the box, there was a list that read:

Contents:

1 girl’s junior school outfit - Olivia

1 girl’s senior school outfit - Chelsea

2 backpacks (includes laptop, notebook, and 2 pencils each)

1 women's work attire - Victoria

1 men’s work attire - Ben

4 nametags - Ben, Victoria, Chelsea, Olivia

4 personal cell phone

4 instruction guides

4 personal sunscreen bottles - prolonged sun exposure may cause irritation. Please apply every 2 hours to avoid sunburn

1 anxiety pill - Chelsea

4 medication pills - THIS IS YOUR LAST DOSAGE

I got dressed and applied the sunscreen. Whatever a sunburn was did not sound pleasing. The sunscreen was oily and greasy but it smelled nice. I dropped the pill into my palm and took a deep breath. For some reason knowing this was the last one was. . . relieving, almost. I had a good feeling about today. I popped my head back and swallowed it, feeling it as it made its way down my throat. 

“The bus is here!” my mom shouted from across the house. I slid the sunscreen into my pocket, grabbed my instruction book and tossed it in my bag, threw the bag over my shoulders, and ran to the door. My sister came out of her room with a worried expression on her face. I stopped and turned around towards her. 

“Hey, it’ll be okay.” I reassured her. She tried to smile at me, but I could tell she was still upset. I skipped through the door and smiled big at my dad. 

“Excited?” he asked.

“Yeah!” I said quickly, maybe a little too quickly based on the shocked expression on his face.

“Well that’s good!” he said and he straightened his tie. “Let’s hope today goes well. . .” I could hear the uncertainty in his voice. 

I got to the door of the bus and it slid open. I took a deep breath and stepped on, my dad trailing shortly behind me. There were 2 other families on the bus. I swallowed deep and I walked through the aisle, glancing at the other people on the bus. There was another girl with a blue shirt on and I smiled at her. She looked at the ground. I thought back to the instruction book. Seat B3. I remembered. I found it, sat down quickly, and eagerly tapped my foot, waiting for the bus to move. When the rest of my family was seated, we began to roll forward. My sister had the window seat, but she slumped her head down and looked at her feet. I looked past her to see the amazing outside world, the sun shining through the tinted glass.

“Passengers,” the auto-driver’s robotic voice said, “welcome to your first day of our social lifestyle. If at any point you need help, please address your handbook or simply select the blue application on your new cell phones.”

I remembered my cell phone in my pocket. My family’s contact information accessible in the yellow application, my personal information in the red application, and help from a government official in the blue application. I glanced over at my mom who was worryingly flipping through her instruction book. My dad was looking out the window like I was, with a pleasant expression on his face. My sister was still slumped in her seat, looking at her shoes. She looked up at me and I smiled at her. I watched her close her eyes, take a deep breath, and smile at me too, this time more genuine. 

The bus came to a slow stop.

“Students attending freshman, sophomore, junior, and senior year, this is your destination.”

I stood up excitedly and looked at my parents. My mom cracked a wry smile at me and my dad waved me goodbye. I smiled big and walked to the front of the bus, my sister slowly trailing behind me, along with the rest of the nervous children about to go to school. 

I stepped off the steps of the bus and looked up at the large building in front of me. GRANDBURY HIGH SCHOOL was carved into the front of the large, stone entrance. The students gathering in a group behind me were also gazing at the building we had never seen before. I glanced at the girl with the blue shirt and read her name tag. “REBECCA JONES”, it read. Rebecca. I thought. I’m gonna try to be friends with Rebecca. I decided. She realized I was looking at her so I tried smiling at her again. Slowly, a small smile formed on her face. She began to walk forward, so I followed. 

There were kiosks set up for us to check in. I walked up to one and scanned my nametag. It buffered for a second then displayed a message. WELCOME, OLIVIA BARREN. PLEASE REPORT TO ROOM 127 - ENGLISH. A map showed the school hallways, with a green line leading me down the hallway to the right. The phone in my pocket began to vibrate, so I pulled it out of my pocket. The screen lit up with the map displaying on the kiosk. I followed the green line displayed on my phone until I reached room 127. 

I walked into the room. There were already a few students sitting in their seats. We were all wearing a blue shirt, except for one lady at the front of the room who was wearing a maroon shirt. Must be the teacher. I thought to myself. I walked through the aisles of desks until I found my name. OLIVIA B it read on the tiny screen on the corner of the desk. I hung my backpack on the hook on the back of the chair, and sat down, then remembered what I had read in the instruction book. I scanned my name tag. The screen glowed green, indicating I had been marked as present.

The room began to fill up, but it remained silent. Everyone kept their eyes low, even the teacher. I watched Rebecca walk in, but she didn’t see me.  When everyone’s desks had green glowing where their names were, the teacher stood at the center of the front of the room and cleared her throat. 

“Hello, class.” she was sweating and her hands were shaky, but she took a deep breath and continued. “Uhh...I am Ms.Greene.” I felt like chuckling at her silly color name, but I refrained. “I will be teaching english. This will be the first class you will report to every morning.” She paused and collected her thoughts. She cleared her throat again. “Is, uh, is there anyone who would like to introduce themselves?”

Somehow the silence became even quieter. Everyone was stiff in their seats, staring at their desks. The only thing you could hear was the tapping of my foot, which was rapidly speeding up. Everyone sat there for what seemed like forever. Ms.Greene stared at her feet and waited for anything to happen.

The feeling inside of me that I had been feeling all day grew even larger. Scenes from Braveman flashed in my head. Talking in front of people. Shaking hands. Being brave. This. I thought, but it felt more like I was screaming in my head. This is it. This is your chance. Your chance to be brave. I took a deep breath and I clutched the edge of my desk. What are you waiting for? I continued to hold still. What are you waiting for?!

Suddenly, I stood up. The entire class stared at me. My teacher looked startled and terrified. Rebecca looked at me with her mouth agape. The kid next to me looked as if he had seen a ghost.

“My name is Olivia,” I say. “Olivia Barren.” I look around the room and a strange, proud happiness fills me. “It’s nice to meet all of you.” I smile big and sit back down.

That was it. I thought. That was bravery.

[aurimeanswind]

VIDEO GAMES—Sunday Chats (10-29-17)

There are a lot of video games, and I haven’t done questions in a minute, so those too. Let’s get to it!

ExtraLife 2017

I wanted to throw a PSA in here that Irrational Passions, my “conglomerate” is throwing together our big special ExtraLife show for 2017 on November 11th, starting at 12pm Eastern Time, and we’ll be playing video games and live streaming them for 24 hours from then. It’ll be live over on twitch.tv/IrrationalPassions and myself and Roger Pokorny threw together a little announcement video, since a TON of guests will be there with us! You should check it out!

That’s really it for stuff I wanted to get out of the way, not games and questions!

What’s on Tap

Two things, that are not games, that I want to mention.

Stranger Things Season 2 is out now on Netflix and I have watched all nine episodes of it. It’s very excellent, and you should take the time to watch the series. It’s fun, and funny, and tense, and has a lot of great relationships between characters.

And actually, above all the amazing things to come out this week in the media world, my favorite, hands down is the new cover album from Ninja Sex Party, featuring Tupperware Remix Party (TWRP). It’s called Under the Covers Vol 2 and it’s legitimately incredible. Easily my album of the year, and I’m listening to it right now while writing this. Dan Avidan’s voice is perfect.

That is all on that front.

The Evil Within 2

So I finished The Evil Within 2! It’s great, very fun, very well made, very polished, and has some excellent mechanics.

I think the weakest aspect of the game really is the story, and specifically in that the performances of the characters. There is just not any one really well done character save for the two major villains of the game.

I actually rolled right into New Game Plus right after finishing it too, and that’s been fun since you just get so much extra points and parts to upgrade your guns and abilities, so you turn into a powerhouse pretty quickly. 

It reminds me a lot of Dead Space 2 weirdly enough, just not quite as excellent. Regardless, it’s still a really excellent game and worth a look, especially if you at all liked the first.

Super Mario Odyssey

Joy.

This game is just purely joyous, and unabashedly so. It just takes delight in its own mechanics and creativity.

It’s just a massive breath of fresh air, in a similar way to how Zelda was, but in a totally different way as well. 

Nintendo has laid out some stellar stuff this year, and Mario is no exception. While Mario has never held the same special place as Nintendo’s other properties for me, this one channels all the best parts of Mario and his lineage and brings that glee to light. It’s excellent, and I’m sure you didn’t need me to tell you that.

Questions!

Look for my Tweet with the hashtag #SundayChats that I shoot out Sunday afternoons. Respond with your question, and I’ll answer it here on Sunday Chats!

Okay, but I mean is this—

Um... Okay. Yeah dude. You do you. Glad you got a Switch and the Mario and stuff...

But really, a lot of playing Mario for me has been falling back in love with the Nintendo Switch as a platform. I’m curious what you think of it Logan! Glad you seem to be enjoying yourself!

No. For sure not. I also didn’t really love their E3 showing, so who knows. I think Sony is gonna have some cool stuff to show, but I think the “Second half of E3″, if that is gonna be anywhere outside of E3, is going to be at PSX, especially after The Last of Us 2 drop last year. With Uncharted fully done now, we know Naughty Dog is likely all hands on deck with Last of Us Part 2. I cannot wait, with that in mind, even though it’s likely still 2019. But I think PSX will see the reveal of Sucker Punch’s next game, so I don’t know what that leaves for Paris Games week.

This is a great question! It’s hard to pin down, and I’m honored to say some of my favorite things I’ve read this year have been on IrrationalPassions.com. But outside of that, I wanna give a shoutout to Jason Schreier’s unveil of what went on with EA and Visceral, from this very week.

It’ll be in the Checklist section, but it’s kind of the first of these big exposés I’ve sat down and read all the way through in one sitting, and it was phenomenal. It really opened my eyes to the different kinds of struggles that studios can run into that I had no perception of at all. It’s a fantastic read, and an even better story.

I mean, yes. And no.

Taking into account that I know you, and I know you don’t really like 3D games and games of that ilk, of course, yeah I get it. Taking those big ones out, games like SteamWorld Dig 2, Stardew Valley, HiveSwap, Shantae, and more can’t carry a year like the heavy hitters in the 3D space. But I think you have to take that step back and look at the wider "games” as a whole. 

To use me as an example, I don’t like Wolfenstein nor do I plan on playing the new one, or Battlefront 2, or Call of Duty World War 2, those are the big games that don’t click with me, but that doesn't mean those games can’t be incredible, and just because I don’t like them doesn’t mean they’re not great or incredible, but my appreciation of them will be different. But that’s my critic’s perspective.

I think that’s okay, but I’d encourage you to keep trying those games you typically don’t like and search for something in them that you can find and enjoy. I’ll try the betas for Battlefront 2 and CoDWW2 and try and try and look for something I like even if I can’t find it, because I’d rather waste my time looking for the good then take the easy road of assuming the bad.

But eh. That’s just me being a goody two shoes as always.

Yeah, it does! I would love to see that extend out to Bandai Namco! Getting games like Dark Souls, and the upcoming Code Vein on Switch would be excellent. But more over, I think they’d be shrewd, and quiet, like the Bethesda team up. Bandai Namco isn’t the biggest publisher, not even top three, but it covers another niche of games that Nintendo can draw to its platform. Those kinds of players maybe are to chopped on what system they play on, just how enjoyable that experience is. Going the obscure route has worked so well for them, and I think this could work to.

Plus I really want a Dark Souls remaster/re-release with some new features/better frame rate, and it being on Switch may be even better.

Princess Peach, Princess Zelda, and Samus Aran. 

We’d have tea and crumpets, and discuss cute color combinations and space ships, because I think all four of us would have some broad, sweeping opinions on all of the above.

Another good one, a bit more serious, is Nathan Drake, Marcus Fenix, and... Well, Samus Aran again.

Can I just have a date dinner with Samus Aran?

It’s been crazy weird dude. I wish the world wasn’t in as rough shape as it was :/

Uhg.

Fuck.

This is a great question Miranda, but god fuck all of this.

Okay.

A wolf.

And hear me out, because the wolf would probably kill me a lot slower.

But the same shit with Octopi that is with spiders, which I hate. Octopi got too many legs, and I just don’t wanna fuck with it. And it’d be all slimy. And I know both would ultimately kill me, because Octopi do NOT fuck around, but I can like, imagine the Wolf is a cute fucking doggo and be slightly less sad about it.

Also like, then I’d get to see a wolf, which I’ve always wanted to see, and I never want to see the sea-spider for as long as I live.

He is a v. v. handsome boy Cameron and you should be proud.

I’d say at least two customs, and one robo.

Because I know me.

I’m not selfish.

Save some Robot for the other kids.

I think it’s definitely up there. I love it for sure. I love that it’s doing something different on Netflix, and blending this weird nostalgia and referential material into a really cohesive and well made original thing with its own ideas and things to say.

And these latest season has a ton of Ghostbusters so I’m a fan.

This is so rad! For folks curious, here is the referenced article:

https://www.polygon.com/2017/10/28/16563612/destiny-2-deaf-clan-leviaithan-raid-calus

I just love this shit. I hadn’t seen it, but it shows the tenacity and ingenuity of players from all walks of life. What I’d really like to see, and it’d be hard to set up, but having all six players on six screens in the same room so the Shadow Realm folks  didn’t need to say anything, and the ones outside could just look and know. It’d be super rad, and we may be able to do this at ExtraLife, but we’ll see.

I love making new and original solutions to problems, and just like I said with the whole jargon-discussion when we played the raid, this is this team making their own jargon for the raid.

The Checklist

The Collapse of Visceral’s Ambitious Star Wars Game - Jason Schreier - Kotaku - https://kotaku.com/the-collapse-of-viscerals-ambitious-star-wars-game-1819916152

This is the first one of these I’ve actually really read, at least since Klepek’s last one I would have read. And it was fascinating. I have so many thoughts and feelings on this piece, and I know Schreier has a book out about them, and did one for Mass Effect earlier this year, but this is the first one I’ve ever really sat down and read. And it’s phenomenal. And eye opening.

Orc Slavery Made me Quit Shadow of War - Matthew Gault - Motherboard - https://motherboard.vice.com/en_us/article/bjve9q/middle-earth-shadow-of-war-orc-slavery-lord-of-the-rings

This is so, so, sooooo good. I haven’t really read anything on Motherboard before, but being a close sibling to Waypoint, which has skyrocketed to my favorite video game site on the internet this week, I will tune in more after this. Shoutout to OK Beast Podcast episode 65 for bringing this up and reading an excerpt from this. It really hooked me.

Inside the Sexual Misconduct Allegations Rocking NEOGaf - Patrick Klepek - Waypoint - https://waypoint.vice.com/en_us/article/qv384d/inside-the-sexual-misconduct-allegations-rocking-neogafs-last-48-hoursd

This is a weird story for sure. And I wish i could talk to Patrick about it. It’s invasive, but it’s also incredibly well reported, and I think clears up a lot of the misconceptions in the situation. There are no biases in Patrick’s writing. It’s really excellent, and help me get a grasp of what went on on Gaf. And I appreciate it.

Whew, good to get in the swing of things again. I’ll say, we are two weeks out from ExtraLife, and I am going to assume there will not be a Sunday Chats that day. Sorry in advance, but I will try to get my “Alex-Asks-A-Question” style Sunday Chats done like normal next week.

But it’s been a fucking crazy month, and I am so happy to see all the hard work I put in this month come to fruition, and the next big thing is that ExtraLife extravaganza. I hope to see you all watching.

But until then

keep it real.