#who knew writing a dissertation could be so fun

[blackmetalbats]

I figure you shouldn't really go into specifics in case of there being anything identifiable in it but I would gladly read about how your dissertation is going. Also, any particular favorite piece or subject from the body of myth?

i was planning on posting anyway about my dissertation because i literally cant shut up about it BUT i will definitely answer as much as i can for now (im writing this in my break from researching for it lmao)

[for context: my dissertation is about the view on scotland and scottish people in the lancelot-graal cycle, which is one specific rewriting of arthurian material of the middle of the 1200s]

so with that out of the way ill say favourite piece: definitely the last one of the cycle, mort le roi artu (death of king arthur) that is incredibly gritty and sad for a medieval romance. it is also increbily fucked up but that was fairly standard lol

than ill dooooo favourite character: if we're talking the whole body of arthurian literature i'd say perceval, because his quest is so fucking pointless and i love him. no its actually not pointless, but he sets out to search for the grail and ends up in an endless search of his identity and never gets to the grail because nobody tells him things so he doesnt know what hes supposed to do. poor him. but if we're talking just the lancelot-graal cycle i would say mordred, because hes much more explored here than in previous romances and hes such an interesting character. for those who dont know mordred is arthur's incestuous son, and also the one who kills him.

i could tell you guys s o m a n y m o r e t h i n g s !!! but i dont wanna be too much of a yapper ig. if anybody's interested i will be very happy to talk about this more and answers questions!!!!

[misseviehyde]

De-Mentor

Sarah couldn’t be prouder of her younger sister Annabelle. She was definitely following in her big sister’s footsteps and living up to the family expectations. Head of the student council, a committed feminist and a straight A student, she had cultivated a happy and positive lifestyle just like Sarah. Just like her big sister she was also a vegan and she was deeply into politics.

Annabelle would often tell Sarah that she was her inspiration.  As a staffer for a local left-wing political organisation, Sarah had graduated top of her class and was now a rising star. She was making a difference. Annabelle looked up to her sister and wanted to be just like her once she graduated. She already had plans to become an environmental activist and work in the charity sector, something their rich but radical parents fully supported.  She first needed to complete her journalism degree, but once that was done she was ready to do her part to help the world.

The only thing Annabelle worried about was that she was sometimes getting stuck in an echo-chamber.  That was why she had tracked down her older sisters high-school bully Melody and as part of her dissertation was now interviewing her. She wanted to understand why Melody had bullied her sister and also what drove an evil bitch like her.

Melody was gorgeous and pretty. Her parents were super rich and she had been athletically talented.  Why would someone who had everything be so cruel?  Annabelle thought there had to be some deep reason, something she could discover and write about. Perhaps Melody was unhappy with her own life, perhaps she had changed since school? Maybe she would even want to apologise to Sarah and make up for all the bad, evil things she had done or said.

Sarah had told Annabelle horror stories about the rich, bratty, cheerleader and her clique. How Melody had taunted, teased and manipulated the school. Everyone had been afraid of her.  Annabelle wasn’t sure what to expect once she began interviewing the bully, but she had to try.

***

“Regrets?  No I don’t have any regrets. I fucking LOVED bullying your pathetic sister and making her my little bitch. Highschool was such fun, I could do whatever the fuck I wanted, and no one could stop me. Mmmmmh, it still makes me wet just thinking about it.”

Annabelle was listening back to her recordings from todays interview. She could barely believe it as she listened to the evil poison dripping out of Melody’s bitchy mouth. She couldn’t believe how open and honest the other woman was being, but it made her feel physically sick to listen to.

And yet…

Melody’s voice was aptly melodic. Soft and seductive, full of wicked intonation and glee.  The recorder seemed to greedily suck it up.  Annabelle knew she would end up listening to it again just to hear that voice… that damn pretty voice.

“You should be glad you weren’t at school when I was. I would have bullied you too. I mean, you’re so fucking pathetic - you dress like Sarah, ape her mannerisms, you even sound like that dumb bitch. Aren’t you embarrassed that you basically are your sisters mini-me?  Wouldn’t you rather be your own person?”

In the recording, Annabelle stuttered some more questions, but Melody was only interested in talking about what she wanted to talk about.

“You know, you have a decent bone structure and you’re prettier than your sister. You could be hot if you wore more makeup - dressed a little sluttier. You should try it. You should try acting more like ME and seeing if you like it.  You should live a little, eat some red meat… be a bad girl. It wouldn’t hurt for you to be more of a bitch.”

Annabelle re-wound the recording and listened again… then again… then again.

There was something about Melody’s voice. The poision in those words was soooo fucking hot somehow. Just listening to another girl admit she enjoyed being an evil bitch, that she revelled in her bratty bullying nature made Annabelle think strange thoughts.

You should try acting like a bitch.  You should eat more red meat, you should dress like a slut.

Again and again Annabelle listened to the words. They made her body tingle and made her think things she had never thought before.  Was she just a boring clone of her sister? Was she just a pathetic copy of Sarah, too afraid to think independently and be herself?

You should try acting more like ME.  Eat more red meat…

Annabelle felt her mouth salivate suddenly at the thought of a juicy burger. She hadn’t eaten meat in six years, she had decided it was immoral to eat meat. Eat more red meat. Grabbing her keys and her purse from the counter she snuck out of the front door, Melody’s voice still echoing in her mind.

****

The queue in Five Guys wasn’t very long and Annabelle’s hands trembled as she lifted the hamburger to her salivating mouth. She’d watched them fry the thick patty, the meat sizzling and juices running and now she greedily bit down and moaned, actually making an orgasmic gasp of pleasure, as she tasted the meat.

Fuck… yes…

Mmmmmmmh, Annabelle chewed - a damn seeming to burst inside her and a wicked smile growing on her face as she took another delicious bite. She could do whatever the fuck she wanted. She was all that mattered. If she wanted meat, she’d have meat.  Not too much of course, she had to look after her figure… but even now she could feel the protein filling her up, causing her body to react.

Sarah was short, underdeveloped, anaemic… well Annabelle wasn’t going to fall into the same trap. She was a meat eater now and she loved it. Breaking the taboo, doing something she knew was wrong… evil in fact… just made her feel so fucking… yummy. 

Suddenly she felt guilt. What the fuck was wrong with her? One meeting with Melody and she ready to turn her back on five years of being a vegan. No… this was just a one off, she instantly regretted this and wouldn’t be doing it again.

But deep inside Annabelle knew she didn’t regret it. She was hungry now. Hungry for more.

*******

Annabelle sat on the bus, the recording of Melody’s perfect voice oozing evil into her ears. She’d missed her stop ages ago, now the bus was heading into town - but that was okay. Annabelle wanted to go shopping.

“The first step to being a bitch has always been to look the part. It’s important that you work out, eat healthy, tone up your body. Join a gym, make sure your ass is perfect. You need to show off your body and be proud of it. Clothing is next. You can never dress down, every outfit has to be carefully chosen. You have to look hot all the time. Makeup, nails, hair, full outfit - focus on getting those right and you’ll start to be seen as popular and hot. Personality wise you need to be fake friendly to other girls, but make it clear you’re the bitch… the boss. Bully them if you have to, pick on the weaker ones and make them yours - then bring down the leaders until you’re the dominant Alpha. That’s how I ruled school when your pathetic Mom attended.”

Annabelle’s eyes rolled back in her head as strange visions burned through her mind. Visions that made her feel very good indeed. Smiling, she looked back down at her phone and began to cancel all of her charity subscriptions.  Annabelle had plenty of money, she was a careful saver and she donated most of it to charity.  Now though she had a better use for the money. For herself.

Join a gym, make sure your ass is perfect… every outift has to be carefully chosen.

Annabelle’s mouth repeated Melody’s words without even realising it as she stepped off the bus and walked into the gym.

Make sure your ass is perfect…

***

Annabelle admired her new reflection in the mirror as Melody’s droning voice continued to blare out of the speakers behind her.  She’d thrown out most of her old clothes and adapted now to the short skirts, tight dresses, knee stockings and heavy makeup that she had come to prefer. She no longer looked innocent. She looked like a teasing bitch. 

She looked like Belle.

Annabelle had started to go by Belle a few days ago when she’d decided she needed a hotter name to go with her hotter look.  Her gym membership was starting to pay off - she’d really toned up already. Maybe the diet of meat and protein shakes was paying off too. Even her boobs looked slightly bigger.

She practically salivated as she regarded herself narcissistically in the mirror. “Fuck yes. I'm so much hotter than I used to be. I feel like I'm finally becoming my own person. I’m finally breaking free of my dumb sister.”

Belle's waste paper bin was piled full of books and jotters. She’d needed more room for her makeup and this dumb crap was just in the way. She'd torn down her greenpeace posters and torn her signed photo of Greta Thurnburg in half. She couldn't give a shit about that stuff anymore.

She was rearranging her life. Plastic bags lined the wall, ready to be ditched. They were full of the fugly outfits she used to wear. A lot of them were Sarah's hand-me-downs. Belle wouldn't be seen dead in something that dumb bitch used to wear.

Melody's voice droned on repeat, filling Belle with the delicious thoughts she'd come to enjoy so much. She had an audio file of Melody's greatest sayings. She loved listening to her.

Your sister was always such a fucking loser, but you seem different. Have you done something with your hair? You look fucking hot babe. Those clothes look really good on you too. You know, I'm kinda rich. How about I support you in getting a new wardrobe, a new look? Start dressing like a popular girl and things will happen. You do wanna be popular right? It's more important than being nice. Popularity is ALL that matters.

Belle applied more lip gloss and repeated her new mentors words. Yes… popularity was all that mattered. She couldn't believe she hadn't seen it until now. She couldn't believe she had spent so many years trying to be a Sarah, when she should have been a Melody.

But she was so far behind. She was eighteen and had never been popular before. All those years wasted. All that time she could have been positioning herself to be the hottest girl at school.

She had another session with Melody tomorrow. She couldn't wait. She wanted to learn more.

***

Belle should have felt nervous. But she was just excited. The fact that Jason already had a girlfriend just made this even hotter.

Melody had told her it would feel this way. Her desire to get fucked was both physical and mental. A hunger inside her she needed to fulfil.

She had cummed night after night, rubbing her tight pussy and squirting to the sound of Melody's voice - but she needed the real thing. To truly become Belle she needed to experience cock. She needed to get railed like a bitch.

“Annabelle… ohhh shit we shouldn't be doing this. I didn't know you were like this…”

Belle squeezed his cock, digging her sharp new acrylic fingernails in slightly and making him moan. “I told you… don't call me that. I'm Belle now… and we both know you don't want me to stop right?”

Belle was pumping Jason's big cock slowly up and down, her tiny hand somehow managing to wrap round the magnificent girth. His cock felt great in her hands. 

They had met at his house, everyone was out and Jason’s girlfriend Carlie was hanging out with her friends. 

Belle had chosen Jason because he was fit, sexually experienced, and the most popular boy at college.

“I want you to take my virginity Jason. I want you to fuck me.”

“You're a virgin? I… are you sure you want to do this? I mean we don't have to…”

“Mmmmmh. Does it look like I'm messing around here?” purred Belle as she sank to her knees and slid her hot wet mouth around his cock.

“Holy shit… I thought you were a good girl, a prude.”

Belle giggled. “Not anymore. I'm a dirty fucking slut now baby, and my tight virgin holes need pounding. I wanna learn everything about being a slut. Use my body and fuck my holes as deep as you like till I tell you to stop…”

Jason moaned as Belle resumed her sucking and he knew he was in for a great night…

***

At the dinner table, Sarah watched her sister in barely disguised horror. What the hell had happened to Annabelle?

The girl was eating meat. She had somehow convinced their parents to start eating meat again too, and now the three of them were sat eating juicy steaks whilst Sarah picked at her quinoa salad.

“Mmmmmh dont you fucking love how good this tastes Mom and Dad. You know - I thought vegans were meant to be thin, so it’s kind of mad that Sarah is so fucking fat even though she eats that plant based shit.”

Neither parent said anything, they just looked embarassed. What Sarah didn't know of course was that Belle had evidence their Dad was embezzling money from his company and their Mom was having an affair with the pastor. Their hypocrisy had given her total control of the house and Melody had taught Belle exactly how to leverage this to her advantage.

Sarah just couldn’t believe it. Her once smart, kind, feminist, vegan, sister was now a selfish, bratty bitch and a bully. She almost reminded Sarah of someone else, but she couldn't quite put her finger on it.

“Do you want some steak too Sarah?” giggled Belle as she deliberately tossed a piece onto her sisters plate and watched maliciously for a reaction.

Standing up Sarah pushed her chair under the table and glared at Belle. “What the hell has happened to you Annabelle? You're my sister but you're acting like a total bitch. Im not hungry right now, enjoy your meat.”

Storming off to Belle's laughter Sarah decided she had to act. Something had changed a few months ago to start Belle down this path, but what?

She let herself into her sisters room. It was unrecognisable. Designer clothes hung from racks, a sex toy lay discarded next to the bed… white stains on the bed sheet evidence of where Belle had orgasmed that morning. 

Makeup and perfume covered every available surface, lingerie was stuffed into drawers. How could she afford all this stuff?

Next to the bed was a pair of Bluetooth headphones. They were still connected to Belle's phone. Sarah slipped them on and pressed play.

You're a fucking bitch now Belle and it feels good. You exist now to bully girls like Sarah. You're my little mini-me and you love it. Keep cumming as you listen to my voice and imagine yourself become more evil and bratty. You don't care about anything but yourself anymore. You have become a perfect bitch.

Sarah ripped the headphones off with a gasp. That voice… that evil fucking voice. It was Melody. Her old bully Melody.

“So now you know the truth, sis” giggled a voice behind her and she spun to see Belle standing in the door. 

“Look at you. So fucking pathetic. I can't believe there was ever a time I wanted to be like you. Melody helped open my eyes and show me who I really am.”

Belle advanced into the room with a wicked grin. “Look at me Sarah. I'm so much better than you now. My pussy is tighter, my ass rounder, my boobs bigger. You're a fucking nobody. In a few months I'll have found a rich man to satisfy my needs… just like Melody did.”

“No Annabelle. She's brainwashed you. She always was persuasive, but somehow she's turned you into her puppet. You have to fight this, you have to resist. Can't you see what she is doing?”

Belle just giggled, “Get out of my room loser. I have Jason coming round and then I'm seeing Melody again. Nothing you can say can stop what I'm becoming. Nothing.”

Sarah walked out, tears in her eyes as Belle laughed again. 

Then she caught sight of her reflection in the mirror. She gasped at how evil and wanton she looked. She looked just like… just like Melody.

She's turned you into a puppet.

Belle gripped her temples. Had she just exchanged one role-model for another? Was she being played by Melody?

No one plays you. You're in control. You get to choose who you want to be.

“But this… this isn't who I wanted to be is it?”

The mirror seemed to shimmer and Bella saw herself as she used to be. Sweet, innocent, a little Sarah copy.

We can go back. Go back to how we were. 

Belle hesitated. 

She looked down at her sexy hands and ran them over her toned body. She remembered the taste of cock in her mouth, the feeling of getting fucked. She shivered as she recalled how good it felt to bully other people and get what she wanted.

No. There is no going back. I fucking LOVE being Belle. 

She laughed as she imagined Annabelle being destroyed, consumed and turned into her. She imagined innocent little Annabelle moaning in pleasure as Belle replaced her.  Yesss that’s right loser. You fucking love being me.  You fucking love being a bitch,

“Mmmmh, fuck Sarah AND fuck Melody. The only person who matters is me. I'm the only one who counts. I’m a fucking bitch and I want what Melody has. The power to make others do everything I want. I need that power and I’m going to get it.”

Laughing she opened her phone and messaged Jason.

She had a plan…

***

Belle moaned as Jason mounted her, his hands in her hair and his cock buried deep in her tight pussy.

“Yessss fuck me harder. Tell me how much better I am than everyone else. Tell me what a slut I am.”

Thwap thwap thwap. Sweat dripped down, Belle's sexy boob's bounced and wet smacks filled the air as Jason pounded Belle's incredible body.

She loved the feeling of him sliding in and out. She squeezed her fussy tight, feeling it grip his cock and make him moan. She threw her hips back so he could go even deeper.

In the last few weeks she’d gone from virgin to pornstar.

Jason didnt even bother to fuck his own girlfriend anymore. Life was brilliant. 

But something Sarah had said bothered Belle. That bit about being a puppet. Had Melody just turned her into an extension of her will? Was she still not really her own person?

“Fuck Belle. You're so much better than anyone else. I'd do anything for you. Anything.”

“Anything…?”

Belle's mind was full of ideas. She had a theory, she just needed to test it.

***

Slipping the headphones over Sarah's ears, Belle grinned as her sisters eyes flickered open. Jason was ready though.

He pinned Sarah down and stopped her from struggling as the specially edited tape Belle had made began to play. Melody's hypnotic voice flowed into Sarah's brain.

“You are worthless… pathetic… beta… loser… nothing… subservient… weak…”

Belle watched as her sister tried to fight, and then as her struggles began to slow and her eyes rolled up into her head, she tossed her the sex toy.

“I’m a dumb cunt that serves Belle. A dumb cunt that serves Belle. My little sister is better than me…”

As Sarah began to repeat the words Belle felt herself get wet. Soon there wouldn't be anything left of who Sarah had been. Melody's voice was the key and Sarah had hours of recordings.

She could make Melody pretty much say anything now…

***

Melody didn't remember much after drinking the juice that Belle had fetched for her. By the time she'd realised the little bitch had set her up it was too late.

Melody felt the gag in her mouth and the headphones jammed on her head. Her own voice was telling her things… things she couldn't resist.

She was telling herself that Belle was best. She was the Mistress that Melody needed to serve. Melody existed to serve Belle. She could no longer use her voice except to serve Belle. She could no longer use her voice against Belle. She was the puppet now and Belle was the Mistress. 

No… that wasn't right. Belle was the puppet Melody had created to torment and destroy her old victim Sarah. She wasn't the Mistress. Melody was. 

Only she wasn't. Melody's own voice was telling her that Belle was the Mistress now and Melody's voice was irresistible. She had worked hard to develop her natural powers and learn the mind conditioning techniques that allowed her to make others do what she wanted. She had loved the power.

In hindsight maybe it had been careless to let the girl take so many recordings. Now the power was hers.

No… not the girl.

Her Mistress…

Belle was the Mistress now and Melody was eager to serve her.

***

Belle cleared her throat and laughed with glee as whispered her corrupting words into her lovers ear. He groaned, his loyalty to his wife now totally destroyed as he fucked her deeper and she wrapped her legs around his waist.

“Yessss fuck me deeper Daddy… fuck me like a slut.”

She felt him respond, felt his mouth on her nipples… his thick powerful cock pistoning in and out of her responsive body.  She had cum on his cock twice already and could feel a third time approaching.

It was all so fucking intoxicating.

She had the power now and her voice was sexier and deeper. It had taken Melody very little time to teach her the techniques- she was a gifted student after all. 

And once she was sure she had fully mastered the power - that she could drip corruption into another person and shape them to her whims… her first victim had been Melody. She’d brainwashed her completely until her former mentors voice was entirely stripped of its power. Melody could no longer brainwash people.

Only Belle had that power now.

She could make people do whatever she wanted. Make boys suck dick, girls become bullies or losers… even change Sarah from her kind, loving sister into a cold hearted MAGA supporter - which she had done just for fun.

Her once socially liberal and kind sister was now a regressive cruel bitch just like Belle had wanted.  As for Jason - Belle had gotten bored of him at last. His reward for helping her had been to be programmed into a cocksucking sissy boy for her amusement whilst she began fucking his hunky Dad instead.

That was who was now deep inside her - his loyalty to his son and his wife replaced by an uncontrollable lust for Belle.

Perhaps one day she’d get bored of him too.  After all Belle was a bitch and she was the only one who mattered.

The student had become the teacher and no one was ever going to be better at it than Belle.

THE END

[megpricephotography]

Apparently, today (2nd Tuesday in June) is World Pet Memorial Day, so I thought I'd share some pictures... My dear old Barney, who passed away in May of 2023 aged 16.5 years. Truly, the best of friends, who accompanied me on so many adventures & helped me through the worst time of my life. I cannot imagine any of my 20s without this dog at my side.

Barney's 1st dog-pal, Delilah (mostly known as Dilly) the Cavalier King Charles Spaniel. She was born in 2002 & passed in 2013. She belonged to dad's family & Barney lived with her for the first few years I had him. What a fantastic little dog she was - the sort of pup who could go anywhere & was always so sweet & just happy. Those little paws of hers covered many miles over the years, although she was also entirely happy curled up on "her" chair all day.

Lyra & Hovis were border collies who belonged to my dad's SO. Lyra the little blue merle was very good friends with Barney, they loved running about together. Hovis wasn't the biggest fan of Barney, bless him but he was an absolutely sweet lad.

Tessa the German Shepherd Dog belonged to my best friend. She had been trained as a working dog for the military but seemed very happy to retire & spend her last few years as a pet! Excellent, 10/10 at scary barky faces but a lovely dog!

Not a dog... my little Elsie-cat, who we adopted in 2007 as an unnamed stray from a local rescue centre. She was such a great kitty & even came to live with me & my friends for my last year at uni. She helped us all write our final dissertations. She & Barney were good pals (she was The Boss of course!) for years. I was devastated to lose her aged 12.

And finally... Bertie, the border collie. He belonged to my beloved granddad (who sadly passed in 2011). Bertie was the unwanted "runt" of a litter born on a farm in the early '90s & he really should've been out working sheep but instead, he lived as a much loved but not much trained pet. He was wild! I was a small child at the time & I thought Bertie was the most fun animal in the entire world. By the age of 5 I knew I wanted my own border collie one day - because of Bertie. He's why I had Barney & have Flynn. Character wise, my Flynn reminds me a lot of old Bert, it makes me smile.

[pyjamaart]

Firewall!

(A warning before we start with this essay: This got really really long. So sorry about that. I also wrote this before watching a lot of the later episodes again, so if I get any facts wrong, assume I realize and correct my mistakes over the course of this monstrous dissertation on Mega Man Fully Charged. I also included some more pictures down there! Have fun reading! Also TW for implied self harm, but it's really mild this time.)

Hey everyone, welcome back to the next episode of "Mega Man essays with Jenny"! Oh hey, would you look at that, the essay even comes with a little picture attached to it. ;)

This time, the title of this piece was also inspired by a song. I recently discovered the band TWRP. Their newest album, "Digital Nightmare" is a must-listen for all robot enjoyers such as myself. It's really really good. "Firewall" is a song that immediately made me think of Fireman and Waveman. Fireman building up a wall and not letting anyone get close, only for Waveman to come by and break it apart with a wrecking ball of love? Truly beautiful.

With that out of the way... I'm glad I finally get to talk about these two, since I didn't get the opportunity to write something about them on my last few posts. I gotta say that some of my headcanons for them kinda build onto the stuff from my first few posts, so if you haven't read them yet... Now's your chance to do that.

Time to analyze some episodes!

Let's start at the very beginning with episode 1 and 2, most people's first exposure to the series and also Firemans debut:

Fireman used to work as a welder, but lost that job after he caused some property damage at the construction site. He also almost pushed his HR guy off the roof, but only after he insulted him, telling him he should be a fry cook if he can't do his job properly. So after facing workplace discrimination and getting fired (pun not intended) because he retaliated in a pretty bad way, Fireman joined Lord Obsidian, who for sure offered him some way to get revenge on all the ignorant humans who only see him and all the other robots as tools to use.

Headcanon time! I honestly don't think Fireman caused the damage on purpose, I actually imagine him to be quite diligent, hardworking and reliable. The perfect worker one could say, if it weren't for his terrible anger issues. He probably had a particularly bad day back then. The HR guy insulting the abilities he had honed over years of honest work was probably the last straw for him.

Another headcanon is that he's so massively pissed off every time we see him because Lord Obsidian just keeps stoking the flames, by which I mean, he's just continuously insulting him while keeping him in check with his giant mech suit. Fireman just can't catch a break. And because he's so stressed out and irritated all the time, he let's that anger out on innocent (puny) humans. But as you probably know, he gets better later on in the show.

After watching that first episode again, Fireman also seems to care a lot about his personal space, as he angrily yells at Aki to get off after he climbs on his back to get a hold of his schematics easier. While on top of his tank, he also tells Fireman that he's got a lot of issues and to see someone about that. I mean, we knew that already. He also tells him to take up yoga or something.

On to episode 2. And oh man, Sgt. Night really told Fireman to wreak havoc in the city so that he can spread his anti-robot propaganda among the panicking townsfolk, with a speech that sounds as if he practiced it in front of a mirror the night before. At that point in time, the viewer doesn't even know who Lord Obsidian is, neither do they know that he and Sgt. Night are the same person. Night is probably riling Fireman up on purpose, since he already knows about his fiery temper, hoping that one or two injured humans may be enough to throw the town into disharmony again, or even better, start another war between humans and robots.

After shenanigans ensue and Aki, his family and Sgt. Edgelord vanish down a manhole cover, Fireman visibly struggles to get it open with his torch arms. A problem he has in common with Drillman, who's also missing his hands. But I've already talked enough about Drillman and his personal problems on my other post. Maybe he and Fireman bonded a little over their shared plight, even though the red bot doesn't let it affect him as much as Drillman. For Waveman, my personal headcanon is that he actually has at least one retractable hand, as in, he can replace his blaster or his harpoon with a hand at any time, just like Mega Man can with his arm cannon. There is a reason for that, which I'll explain when we get to episode 12.

Skipping forward a bit, at the very end of the episode, when the Lights and all the school kids (human and robot alike) surround Sgt. Night to protect him from Firemans wrath and show him the power of love and friendship, we find out that Firemans main goal was to burn that big robot racist to a crisp. All the other humans would have just been collateral damage, lol.

Now here start the questions. It's been a while since I've watched these two episodes. So color me surprised when in the last few seconds, as Fireman is carefully tiptoeing into Lord Obsidians office, his personality completely flipped from when he was fighting Mega Man in the city, Sgt. Night just sits there in the chair with his whole human mug out. I thought the bots didn't know he was a human???? Wasn't that the whole point of the season finale??????? Well, he was sitting in complete darkness, so I don't know. I'll need to investigate this further...

Pausing that line of thought for a second, let's continue with episode 5, otherwise known as Wavemans debut episode.

Compared to Fireman, Waveman has his very own bundle of problems to deal with. As we come to know over the course of the episode, the guy has some extreme attachment issues. And also an extreme fixation on cleanliness. In a desperate search for his only friend, he's giving the city a nice makeover along the way. Even if that makeover includes flooding a dozen basements and costing the city millions in infrastructure damage. Compared to the other robot masters we've seen this far, Wavemans powers are by far the most powerful and destructive. If his powers weren't so dependent on his current emotional state, Lord Obsidian would have a terrifying bot on his side. (I'll come back to that thought later) Sadly for him, this is Waveman we're talking about. The same guy who got beaten up and thrown into jail by a literal dog.

Speaking of animals, Waveman seems to have a huge soft spot for them, immediately stopping his hostile behavior towards Mega Man when he spots Rush next to him. This is also the point where we get to know that "his only friend" that he's been trying to find for the entire episode is a literal alligator he found in the sewers.

At the very end of the episode, when Waveman is already behind bars in the police cruiser, he and the viewer actually catch one last glimpse at Alligator (that's the name he decided to give it.), who's randomly wearing a top hat, monocle and holding a walking cane. It shakes its head at Waveman disappointingly and then jumps back down into the sewers it came from. I'm gonna be ignoring its sudden fancy getup.

Knowing Waveman, the true story of his alligator friend was probably a little different from the one he told Aki. I firmly believe that he found the little guy injured and/or starving and nursed it back to health. So far, so good. Any normal person would have released an animal like this back into the wild, or at least given it into the care of a wildlife rescue organization. But not Waveman. He must have been really, and I mean REALLY lonely if he came to the conclusion that he should keep an alligator as a pet to combat that loneliness. The alligator probably "got lost" on purpose, as I can imagine that Waveman must have been pretty overbearing regarding his only friend. That poor little bot. If he just had someone to give all his affection to...

And with that we're back to Fireman, who graces us with his presence once again just one episode later, in the sixth one. In the first few seconds, he already drops a bombshell on Aki (and us), as he reveals that he's actually seeing a robot therapist to work on his anger problems. Good for him. He also really took Akis advice to heart and started doing yoga as well. Fireman might be the only robot in this series who's actively trying to work on his problems.

The things he says in this episode are a little worrying though: Opposite to Sgt. Nights anti robot propaganda, Fireman is constantly trash-talking humans in this episode, trying and failing to convince Aki to join the "right side". The phrases he uses sound to me as if they were made up by Lord Obsidian and Fireman is just repeating them mindlessly.

And with that, we've finally reached episode 12, the long awaited Fireman/Waveman special. As you may know, Waveman and Fireman are the only robot masters who had the privilege of sharing an episode (If we forget about the finale and the few one hit wonder scenes later on for a minute), which may be one of the reasons a lot of people ship them in the first place. I am one of them, lol. I mean, the episode is literally titled "Opposites Attract", like come on.

From the moment they first interact, it's not looking good for us Fire/Wave truthers, since they can't exchange a single word without insulting each other or shooting each other in the face with their blasters. I have a suspicion that their animosity is mostly fueled by their current terrible living and working conditions. They both know that in the case their assigned mission fails, their asses are toast. Episode 2 already established that Fireman is scared of Lord Obsidian. And if the biggest, baddest bot out of the bunch gets all skittish whenever he's in the presence of his employer/benefactor (Was it ever established if they get paid for this? Or if they get anything else in return except maybe a shitty warehouse to stay in?), it's not looking good for the rest of these robots. Most of all Waveman, who's already emotionally unstable to begin with.

This episode is set up in a way that Fireman and Waveman act as a sort of foil to Aki and Suna, who are also having a fight about their differing opinions at the same time. After the two siblings split up and try to deal with the problem at hand on their own, the scene shifts back to the two bots, with Waveman actually trying to bury the hatchet, calling Fireman "friend" and helping him calm down a little by getting him to do breathing exercises with him. Fireman appreciates this gesture, but immediately gets stressed again because Waveman isn't tuning his machine fast enough for his liking.

Speaking of this machine... It has a very similar color scheme and pattern to the water bot, so it's probably safe to assume that Waveman is the one responsible for building it. That's why I think he actually has retractable hands. How else could he have built this giant, highly complex machine? How does he even know how to construct things like this?? One more fact to add to the "Waveman is secretly really capable" list. Or he just stole the thing from his old job. I dunno.

One skipped Rush scene later, Suna is beginning to clog the pipe the two robots used to drain the lake with junk she found lying around, agitating Waveman, who then says (And I quote): "Hey! She's- she's touching my machine! Oh, I hate it when people touch my machine... E- except for you, new friend." He says that last part while looking back at Fireman with a goofy expression on his face. It's so damn cute. He's just so happy to finally have a friend that isn't a wild animal! (Well...) The feeling doesn't seem to be mutual quite yet, as Fireman is still sporting the same sour expression he had before.

Now this next thing was just thanks to my impeccable hearing. The first time I watched Fully Charged, I did so in my living room, lying around on the couch while my TV was on the other side of the room. The actual line Waveman says after they get interrupted by Mega Man is "We got this, Fireface!", which, yeah, makes a lot more sense than the thing I heard. I kid you not, I really thought I heard him say "We got this, Firebabe!". I was actually flabbergasted, scrambled for the remote and had to rewind the video. Kinda disappointed that he didn't really call Fireman his "babe", but whatever. Moving on.

Fireman isn't exactly happy about being called "Fireface", but Waveman just tells him that friends normally give nicknames to each other. He really could have picked a better one, though. Like... you know... Firebabe? No, I guess that would have just made him even angrier.

This scene also makes me think that Waveman is just a tiny bit overenthusiastic about making a new friend, trying to force Fireman out of his grumpy shell a little too fast for the red bots liking. (This will also come back later when I get into heavy headcanon territory.)

The next scene, where Waveman slides down the pump cable like freaking Shadow the Hedgehog and then flips around in the air like a star athlete, only to stick a perfect landing directly in front of the clogged pump is another piece of evidence to me that Waveman is just all in all a really badass, capable bot. If his emotions allow him to be, that is.

When he and Fireman reunite at the bottom of the drained lake, still trying to find Suna, Fireman returns the favor and also gives Waveman a nickname, though his one seems to be a little mean spirited, as he's slowly losing his patience with the water bot. Waveman is completely oblivious to Firemans cold attitude, calling him "chief" and complimenting his leadership skills. Even Suna is grossed out by Wavemans continuous (bad) attempts at flirting, which results in her saying the truly amazing line "Eugh, it's an evil robot love fest over there." Seeing Waveman try so hard to be Firemans friend is actually a little sad to watch, even more if you factor in the knowledge we uncovered in his debut episode. But lucky for him, Fireman is actually warming up to all the compliments, saying that he never imagined himself as a leader.

And now for the most homophobic moment in Mega Man history: As Suna and Aki finally make up, they hatch the ultimate plan to stop the two bots from completing their evil scheme: breaking up their newly blossomed friendship by riling them up against each other! Truly, truly evil of them. Tactically speaking it's a good plan, but ruining all that character growth that happened in the past two minutes just to stop this weeks evil scheme? Genuinely diabolical. As the two robots fight over who of them is in charge, Aki actually finds out for the first time that there is a "boss" controlling all these wayward robots.

Aaaaaalso huge lore drop: I didn't remember this fact from my first watch-through, but Fireman actually seems to be the guy who got Waveman on Lord Obsidians team of robot outcasts in the first place, i.e. breaking him out of prison for causing millions in property damages. He's reeeeaaaally holding that fact over Wavemans head in this scene. Their little fight gets broken up by Suna starting the pump once again, sucking both of them in and spitting them out over the skyscrapers and into the cloudy sky, where you can still hear Fireman cursing even after they've flown out of sight.

Post episode / headcanon time: While the two of them may spend most of the episode arguing due to their different personalities (and after the siblings tricked them into fighting again after they had actually began to tolerate each other), I firmly believe that since the episode ends on the note that people can still get along great even if they have very differing opinions and worldviews, they eventually get over their disagreement and make up. Maybe even start talking outside of their very important Obsidian-assigned missions. Maybe even become real, true friends.

But before we can even think of that happening, the two of them are still free falling over the city. Now the writers probably thought this Team-Rocket-esque takeoff was a fun little bit to end the episode on and most people wouldn't even think about what happens to them afterwards, since this is a god damn children's cartoon we're talking about and falls from great heights aren't taken very serious in this show in general, but I'm weird and I love overthinking stuff, so I thought of an aftermath to that scenario:

Metal is pretty heavy. So if a 1000 kilo robot like Fireman hits the concrete from 30 meters in the air, that's not gonna end well. He'd probably be reduced to a million tiny pieces. That's why I'm gonna throw them a bone and say that they crash-land in the forest, where their fall at least gets absorbed a little by the branches of the trees.

While they're getting launched through the air, Fireman is still cursing up a storm, thinking that this is gonna be the end of him. Waveman on the other hand spontaneously decides that he would rather die than let his new friend get hurt, so he grabs onto Fireman and just hopes for the best. They do thankfully land in a tree, so they at least don't get blasted to bits. Waveman breaks most of their fall, getting skewered by twigs on the way down and then crushed by the red bots bulky frame, but other than that, they're both okay.

As soon as he recovers from this near-death experience and once he realizes what just happened, the first thing Fireman does is angrily yell at the other robot next to him on the ground, but not out of anger, but out of genuine concern. What does he think he's doing? Why would he use his lanky little body to shield him from the fall? Is he insane???

Waveman meanwhile is just glad that they both got out of that situation kinda unharmed. He also immediately starts crying, but only because he's so touched at Firemans concern over him.

In the end, Fireman has to carry both himself and the other bot back to Lord Obsidian's shack for wayward robots, where they're probably gonna get an additional asskicking for failing their mission so spectacularly.

Headcanon scenario over. Let's carry on then...

Okay, now the next Waveman episode is number 21, but before that, we need to make a very important pit stop at episode 16, since it basically unravels half of my headcanons. So. It turns out the robot masters DO know that Lord Obsidian is a human. Then why are they following him??? Why are they surprised when it turns out that he wasn't just pretending to be a turbo robo-racist? They're all so freaking scared of him, Jesus Christ! In episode 19, Fireman is visibly shaking after Sgt. Night premieres his giant mech suit. Why are they following him? I know for a fact that Sgt. Night threatened Blastowoman into joining his side, but what about the others?

I mean, most of the robots Lord Obsidian recruited have no other place to go. Chemistryman lost his teaching job and was probably facing homelessness, same as Drillman, who was probably disowned by his father after trying to take revenge on Skyraisers Inc. Fireman was deemed unhirable after almost killing his HR guy, Waveman is literally a wanted criminal after flooding half the city and so on and so on. The only exception is probably Cutman, who just likes being evil for the lulz. (I'm joking)

So is this like one of these cults that you can't get out of once they have you in their hands? And even when you try to leave or show signs of disloyalty, you get endlessly harassed or even killed? (We'll come back to that last thought after we reach episode 43.) Okay, maybe I'm just interpreting way too much into this children's show once again. Now let's get into episode 21.

This is for the most part a Rush episode. The pooch gets some awesome new upgrades after almost getting turned into kibble by Lord Obsidian, so Aki and Suna spend the whole episode building a robot from scratch to help Rush overcome his fears. While they are hard at work, Waveman is just casually trying to flood the financial district. Kinda based of him. (His puns while he's being shown on TV are also fantastic. Aquaman could learn a thing or two from him.)

Aki and Suna ignore Rushs pleads for attention, so the brave little dog decides to go battle the aquatic robot master on his own.

While Rush is busy saving a kitty and some civilians falling off of roofs, Waveman is once again spinning and flipping around in the air and swinging around the houses with his harpoon like freaking Spiderman. God, he can be so awesome when he wants to be. After getting his ass bitten by Rush, he almost immediately gets distracted again because he just can't resist the doggo's adorableness, due to his already established weakness to cute animals. Or all animals, I guess. Alligators aren't exactly what I'd call cute...

He regains his senses and starts fighting back after Rush gets out his laser eyes, however. Unfortunately for Waveman, afterwards, he just gets thrown around like a rag doll for the rest of the episode. By a dog. And to add salt to the injury, after Rush flies him over into the waiting hands of the good guild, the police bots hang him upside down by the feet and pose with him like he's a particularly big fish they caught on a fishing trip. There's even a reporter taking pictures for the newspaper. Ouch.

This probably means Fireman had to break him out of prison again after this episode ends, but that shouldn't be a problem, since the good guild bots are hilariously bad at their jobs.

I imagine Lord Obsidian wasn't very pleased that one of his robots got himself beaten up so badly by Mega Mans pet dog on live television, so Fireman actually had to plead with his boss to keep his friend on the team at all. For all Sgt. Night cared, Waveman could have spent the rest of his life in prison. Thank god he's got Fireman on his side now. Anyway, carrying on...

In between this and the next Fireman episode (34), nothing really happens related to them, so I'm just gonna skip forward to one of my personal favorites of the show, "Fire Man in the Hole":

This episode takes place on and in a freaking active volcano, that's apparently right next to the city. Aki, Suna and Ashley are filming a documentary for a school project, but accidentally drop their camera down the title-giving hole. It lands right next to Fireman, who's powering up his fire powers with a machine created by Lord Obsidian, with the goal of heating up his flames to a high enough temperature to melt right through Dr. Lights doors. This is accomplished by somehow converting the lava into energy that turns Firemans flames blue and therefore much more dangerous.

The big bad boss warns Fireman not to go too far with the machine, as using it too much could cause the volcano to erupt. Somehow. You can tell he doesn't have any faith in Fireman, as he yells at him not to mess up again. You can visibly see the robots face dropping at the particularly emphasized "again".

After Aki jumps down into the volcano to search for their camera, Fireman can be seen using his newfound power completely recklessly, even disregarding his bosses orders. This is the first time in the series where he just openly disobeys Sgt. Night, possibly foreshadowing that he's had enough of being pushed around by the human. He repeats "And nobody can stop me!" three times in a row (the first two times Sgt. Night even hears him say it), before Mega Man comes around and does try to stop him. But not because he cares about his evil plan or anything like that, he simply wants the camera back to impress Ashley and Fireman happens to stand right next to it. The robot sees this as the perfect opportunity to try out his powered up blasters, so he gleefully moves the camera out of the way and tells Aki to fight him for it.

During their fight, you can clearly see that Fireman has gone mad with power, not even sparing one thought to the warning Sgt. Night gave him about the volcano erupting. He fires at Mega Man in reckless abandon, who desperately tries to plead with him and get him to calm down, but without avail. This destabilizes the walls around them even more, causing the lava to rise and stones to fall from the ceiling. A particularly big one eventually traps Aki, causing him to be unable to move, making Fireman celebrate his apparent victory.

He was completely on board with the idea of just leaving this poor robot child to boil alive in the erupting volcano, only stopping in his tracks after he realizes that there's no way for him to get out as well. After lamenting that no one told him this could happen (seriously?), Aki chimes in as well, saying that they were too busy fighting each other to notice the rising lava.

Fireman doesn't take this comment from Aki very well, yelling at him that he was doing totally fine until he showed up, basically blaming the kid for all the failures he suffered under Lord Obsidians command. The stress from the situation makes him break into an entire monologue, venting to Aki that all he wants is to make his boss proud for once in his life, yet all he does is fail him again and again. There's a scene at the end of his little montage of failures where he tries to cook something for Sgt. Night and all the robots on his team, but ends up burning the whole thing to a crisp right in front of their eyes. Thank god he didn't really end up becoming a fry cook. Because he would suck at that job too. (Too far, Jenny. Too far.)

The voice acting during this moment is impeccable, by the way. You can just hear Firemans frustration and anger at his own continuous failures come to a (literal) boiling point in this scene. After he finishes his tirade, he just let's himself down on the ground next to Aki, seemingly left with no hope and willing to spend his last moments with his greatest adversary, getting swallowed by the rising lava.

Our protagonist hasn't given up however. He tries to appeal to Fireman one last time, telling him that if they work together, they could still try to stop the volcano from erupting and save the city. After some convincing, the red bot eventually agrees to this, blasting away the rocks that were pinning Aki to the ground and helping him up.

As they're blasting the cave wall in a desperate attempt to redirect the flow of the lava, Fireman starts doubting himself again, saying that they're never gonna be able to do this before they get their feet melted off. The little blue bot is determined, though. He encourages Fireman and tells him to believe in himself, which eventually leads to them successfully breaking through the wall, saving not only themselves, but also the whole city.

Fireman visibly relaxes after this, even laughing and giving Aki a fist (blaster?) bump, glad that he finally did something right. Mega Man even praises him, saying that his boss might not be proud of him, but he sure is. You can tell that Fireman is completely taken aback by this, clearly not used to being complimented (Let's just disregard Waveman for a minute, who absolutely showers him with compliments every opportunity he gets), but he greatly appreciates this regardless, even if he doesn't show it. He kicks the camera they've been fighting over back to Aki and then leaves as quickly as he can, before any of them have to acknowledge what just happened between them.

This encounter probably planted a seed inside of Firemans processor. Why should he settle for someone like Obsidian, who doesn't appreciate a single thing he does? Who terrorizes him every single day of his life? Maybe, just maybe... The good side isn't so bad after all?

And with that lovely thought in our heads we finally get to Fireman's last canonical appearance, episode 43.

We start out in Dr. Lights lab, where he and Mega Man discuss the identity of the mysterious bot who's been bothering them for basically the entire season. Dr. Light brings up second chances and asks Mega Man to consider giving the little edgy guy another try to become a good bot. Even though he has only ever shown hostility to everyone he's ever interacted with. Oh well. But as Dr. Light goes on about second chances, the scene switches to the dark warehouse Sgt. Night and his bots call their home and Fireman storms inside the command center angrily.

If we compare this scene to some others from the first few episodes, you can immediately tell that Firemans entire attitude towards his boss has shifted completely. Instead of cowering away and keeping his voice low, in this scene he's just openly berating him, complaining that he and the other bots still don't know what his plan entails and that they're still just standing around talking to each other instead of actually doing something to take over the city.

Sgt. Night doesn't let these harsh words phase him, instead linking their stagnant efforts to Firemans incompetence. To say he doesn't take that well would be an understatement. But now, instead of just accepting this mistreatment and swallowing his pride, Fireman actually gets so mad that he charges at Sgt. Night, intending to attack him. He only gets stopped by his bosses (child) body guard, who loudly proclaims that Fireman will have to go through him first.

The fiery bot takes that as a challenge and announces his willingness to duel the other robot. Sgt. Night suddenly turns around, having just thought that a battle right in the middle of his office would make for good entertainment. And since he's grown tired of Firemans disobedience anyway, he probably thinks this is a good way to test out his child's fighting capabilities on someone other than Mega Man.

Before Namagem can even begin to shit-talk him, Fireman already hits him over the head with one of his blasters, officially starting their fight. The animation during this fight and in this episode in general are really freaking good. Man of Action living up to their name, finally.

After Sgt. Night lets out a cartoonishly evil laugh, Fireman and Namagem continue exchanging blows and insults, until one particularly heavy punch by the smaller bot sends Fireman flying up into the busy streets of the city, seemingly coming out of a manhole? This implies that Sgt. Night and his bots just live down in the sewers?? This is even worse than a shitty warehouse!

This also puts the conversation between Fireman and Waveman at the end of episode 12 into a completely different light: Fireman was mocking him for the fact that he used to clean sewers before they recruited him... While currently living in the sewers himself? Not that much of a moral high ground, my man...

Anyway, now that their little kerfuffle has reached the city and the townspeople are panicking, Mega Man decides to investigate. Unsurprisingly, the fighting bots don't want to be interrupted and shoot at him, even momentarily pausing their fight for this. The shot where they both fire their blasters at Mega Man also made me realize something: I called Namagem the "smaller bot" before, since I assumed he was just as tall as Aki (Y'know, cause they're twins and all that. Oops, Spoiler.), but it turns out he's actually the same size as Fireman, if not half a foot taller! (I have no idea how much that is in centimeters. Okay I looked it up and it's like 15. That's a pretty big difference.) But since he's cheating with his "battle armor" I'm still gonna call him the smaller bot.

After continuing their battle through various parts of the city, including an art museum and Dr. Lights garden, where yet another gardener gets traumatized by the destruction of a prized bonsai tree, they eventually end up in the forest, where their fight finally reaches its climax.

Aki and Mini discuss the possibility of winning Fireman over for the good guys, since he helped them back in the volcano, but are interrupted in their planning by Namagem just absolutely wiping the floor with the fire bot, causing Aki to jump to his rescue and punch his dark counterpart in the chest.

Apparently, Namagem inherited some of his "fathers" more cruel traits, like standing above Fireman and holding his blaster straight to his face, very slowly powering it up, watching with delight as his victim awaits his final moments. Well, until Aki comes in.

The blue bomber quickly explains that he's only helping Fireman to save the city. After the other bot takes a second to recover from yet another near-death experience, he also tells Aki that he's only "letting him" save him because he hates the other guy more than him. These are good enough reasons for them to work together for a while.

And wouldn't you know, it's like they're naturals working with each other, because only a few moments later, they're absolutely tag-teaming Namagem, hitting him with fire blasts from every possible angle. Sadly, this strategy only works for a short while before Namagem brings out his own fire powers, throwing them into the air in the process. After they land back on the ground, there's even more shots coming straight for Mega Man, but Fireman actually gets in front of him to shield him from the attack, completely unprompted.

After that adorable display of camaraderie, they get right back to the battle and actually manage to overheat Namagems blaster, which gives them the opportunity to trap their enemy in a fiery vortex. A little goofy and over the top, but who cares. I'm not gonna spend any time talking about this episodes reveal related to Akis brother, since this is an essay about Fireman and Waveman and not him. And these episode summaries already take up a lot of time and space. Man. I really hope there isn't a word limit for tumblr posts.

Before Fireman can return the earlier favor and blast a hole into the defeated bots head, Mega Man obviously stops him, saying something along the lines of "Don't let anger make you a monster like him! Give him the second chance you want yourself to have!" This combined with the downed robots gasping breaths, suddenly sounding much more like a young boy than the scary guard dog of his boss, makes Fireman slowly lowers his blaster, eventually powering it off completely.

Mega Man is visibly relieved, flashing Fireman a genuine smile. But then... Before the episode can end on this happy note and officially kick-start the fire bots redemption, Namagem musters the last bit of his strength, shooting Fireman straight into his exposed back, instantly punishing his decision to show a little bit of vulnerability. He collapses into Akis arms, who can't help but scream in terror. After laying him on the ground and realizing that Namagem escaped while he wasn't paying attention, he softly reassures Fireman, telling him that Dr. Light will fix him up "in no time". Mega Man also tells him that he's finally free of his "master". All the red bot has left in him before he passes out is to groan in pain and mutter a defeated sounding "Uh huh."

Standing over his companions still body, Mega Man suddenly develops a taste for revenge, saying that he'll take Namagem down by any means necessary.

And this, ladies and gentleman, is the last thing we ever see of Fireman. For all the rest of the season cares, he might as well be dead. If you were one of the people who thought that he would heroically save the Light family out of a tough situation in the finale (like me), you might have been a little disappointed. "He'll fix you up in no time" my ass. But the one good thing about this is that it leaves me with much more room for headcanons.

So what happens after this episode? Fireman gets taken in by Dr. Light for repairs and Namagem returns to Sgt. Night with the news that the traitorous bot has been taken care of. (He leaves out the part where he got his ass kicked.) There's just one little problem with this: What do they tell the other robots? If they tell them that they had to get rid of Fireman for becoming a little too disobedient, I don't think that'll go over well. Especially when it comes to one bot in particular...

So to avoid Waveman going absolute sicko mode on them, they come up with a different story. They call the robot masters together for a meeting, where they tell them with a (not so) heavy heart that Fireman sadly perished in a fight against Mega Man, who showed no mercy in executing him.

Waveman is utterly devastated. Just as he finally found a true friend in this world, he gets taken away again. Why does the universe want him to be alone so bad?

The other bots take the news equally as bad. Fireman may have been a short-fused, grumpy hothead, but he was the robot that's been at Sgt. Nights side the longest of them all, someone dependable they could ask for advice when they needed it. And that Mega Man supposedly offlined him? Was his usual friendliness all just an act to hide his true nature as Dr. Lights killing machine?

But before Sgt. Night can actually celebrate the fact that the robots really believe his made up story, he has to ban Waveman from the base, as he slowly begins to flood everything with his tears.

As Sgt. Night has come to realize over the short time of working with Waveman, his emotions are usually very fickle, so he hopes that he'll come back to his senses in the next few hours. But the hours eventually turn into days. He's not gonna stop crying, isn't he?

Waveman gets so comically depressed after Firemans apparent "death" that he floods entire stretches of land with his tears, with no signs of stopping. It's only after Sgt. Night has to get out his row boat that he sends the other bots to try and cheer him up. Pictured here: The grouchy evil mastermind a second before kicking Drillman into the water.

Please disregard the random gray warehouse to the side, as I drew this exactly one day before finding out Sgt. Night and his gang live in the sewers. (It also felt so freaking wrong drawing Elecman without his ever-present shit eating grin. Feels kinda out of character.)

Anyway, in between episode 43 and the finale there are just a few more episodes, but we can basically skip them all because Fireman bit the dust and Waveman is too busy being taken over by an all-consuming sadness over losing his only friend yet again. He does appear shortly for one episode, but he doesn't say a single word and just gets absolutely blasted by Mega Man. Sgt. Night was probably hoping for him and the other robots to try and take revenge on his blue adversary, but since Fireman isn't there to shield them from all of his abuse anymore, maybe they're starting to doubt his plans and the story he told them about the fire bots passing?

(Side note before we talk about the finale: I know I said this was an essay about Fireman and Waveman, but I just rewatched "This Is Not A Drill", which comes two episodes after Firemans demise and it's sooo much worse than I remembered. At the end, Drillman Senior literally says "I never should have had kids!", which is just. Yeah. A great thing to say to your depressed child, who's probably at the lowest point in his life and stuck in a criminal organization whose boss is taking advantage of him and his insecurities. The "moral" this episode ends on just makes me so unreasonably angry. But you already knew that. Anyway, tangent over.)

I'm not gonna talk about the finale that thoroughly because this essay is already way longer than I ever imagined it would be. Sorry, this got really out of hand for some reason.

So Lord Obsidian brought the entire gang to Dr. Lights doorstep, where they do everything in their power to blast down his doors to get to the Mega key. But before they can even make it past the first glass door, they get a taste of the Light families awesome teamwork. I can't imagine Lord Obsidian wasted much time on maintenance for his robot army, so at this point, half of them are already battered and falling apart thanks to their repeated defeats at the hands of Mega Man. This would also explain how three people and their dog can successfully fend off an entire brigade of armed battle robots.

Waveman barely gets any moment to show off his hidden battle prowess, instead getting used more as the comic relief in this tense battle sequence. The one time he aims his hook straight for Akis head, it gets snatched away by Rush and he's thrown around in the air yet again.

As the battle continues and Aki ends up facing off against Lord Obsidian and Namagem alone, the remaining Lights wipe the floor with the robot masters in the meantime, tying them all up into a nice package for the good guild. After that comes the massive lore dump at the end:

One very important fact that gets revealed here (except for the brother thing) is that Daini was stolen away "shortly before the hard age ended". So that means, I was completely off with my 30 years. I know that they were originally built to be used as weapons in the war, but were given a second chance by Dr. Light wiping their minds clean. Which is.... uh... kinda fucked. Dr. Light out here just casually building child soldiers. But nevermind that, I guess the hard age wasn't that long ago after all. So instead of 30 years, it was more like 15 years? That's my new estimate, at least. I'm going off the fact that Aki and Suna are still in middle school.

This doesn't affect my existing headcanons as badly as I thought at first. One final side note before I get back to Fireman and Waveman: As I headcanonend on one of my last posts, Woodman and Drillman Senior actually used to be friends before the wooden bot went MIA. This 15 year shift means that Woodman actually got the chance to meet Drillman Junior as a child. That's actually kinda sweet. (Which reminds me of something, do all the robot masters have actual names like Cutman and Chemistryman? If Drillman were to have one, his parents probably called him something stupid like Drilliam. Lol.)

Anyway, now back to the post finale headcanons: After spending a moment to cope with all the stuff that happened with Sgt. Night and Daini, the Lights make their way to the good guild to tell the robot masters the truth about their boss and set them on the path to rehabilitation.

Surprising them, Waveman just straight up refuses to listen, still thinking that Aki killed his beloved Fireman. The two kids are kinda shocked at this revelation, since they thought the two robots despised each other after the stunt they pulled at the lake. Clearly not. Aki also finally makes sense of the fact that Waveman definitely tried to kill him with his harpoon in that last battle on purpose. A little concerning.

But the misunderstanding soon gets resolved, as Dr. Light had the foresight to bring Fireman along with them, who was understandably pissed off that they didn't get him out of stasis before the showdown with Sgt. Night occurred. But it all happened so fast, what can you do?

The second Waveman catches sight of the fire bot, he immediately breaks down the force field of the cell that's holding him, shocking not only the Lights, but also the good guild bots who were standing close by. (Seems like it's not the first time he's broken himself out of jail...) Before the police bots can do anything to stop him, Waveman is already jumping into Firemans arms, who barely has any time to react, but catches him regardless. It doesn't take two seconds before Waveman is already bawling his eyes out yet again, though this time out of relief that his friend is okay.

Fireman is a little bit overwhelmed with the situation, feeling guilty that his reckless battle against Daini and his subsequent disappearance apparently left his friend so horribly depressed.

Speaking of horribly depressed: Aki and his family finally get to tell the other robots the truth about Lord Obsidians plans while Fireman and Waveman are busy with their reunion. The robots are clearly disgusted with the things Sgt. Night had planned for them once he got his hands on the Mega key, questioning why they were even helping such a monster in the first place. To help speed their rehabilitation along, Dr. Light puts in a few good words for them, since he and the good guild work together quite closely. While he, Aki and Suna are busy getting the rest of the robot masters out of their cells (and patching up Drillmans arms...), Waveman has finally shed enough tears and calms down again. Kinda. He's so glad to finally have Fireman back that he accidentally blurts out a love confession.

Huh.

Fireman is at a loss for words. Needless to say, he's also glad to finally be reunited with his friend again, but isn't he moving a little too fast? Before he can think about it too long, he tells Waveman that he feels the same way.

I imagine this is going to become a common theme over the course of their newfound relationship. Waveman being way too overenthusiastic about the stuff they do, taking everything way too fast for Fireman to comfortably keep up with. If they don't talk about this, this could potentially lead to problems.

But they will make this work. I believe in them.

And that's where I'm gonna stop with the headcanons. I have plenty more, possibly enough to fill another one of these essays, but man, I have a full time job. I really wish I could just write about funny robots all day... But alas, the students want their books.

Before I sign off, I wanted to share this sketch from 2 years ago with you:

Please don't think about the horrible alligator-eel monstrosity that's gorging itself on Firemans arm. Drawing animals is hard, okay? This stupid little sketch was long abandoned, but the idea served as a sort of inspiration for the final image.

And that is all I wanted to say. Man, discovering layer modes in Gimp has really upped my art game. See you on the next one when we continue our quest to draw every single robot master in the classic series. (Next up are Tornadoman and Windman!) And maybe at a later point, when I draw the last of my favorite robot masters from Fully Charged that I haven't talked about yet: Airman. I have a fun idea for an image involving him and Blastowoman.

Jenny out.

[zsakuva]

Afaik you were in uni when you started your channel. Ignore this question if I'm wrong lol

What would your advice be for aspiring content creators who are currently in college? Any time management tips?

I was!

But I think my circumstances were a little different as I started my channel at the height of covid when the UK was on lockdown. I didn't have to factor in travelling, nor was I overloaded with work and lessons because my last year only involved writing my dissertation. And as I'm a film graduate, majority of that included watching many, many hours of Star Trek! xD

If I were to give any advice for those in college who want to make any kind of content creation, then I would suggest dipping your toes into shallow waters until you know you can dedicate more time to it.

When I first started, none of my audios exceeded 15 minutes in length. They weren't as complex, and I didn't want to expand them because that would require more brainstorming that was needed for uni. But I had the privilege of not having to study for tests or do anything outside of the scope of my dissertation. Still, I gave time I knew I could spare to audios.

I gave myself limitations, and I made sure to adhere to them so I wasn't overwhelmed or didn't develop any kind of burnout from audios or my university work.

It's definitely fun starting out, and I wish good luck to anyone who wants to get into it!

[chaosology]

somebody else

— spencer reid x reader

pairing: spencer reid (criminal minds) /fem!reader

genre: angst part ii here | masterlist

content warnings: none? just bad writing, this is my first post :)

summary: heartbroken over maeve’s death, spencer snaps at the reader who happens to be in love with him, causing her to rethink her relationship with the resident genius

At only 24, Y/N had managed to become the youngest surgical intern at her hospital. She skipped grades and spent years of intense study in university completing her degree, all while juggling a psych class on the side. She had only taken it for fun of course, it was an interesting subject but it wasn't as hands on as the the thrills of surgery. Naturally, she had graduated top of her class with "record breaking" high marks, setting a scary new standard for the generations to come.

Half way through her intern year she was approached by FBI representatives, who were combing through the top 1% of potential candites. They assured her that the unit's headquarters were local and that she could come to the hospital three to four days a week, but would assist a team in tracking down and analysing potential criminals (or 'UnSubs" as the man so vehemently stressed). She was cautious at first, but they promised that it would look great on resumes and she could back out at any time. Eventually, she caved and agreed. Her friends and collegues at the hospital all supported her - after all, this was a once in a lifetime oppurtunity.

Before she was introduced to her new team, she was sent letters instructing her of what was expected. She was to complete a certain amount of hours at the gym, complete a fire arms assessment, a physical and a mental competency test. Probably to make sure I'm not a serial killer, she thought, but wouldn't that be ironic? She passed them all with flying colours (as to be expected) and was sent an email inviting her to an introductory dinner with the group. Whether they did this for everyone she didn't know, but she hoped they would welcome her with open arms and notthink less of her because of her age.

Immediatly when she met them she knew they were good people. They were walm and close and all around comforting . The biggest shock of all, however, was the young doctor Spencer Reid. She had never expected someone so close to her age to be working alongside her. She had heard about him from one of her professors in med school, who raved about one of his dissertations from Caltech. She never bothered to read it of course (who really cares about engineering, anyway?) but had always thought about the boy who had managed to capture the attention of her famously cold hearted teacher. She had assumed he would be cold, arrogent and stuck up, but instead her was awkward and clumsy. He told nerdy jokes that made only him laugh and treated her as an equal from the moment they met. From then on, she was consumed.

She eventually fell into a groove while working two jobs, balancing both her lives while simultaneously falling harder and harder for the boy who worked across from her. At first she thought it wasn't mutual, but as time passed she picked up on how he would often stay late to escort her to the bus stop and make sure to text to see if she was home safe. Or when he bought Doctor Who movies and sugary foods when she lost a beloved patient at the hospital. Or when he let her cry in his arms on the jet after a particurly tough case. She had overheard from Penelope that this was particurly unusual for the boy genius, who tended to avoid contact when possible (and if he did hug, there had to be a lot of years of trust and friendship built up mutually). When she pieced it all together, a thrill was sent through her body. Did he really like her back?

She never really had much luck with love. In eighth grade she recieved a rose on valentine's day in her locker from the boy she liked. As it turns out, he got the locker number wrong and intended it for her best friend. There was also her first year of college, where the boy she met on the orientation day insisted on walking her to and from all her classes. She brought him back for family Christmas and then noticed how he gravitated towards her older sister, wanting to hear all about her, leaving Y/N to sit at the table next to cousins she hadn't spoken to in months. It was always like this. A few months ago she thought she could pursue something with an attending at her hospital. He was a neurosurgeon that she clicked instantly with, but then she walked past the on-call room and heard him in an arguement with his girlfriend. Of course he was in a relationship, she had thought. Just her luck.

But of course, they didn't matter now. Spencer could be her everything. She knew it was important for the significant others of agents to understand the demand of their job, whic she did! They understood each other and would look at each other when they though the other wasn't watching. She didn't want to get ahead of herself, but the more time they spent together the more she thought about their future. Maybe he would shyly ask her on a date while they sat through a movie marathon. Myabe he would pick her up from the hospital at the end of her shift and tell her all about his day, his hand resting on her thigh while they sat at the traffic lights. Maybe he would grab her hand while they sat at the table where they first met and get down on one knee, asking her that one important question. Maybe he would tell her about the toxic properties in the paint she flicked it at him as they painted the bedroom the same light purple as his favourite shirt. Maybe, she thought. It had to be coming soon, his not-so-subtle glances were becoming even more obvious.

But then it slipped. It always slipped.

She first noticed his distraction while she told him all about the surgery she performed that day. Usually he would nod animatedly and interrupt to tell her a fact that even she didn't know. But as they stood outside the hospital entry (he offered to carpool every thursday), she couldn't help but wonder why he kept looking over at the payphone across the road. Maybe it was a one off? A tough day in the FBI isn't unheard of afterall, she thought. However, he continued his strange behaviour all the drive home. Uncomfortable silences followed by some unprompted facts about genetecists and their work. When he dropped her off outside her door, he told her he could no longer go through with their Thursday rituals. Something about scheduled phone calls, he said. He didn't make eye contact, either.

After a while, it was just her stealing the glances. She could no longer feel his gaze burning into the back of her head. When she would look at him, he was always smiling down fondly at his copy of 'The Narrative of John Smith'. In fact, he was always smiling. It was that same lovestruck smile she would recognise on herself when she looked in the mirror. A smile that definitley wasn't for her.

It was a windy day when Derek had finally called him out on it. The "Hey pretty boy, who's painted that smile on your face?" ringing out in the almost empty bullpen. She stiffened, looking up from her coffee and notes on the desk while discretely eavesdropping. "It's... It's nobody. Well, not nobody. Her name is Maeve. But don't say anything about it." He had whispered back. She had cracked. Her vision blurring the paper below her as she slowly stood and excused herself to the bathroom. Nobody had noticed her leaving.

She was the other girl. The somebody else.

She had always been a sacraficial person, which explained why she tearily offered herself as hostage instead of the beautiful Maeve Donovan. Like in eighth grade, when she sadly handed the rose back to her best friend. After all, she just wanted her to be happy. Or when she told her boyfriend to “go for it!” with her sister, even when they were still in a relationships. More than anything, she wanted the people around her to be happy. And as a doctor, she had a responsibility to keep those around her alive. So she threw herself in front of Spencer and towards the two women, landing unsteadily as she pleaded and cried. She couldn’t even here what she was saying, all the words a blur among the tears and rush of adrenaline. But what she dreaded most came next. The shrill cry of a bullet, the thud as Spencer fell to his feet in tears. Y/N stood still as time stopped. She looked around the room, feeling her breaths shorten by the second as the room started spinning. And then it all went black.

She had heard from JJ that he was ignoring everyone’s calls, only taking in gift baskets once he was sure the owner had left. In typical Spencer fashion, he was bottling himself and his feelings up. Surely for a man of his intelligence he knew it had to be a bad idea. She cared too much about him to let him suffer alone, and while she knew that facing him would cause her grief, she just had to see him. She knocked slowly on his door, calling out a soft “Spencer... It’s me. Y/N.” There was no answer, so she hesitantly took his spare key from his pocket and clicked open the door.

The apartment was dark, but she could still make out his figure wallowing on the couch. He was sitting upright surrounded by pillows and tissue boxes. There was the faint sound of the tv in the background, though she couldn’t make out what was on. “Spence... hey”, Y/N muttered. Her hand running up along the couch and onto the back of his neck. “Look, I know things are awful. And I can’t offer much, but if you need someone to cry on, to sit in silence with, I’m here. I know how it feels to live someone you love”. Her voice broke over the last few words but he didn’t notice. Or if he did, he didn’t care. “She was amazing, Spence. Just let us help you. We can do whatever you want, just let us in... Please?”

He stayed silent. And as her hand started to move up his back, he snapped.

“Let you in? Let you in so you can do what? Get Maeve killed. You’ve done enough already, Y/N. Leave.” He yelled, standing up with enough force to send her scampering back. He was never the kind of guy to have a temper, and the slightest raise of his voice sent Y/N into a spiral. “It wasn’t the team that got her killed, Y/N. It was you”. The way he spit her name brought tear to her eyes, as if she was disgusting and worthless. “You walked in without backup. You, with no experience in negotiation. It’s like you wanted her dead.”

“Spencer, you know I would nev-”

“I don’t want to hear it, Y/N! Her blood is on your hands, her parents lost a daughter because of you. It should’ve been you.”

“Please, Spence, you don’t mean that. You’ll work yourself up over it later, just please-”

“I do mean it. I wish it was you. Now leave”

“Spence-”

“Enough. Just leave. You’re no longer welcome here. You’re nothing to me.”

She had tried so hard to keep it together, but the venom behind his words was too much for her to take. She sobbed, grabbing her keys and walking towards the door. He had made himself clear.

“And on your way out, leave the keys. I don’t want you coming by again, Y/N.”

She paused, not daring to look back as she dropped them next to his wallet on the chest of drawers. She left without a word, holding it together until she got to the elevator. As soon as the doors closed she let out a loud sob, her hand coming to her mouth in an attempt to stay quiet. She knew he didn’t mean it, that he was overcome by grief and anger that was bottled up for too long and she just happened to be the victim. In a way, maybe it was better it was her so the others didn’t get their feelings hurt. It cut like glass, the way he referred to her as if she was so worthless. It cut deep.

Spencer had lost his love. And she had just lost hers.

She sniffled her way home and collapsed on the couch. She was too sad to cry, too tired to be angry. She almost felt nothing. She slept a dreamless sleep, feeling time pass her by as she later motionless in the dark room. It was peaceful in some ways.

When she awoke the next morning, she made sure to get there early. She marched straight into Hotch’s office and turned in her resignation. He could sense something was wrong but didn’t want to crack her already fragile state. When she was done clearing out her desk, the others had started to arrive. She embraced them all and promised to keep in touch. It had been an eventful few months she had told them, but it was time for her to go back to the hospital where she belonged. After all, it sounded better than “the man I love just shattered my heart into a million pieces by telling me I should have died, and now being around you all makes me physically sick.”

She looked back to her empty desk as the elevator doors shut. Maybe one day she would see Spencer again, when they were both healed, but for now she just had to grieve.

​

Love is our true destiny. We do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone - we find it with another. — Thomas Merton

[dolphin1812]

Thanks to Courfeyrac, we're starting off on a fun note:

“I have just met Marius’ new hat and new coat, with Marius inside them. He was going to pass an examination, no doubt. He looked utterly stupid.”

Poor Marius. He's trying! But apparently he's not great at fashion.

A brief political note:

"Near the basin there was a bourgeois forty years of age, with a prominent stomach, who was holding by the hand a little urchin of five, and saying to him: “Shun excess, my son, keep at an equal distance from despotism and from anarchy.” Marius listened to this bourgeois."

From this man's status (he's bourgeois, and the mention of his stomach may imply that he's well off because he's well-fed), we could make some assumptions about his politics. If he's well under this order, he may be in favor of some kind of constitutional monarchy (like that of Louis Philippe, which was popular with the wealthy segments of the bourgeoisie). "Despotism," then, could refer to absolute monarchy, while "anarchy" could be a more democratic order. That being said, it's notable that this language is so vague. We could speculate about what he means, but it would be just that: speculation. Given that Marius' own political leanings have become "sympathies," it's significant that he's listening; his beliefs are vague, too, and that can make this context-less statement sound a lot more acceptable than what it might mean. Marius himself approves of Louis Philippe, but that doesn't mean he might disagree with this man if they discuss what "despotism" means. This moment of vague politics suggests that many bourgeois Parisians were more interested in stability at the time than drastic change (hence the emphasis on moderation), but it also reminds us that Marius had a similar mindset, partly because he had come to accept vague principles rather than specific policies.

In terms of how Marius approaches "Mlle Lanoire," I normally think comparisons between romance and conquest are hit-or-miss (if the relationship is supposed to be nice, conquest isn't a great metaphor, but it can be great for deconstructing ideals about relationships), but I think it works well here because of Marius' past. He may not be a committed Bonapartist right now, but a lot of his self-discovery is tied to Napoleon and his father's military history, so using a military metaphor for another defining character moment fits into a larger pattern of how Marius understands himself and the world around him. It also adds an image of stiffness to his movements (enhanced by the reference to how he looks "mechanical"), which reminds us of his awkwardness.

His academic thoughts are also so funny:

"At that moment, he was thinking that the Manuel du Baccalauréat was a stupid book, and that it must have been drawn up by rare idiots, to allow of three tragedies of Racine and only one comedy of Molière being analyzed therein as masterpieces of the human mind."

I've heard that Molière became more popular during the Restoration, so that might explain his opinion (although I would love to learn more!). Judging curriculum choices like this is certainly part of being a student, though, so it's nice to see how Marius relates to his studies (and how he still has other stuff going on even now that he's in love! This is just one new aspect of his life, but he's dealing with everything else as well).

And this!:

“She could not, however,” he thought, “help feeling esteem and consideration for me, if she only knew that I am the veritable author of the dissertation on Marcos Obrégon de la Ronde, which M. François de Neufchâteau put, as though it were his own, at the head of his edition of Gil Blas.”

Some of Hugo's writing was in that edition and he wasn't credited for it, so this is both a moment of pettiness from the author and an attempt to show Marius' academic achievements (which is also funny, because who knows if this dissertation would really impress a random person? And he has no way of proving that he wrote it, either).

[therentyoupay]

Hey Kris 🥹 I’m in the process of re-reading my fav of yours TON. I’ve always wondered how you came up with that prompt and if you always had an idea of where you were going with it? And if you always knew it would be this big/long of a monster. Also what drew you to the ship of Tahno and Korra? But also how are you doing? How’s data collection and your summer going? Have you been doing anything fun lately? 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼 I hope you’re taking care of yourself!

HELLO MY LOVE. thank you, nonny, for your ask and for all of your sweet, thoughtful, considerate, lovely questions. 🥹💕 also, please know how much i deeply appreciate your ask and you still sticking around through all of my back-and-forth across fandoms! 💕😂 i always love and really appreciate that readers of my tahnorra, miraculous ladybug, and jelsa fanfiction are so willing to wait through the storm of rotating seasons (and sometimes, quite literally, as you know 👀🍁🍂🍃).

i made a post the other day like "this is it, it's autumn now, i have lit the apple wreath candle" and, as you might have surmised (and as you might similarly feel), this means we are officially heading into tahnorra season and that one night! 😂 time to drink café mochas (extra hot) and think about dissertations and crunchy leaves and autumn vibes!! 🍁🍂🍃☕️

i am already starting to feel the itch to finally write the last arc of that one night again, as soon as i finish the glorious, heart-consuming, soul-satisfying jelsa collab project with the gorgeously talented @callimara. ✨ and how beautiful it will be to finish this fic the same year as when i, personally, defend my dissertation???

could i have known back in 2012 that i would one day be wrapping up this mammoth of a fic 12 or so years later while finishing my own ph.d. program? (definitely low-key manifested my doctorate through this fic, i tell you 😂)

I’ve always wondered how you came up with that prompt and if you always had an idea of where you were going with it? And if you always knew it would be this big/long of a monster.

a monster, INDEED. 🤣

like at the center, it started as a series of micro-fic/drabbles/one-shots/single scenes occurring within the same AU! at that time in my life when i was first posting, i was wrapping up my undergrad, and transitioning to full-time work, so i didn't have a lot of time to write full-scale, plot-driven long!fic; however, in undergrad, i learned a very valuable lesson while attending one of our professional development trainings, which really proved to me the necessity of allowing myself time to dabble in creative hobbies like writing, even if i could only produce a little bit every day.

quick reminder and anecdote to PRIORITIZE and KEEP UP with your hobbies for your mental health (and the exact moment, 13 years ago, when i realized how truly important this really is):

at the life-changing professional development training, we learned strategies and framework-driven ideologies for how to spot concerns re: our residents' mental health, especially with the first-year college students who were in my building. at one point, the lecturer pointed out a fact that really resonated with me, based on my first three years of my undergrad:

in many cases, when a person moves to a new environment (new "life" or "lifestyle"), as is the case with many young adults moving to an independent college-based lifestyle and being on their "own" completely for the first time, the first things that "drop" from people's minds/behaviors/habits/lifestyles are their hobbies, especially if individuals associate their hobbies as part of their "old" lives or their "younger" selves.

i sat in the audience, totally shocked. "that's me??"

my middle/high school friends and i had been writing handwritten fanfiction to each other on fancy paper for christmas and birthdays for years (i still have all of them!!). i had written from age 11 to age 18 and then when i got to college i got so caught up in the "college life" (social life, academic work, parties, NEW hobbies), that i completely........ let go of writing creatively...... i hadn't even thought of fic in months.

that night, after the workshop, i went home and opened up FFNET for the first time in 3 years, and i read until like 3 in the morning. three months later, i got a comment on an OLD harry potter fic asking if i would ever update, and i posted a new chapter a few weeks later. 💕 and i have not stopped since! 😂

so the reason that stories like that one night and at the center exist is because i was trying my best to take the lesson to heart, to make sure i was always writing a little bit, all the time, (almost) every day. i started with an AU premise, i opened my tumblr askbox for prompts (in the case of that one night), i let myself imagine what kinds of scenarios could happen in this AU at this stage in the characters' development, and i thought of all the connections i could make between various characters/canon plot points/rapport-building between characters/backstories, and i wrote a little bit every day before and after work, and posted them pretty much immediately. 😂

the problem with cool thing about this kind of thought experiment, however, is that you end up accidentally creating rich, full, detailed mental landscapes and emotional contexts and goals and hopes and fears for the characters in them, and then before you know it a plot develops (and 14 more wild sub-plots appear!!!) and you're suddenly 100k 200k 300k words deep into the lives that you've constructed for these characters. 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 and now you've accidentally created a full-length, long!fic over the past decade, with extensively detailed slice-of-life!worldbuilding by accident!

thank you so much for letting me know that you RE-read that one night! 😭😭😭😭😭💕💕💕😭😭😭💕💕 it really means a lot!

Also what drew you to the ship of Tahno and Korra?

why do you ship tahno/korra? (post from may 10, 2013!!)

i also ship other ships in lok (including korra/asami!) but tahnorra has always always had a special place in my heart! as you'll see in the post, i have always really loved this kind of character, characters like tahno are SO interesting to me, and i always love to think about their backgrounds, the ways and whys of and hows of who they are. i was really drawn to this ship even when they were "evenly-matched" (@evenly-matched) rivals, and then once he lost his bending i wanted to explore the idea of a proper redemption arc/personal growth in tahno. 🙏 and then after i got to know their characters better (i.e., my interpretations of them) from writing the break the ice series, i decided that it would be fun to get to know them in a context that i, myself, was hoping to explore in my real life. 😂 i started to write that one night when grad school (master's degree) was just a goal on my radar! i continued writing it while i got my first master's degree, and, although i'd known for 10+ years that i would one day get a PhD, i never actually expected to be completing the fic the same year (and getting tahno to get his bio swamp phd 😂) the same year that i would get my phd. 😂💕

But also how are you doing? How’s data collection and your summer going? Have you been doing anything fun lately? 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼 I hope you’re taking care of yourself!

thank you so much you thoughtful creature, you. 😭💕 I AM DOING SO WELL, THANK YOU. data collection is going really well (all the time i can't believe that i'm getting paid to DO THIS, to develop this RESERACH, to study this!!!) and i imagine I'll still be collecting new data through november, and finalizing my analysis and diss manuscript in december (gotta submit it for committee review by january 1st!!!), so it's about to be BUSY, haha!

this summer, i have really been grateful to make money, work on my fun projects, be grateful for the ins and outs of learning to be a homeowner, spending time with family and friends, and reflecting on the past four years of my phd program, and the year ahead. 🥹 it's been a calm summer! i was really leaning into this 'calm before the storm' and i'm so ready to get back into the swing of academia and finally complete this beautiful doctoral program experience and finally finish half a decade's (and more, honestly) worth of hard work. 🥹💕

I’m in the process of re-reading my fav of yours TON.

seriously, this means so much to me. 😭😭😭😭😭😭💕 THANK YOU SO SO MUCH. i hope you have an AMAZING DAY, and that you're ready for ton!!autumn!!! thank you for your patience, your support, and your thoughtful, lovely, lovely ask 🥹💕 ilu!

[jinxie-117]

i think micolash and laurence were roommates at byrgenwerth so here’s a post abt random shit i think happened

ft. an utterly absurd no. of tense changes

they would have couple’s spats at 3am so loudly that everyone in the entire building would hear so EVERYONE knew that they were in a relationship and whatever they were arguing about

for the first couple of months their neighbours complained but after realising these losers were a lost cause just also started making a lot of noise to counteract it

they would have to split the room into exact halves and if one of the other’s possessions went slightly over the line then they’d start arguing

micolash would also start yapping in the middle of the night so laurence would kick him out and send him to gehrman who would send him to maria so that she could take him down into the chalice dungeons on a fun little expedition like he was some sort of dog going on a walk

despite all this they’re allowed to room together because the one time micolash got split up from him he just walked into laurence’s room, sat on his bed and just started talking to him as if laurence didn’t have a new roommate that was RIGHT THERE

it’s the way the room probably stank so badly cos of whatever shit they smoked in there…. maria opened the door to check on her besties every now and then and had to evacuate and go have a cry in her own room bc she nearly got suffocated

they will both clean each others sides of the room if things are busy or stressful for the other but despite this they are both too petty to not put everything back in the most absurd place

(laurence will still cross the room border to pick up micolash’s clothes and make sure they get put through the laundry)

(micolash will write whole dissertations and leave them on laurence’s bed for him to read when he doesn’t have any motivation)

(they don’t know how to help each other cos they’re both crazy but they try to get the other to function)

they both lay on the floor high out of their minds at 3am and make googly eyes at each other while they ponder the cosmos

tbh this is my favourite concept watch me put this everywhere

[hollymbryan]

Welcome to Book-Keeping and my stop on the HTP Books Summer 2023 blog tour! Today I'm featuring THE HOUSEKEEPERS by Alex Hay, which released on Tuesday 4 July. I've got all the details plus my review for you below!

About the Book

title: The Housekeepers

author: Alex Hay

publisher: Grayson House

release date: 4 July 2023

The night of London's grandest ball, a bold group of women downstairs launch a daring revenge heist against Mayfair society in this dazzling historical novel about power, gender, and class

Mrs. King is no ordinary housekeeper. Born into a world of con artists and thieves, she’s made herself respectable, running the grandest home in Mayfair. The place is packed with treasures, a glittering symbol of wealth and power, but dark secrets lurk in the shadows.

When Mrs. King is suddenly dismissed from her position, she recruits an eclectic group of women to join her in revenge: A black market queen out to settle her scores. An actress desperate for a magnificent part. A seamstress dreaming of a better life. And Mrs. King’s predecessor, with her own desire for vengeance.

Their plan? On the night of the house’s highly anticipated costume ball—set to be the most illustrious of the year—they will rob it of its every possession, right under the noses of the distinguished guests and their elusive heiress host. But there’s one thing Mrs. King wants even more than money: the truth. And she’ll run any risk to get it…

After all, one should never underestimate the women downstairs.

Add to Goodreads: The Housekeepers

Purchase the Book: Bookshop.org | Harlequin | Barnes & Noble | Books A Million | Amazon

About the Author

ALEX HAY grew up in the United Kingdom in Cambridge and Cardiff, and has been writing as long as he can remember. He studied history at the University of York, and wrote his dissertation on female power at royal courts, combing the archives for every scrap of drama and skulduggery he could find. He has worked in magazine publishing and the charity sector and lives with his husband in London. The Housekeepers is his debut novel and won the Caledonia Novel Award.

Connect with Alex: Website | Twitter | Instagram | Goodreads

My 4-Star Review

Thanks so much to HTP Books and Graydon House Books for inviting me to take part in the release week tour for THE HOUSEKEEPERS by Alex Hay! This one released on 4 July and is now available everywhere books are sold. I actually listened to the audio for this one and had so much fun (the narrator is fantastic!). I love historical fiction, and although I was expecting a bit more of a thriller (not sure why, that's on me), I really enjoyed this one very much! And it certainly was thrilling in its own way -- I mean, who doesn't love a good con artist + revenge scheme?! But this definitely has more of the upstairs v downstairs vibe we love to see in historical fiction, and even though they're thieves, you'll be cheering on our downstairs women as they execute this audacious plan to steal from the rich and give to the poor (namely, themselves 😂).

THE HOUSEKEEPERS was great fun to read and, again, I can't say enough about how great the audio narrator was. Her ability to switch between different accents was amazing, and you always knew which character was speaking because they were all distinct. I hope you'll check this one out, and let me know what you think!

RATING: 4 stars!

**Disclosure: I received an e-ARC of this book via NetGalley for purposes of this blog tour.

[teawitch]

How tumblr created the baby witch phenomena.

No, we didn't do it all on our own but we were a major player.

(Note: I'm writing this from recollection and not going to name accounts. But if anyone needs to do thesis or dissertation on the effects of social media on community and communication - may I suggest deeper research into "baby witch")

So, at no point before tumblr can I ever recall it being a thing to emphasize how new you were at witchcraft. Generally we tended to extend things in the opposite direction, even if we had to work in a few years where, well, we wouldn't have called ourselves a witch if asked about it then but, now that we think about it, it was leading to witchcraft. This meant "baby witch" was definitely not a term, unless perhaps you were at a Wiccaning.

Then came social media and witchblr (tumblr witches). When I first joined, the usual "I've been a witch X years" process seemed to hold. In fact, tumblr made it easier to make claims. Not only because there is no verification process but also because no one could see how young some of the "I've been a witch 5 years" claimants were. (Consider I was coming from a "real world" environment where you couldn't even take classes until you were 18. So a witch would likely heading towards 30 before being able to make that claim.)

Baby Witch

What went wrong.

Witchblr is a lot calmer now than it used to be. Gatekeeping? Nah, we had people building brick walls and throwing stones over them. There was at least one account created so people could yell anonymously about other witches posting on tumblr. Certain people became favorite victims.

Then the battle left tumblr. Well, not so much the battle as the spoils of war. People created tumblr accounts to follow the tags and then screenshot anything they felt that should be made fun of on other social media sites. Suddenly tumblr posts started appearing on instagram and facebook and elsewhere with people pointing out anything they felt was wrong.

The way this was done showed no intention of helping the OP understand witchcraft better but rather an attempt by a few to become "witchcraft influencers" by finding content to make fun of. And it is a lot easier to make fun of people on social media when you don't have to see them for a real person and aren't at any point confronted with the fact that you might be an adult attempting to humiliate a teenager. Not that we should humiliate anyone, but sometimes the accounts seemed to me to be particularly cruel in looking for young victims who might phrase something wrong.

Then it happened. Someone posted "look, I'm just a baby witch..." as part of their post. And we were off. Younger / Newer witches started adding "baby witch" to their posts to indicate - hey, I'm new at this. Incoming witches saw "baby witch" on other people's post and added it to their own. It became a tag and a way to share information for newer witches.

I knew it had migrated away from tumblr when I saw witches on Facebook complaining "why are people calling themselves baby witches?" 

Because we made them do it.

It's not like the communities overall attitude has changed that much. If it had, the whole baby witch thing would probably have faded away by now.

[ragingbookdragon]

My Brother's Best Friend Is The One For Me

Wally West x Batsis!Reader One-Shot

Word Count: 3.6K Warnings: Explicit Language

Author's Note: Got to rereading my Batsis fics and came across the "What A Flashy Romance" and wanted to do another one with Wally because I love him. Enjoy! -Thorne

Being the middle child and also the only girl in the Batfamily meant two things:

1. She had four brothers that treated her like a porcelain doll, despite the fact that she could throw a punch at 336 PSI.

And

2. She followed an unspoken rule that Dick and Jason’s friends were off limits when it came to dating.

In all, neither of those things were major problems. She’d learned at a young age how to avoid Dick and Jason’s overbearing-protective-brother-modes, and Tim and Damian were younger, so she didn’t have to worry about them. The second one was also avoidable—most of her older brothers’ friends were the same, and she wasn’t around most of them to develop any feelings.

Well, there was Wally, but it was just a crush. A stupid, little school-girl crush—that she’d never really grown out of—that didn’t matter in the slightest. Except whenever Dick brought him over to the house and she had to pretend that sitting next to him didn’t make her heart race like she’d run a mile.

And the most annoying thing about the whole crush is that she couldn’t tell if Wally was ever interested in her or not. Most of Dick’s friends, Garth, Kyle, Roy, they treated her like a little sister—hell, they even said “Love you lil sis!” to her regularly. And yet, Wally didn’t. Now, there was the occasional head pat, but even that was an affectionate gesture that siblings and SO’s did all the time. It was infuriating, and so was Wally—but she was going to sort it all out the next time he came over because the worst thing he could say was “No”, and either she needed to hear that…or “Yes”.

***

Normal Sundays for the Wayne household usually meant Ultimate Waffle Breakfast and sitting on your ass all day until patrol—it was the one day of the week where they could do anything and nothing and didn’t have to stick to schedules. Everyone loved Sundays, especially (Y/N), because it meant that all of her family was home, even Jason (who tried to deny that he enjoyed coming home to hang out, but if that mile long grin was any help, he was lying). And while everyone was home, that usually meant that everybody’s friends were coming over too.

***

She swiped the syrup out of Jason’s hand when he swung it back around, grinning at him when he glared at her.

“I was gonna use that, (Y/N),” he griped, and she shrugged, uncapping the bottle.

She tipped it over and watched the syrup lazily pour out of the container onto her waffles.

“You were taking too long.” Her eyes twinkled with humor. “I guess you were as…slow as molasses.”

While most of the table groaned at her terrible joke, Dick snorted into his milk, causing it to splatter on his plate and across the table.

“Nice one,” he coughed, wiping his face and the dark oak surface.

(Y/N) bowed dramatically. “Well, I did learn from the best.” When Dick’s face lit up, she turned to Alfred and smiled. “Alfie, thank you for teaching me your ways.”

The old butler merely tipped his head, a hidden smile crossing his lips at the way the eldest son’s jaw went slack. She turned her attention to Bruce who was quietly chewing, eyes following along the research paper she’d asked him to check out.

“Dad, what’s on your agenda for today?”

He swallowed and flicked a line out with a red pen, etching his own comment in the margin. “Lucius has a few ideas about some new gadgets he wanted to run by me.” Another line went out. “I’ll call him after breakfast.” Bruce looked at her. “You?”

(Y/N) nodded at the paper in his hands, then slapped Jason’s who was reaching over to take a piece of bacon from her plate. “Waiting for you to finish tearing me a new one so I can redo the paper.” She cut into the waffle with the side of her fork. “Once I salvage what little scientific dignity you’ve left me with, I’ll probably laze around.”

“You mean what you do normally?” Bruce quipped, grinning when she glowered at him; his eyes went back to her paper. “You’re doing well so far.”

She huffed. “Tell that to every red line you’ve marked out in that paragraph.”

He flashed the paper. “I’m writing in the margins how to change it. This isn’t a dissertation, sweetheart. You’re allowed to make mistakes. We all do.”

(Y/N) grumbled as her cheeks warmed and she went back to her plate as the conversation flowed around her.

Most of it was the discussion of what everyone was planning on doing, Damian was going to play video games, Tim was going to join him (which she knew was going to be fun while the moment lasted until the petty sibling rivalry got in the way and their gaming dwindled into a physical fight that she and probably Dick were going to have to break up), Jason was going to use the workbench in the cave to upgrade some gear, and Dick apparently,

“Wally and Garth are gonna come over later and hang out.”

She paused, mid-stab of her fork and looked at up. “Wally’s coming over?”

He nodded. “And Garth. We were gonna go to the mall and get some new clothes.”

Jason snorted, laying an arm over the backs of Tim and (Y/N)’s chairs. “Spending money with daddy’s credit card, Dickie?”

Dick smirked. “Just like you.” Jason merely matched his grin, and while the entire table was cracking up at Bruce’s frown, (Y/N) was silent, heart beating faster at the thought of seeing Wally.

“(Y/N)?” She startled and looked up at Dick.

“Huh?”

“I asked if you were okay. You got quiet all of the sudden.”

She smiled and shook her head. “Yeah, just thought about all of the corrections I’m gonna have to do because somebody CAN’T STOP MARKING OUT MY PARAGRAPHS.” Bruce merely smiled and knocked out another line.

It was a lie. It was the biggest lie she’d told right next to the one she told when Bruce had asked her where she was on prom night her senior year a few years ago—she was totally not saving a different sector of the universe with Kyle Rayner, she was dancing with Sam Reilly all night—she strongly believed her dad knew the truth—Batman knew everything.

Bruce handed the paper back to her and she groaned as she scanned the red lines on every page. It was going to take her hours to go over this.

Jason leaned over and read the title, “Cellular Division and Mutation Under Extreme Elemental Circumstances…a composition by (Y/N) Wayne.” He cocked a dark brow. “Go big or go home, huh, baby girl?”

(Y/N) hummed. “Doctor Halberd wanted us to pick challenging topics for the research paper this term.” A crooked smile crossed her lips. “I’m nothing if not ambitious about proving I’m smarter than everyone else.”

“You need another source,” Bruce murmured, sipping the steaming black coffee. “One-fourteen is good, but I’d go for one-fifteen.”

She groaned and dropped her head. “Are you kidding me? I had enough trouble gathering that many.”

“Why don’t you use Barry?” Tim piped up, mouth full of whip cream and strawberries.

“Master Timothy, we do not talk with our mouth full,” Alfred admonished, and Tim blushed.

(Y/N)’s head shot up and she stared at her brother. “That’s actually a good idea. Speedsters would make for perfect references about cellular division.” An idea popped into her head and she glanced at Dick. “And since Wally is com—”

“Nope,” Dick interrupted, pointing at her. “Wally is coming over to hang out, not to be poked and prodded to finish a paper.”

She let out a whine and turned to Bruce. “Dad, tell Dick to let me at least talk to Wally about it.”

Bruce turned his attention onto Dick. “Let your sister talk to Wally about her paper.”

“Oh, come on,” he complained and (Y/N) stood from her seat, hurrying around the table to stand behind Dick’s seat.

She draped herself over his shoulders, tucking her chin in the crook of his neck. “I promise I won’t be annoying if you let me come with you. I’ll ask two questions every thirty minutes and I’ll go do shopping on my own, so I won’t be in the way.” (Y/N) craned her neck and pulled the most pitiful puppy eyes she could. “Please?”

Dick’s eyes darted to her face and then he looked away. Just one more push.

“Please frate?” she begged and when his eyes went wide from the usage of his native tongue, she knew she’d won him over.

He deflated and let out a sigh. “Fine,” he grumbled. “You can come with us.”

(Y/N) squealed and pressed a kiss to his cheekbone, as she grabbed the paper and hurried towards the door. She halted and spun around, looking at her father.

“What do I need to be most specific about?”

“Division under elemental circumstances.”

She glowered at him. “No shit Sherlock. Specifics.”

“Molecular division under terrestrial gamma-ray flashes.”

“That’ll work,” (Y/N) nodded and exited to room.

Jason looked out the door then back to his brothers. “She’s way to excited about science sometimes.” They merely laughed.

***

She raised the red lace, cold shoulder V-neck shirt to her chest before frowning, and switching it with the full lace blue shirt with mini golden lightning bolt charms hanging off the trim. After a moment, she pulled the blue one down and sighed.

“You know, if you want to impress him, I’d wear the red shirt.”

She jumped and barely managed to suppress the scream that was coming up in her throat as she swiveled around to face her door. Jason stood in the doorway, a knowing look on his face. She could play this one of two ways: she could be truthful, or she could lie—she chose the latter.

“What do you mean?” He snorted and walked into her room, taking a seat at her desk.

“I mean if you’re trying to impress Wally, wear the shirt that’s the color of his suit, (Y/N).” She looked away and into the mirror, but she couldn’t escape the eyes boring into her back.

“Is it that obvious?” she asked quietly, and he laughed.

“That you’re head over heels for Dick’s best friend? Oh yeah. Totally.”

She sighed and sat on her bed, pulling the red top over her torso. “It’s just a crush.”

“Seems like more than a crush to me, baby girl.”

(Y/N) pulled the fabric down and looked at him. “Are you gonna tell Dick?”

Jason scoffed. “Do I look like a narc to you?”

She cocked a brow and deadpanned, “Just the other night you told dad that Damian lifted Two-Face’s wallet when he was being put in a cruiser.”

“Well, that wasn’t something important,” he countered and nodded at her. “This is.” He paused and shrugged. “Nah, I’m not gonna tell Dickhead. Play this out however you see fit, baby girl.”

(Y/N) stared at him for a moment then averted her gaze and let out a sigh; Jason huffed.

“That sounds like a heavy sigh, (Y/N). What’s wrong?”

She shrugged. “I don’t even know if Wally would be interested in me. He’s him and I’m me.”

Jason stood and walked over, kneeling in front of her. “Hey, what’s that supposed to mean?”

(Y/N) met his eyes. “Anytime he’s had a girlfriend she’s always been super strong or really outspoken.”

“And you’re not?” he quipped, causing her to huff.

“You know what I mean, Jay.”

He nodded. “Okay, so you’re not an Amazon or shoving your head up someone’s ass for a story. But you’re you.”

“And that means?”

“You’re the only daughter of the World’s Greatest Detective who’s a wicked smart science major by day and a badass vigilante by night.” He cupped her cheeks. “You are intelligent, warmhearted, talented, and absolutely beautiful.” Jason smushed her cheeks together and grinned as she giggled. “And if Wally doesn’t see any of what I just said, then he’s a damn fool and not worth your time. You hear me, baby girl?”

She nodded. “I hear you.”

Jason gave her a firm nod and let go, standing to his feet. “Now come on let’s go do your makeup.”

(Y/N) blinked. “You can do makeup?”

“Baby girl, I can do a lot of things. Now hurry up. That razor sharp eye liner and golden eyeshadow isn’t going to do itself.”

***

She waited beside Dick with a pleasant smile on her face, and despite the fluttering heartbeat in her chest, Jason’s pep talk kept running through her head and with every passing moment, she felt her confidence rising. He was right, if she told Wally and he didn’t feel the same, then it was his loss and her gain to move on and find someone else.

A black sedan pulled up at the manor and the passenger window rolled down, revealing Wally at the wheel and Garth in the passenger’s seat. Dick waved at them.

“Hey guys,” he greeted. “How was the drive over?”

“Oh, you know, we saw three carjacking’s and one armed robbery,” Garth quipped. “I assume that’s normal for Gotham though.”

“It’s a bit below average actually,” (Y/N) piped up. “Hi Garth. Hi Wally.”

Wally smiled and Garth waved in return as the two siblings started getting in the car.

“You’re coming with us, (Y/N)?” Wally questioned and she nodded.

“Do you want me to lie to you or give you the truth?”

He chuckled. “I’m always open for a good story.”

“I wanted to buy out Victoria’s Secret and piss off any boyfriends who are in hot water with their girlfriends.” The guys laughed and she admitted, “Truth though, I need one last source for a research paper.”

“Gonna find that source shopping?” Garth asked and (Y/N) caught Wally’s eyes in the rear-view mirror.

“Actually, my last source is Wally.”

They fell silent and looked at her, though the speedster’s focus was on the road.

“What are you gonna source Wally on?” The Atlantean inquired.

“My paper is over cellular mutation under distress from elemental conditions.” She smiled at Wally. “Our speedster here, is a walking subject perfect for the paper. I can only hope that he agrees to be a willing participant.”

Wally chuckled. “I’d be willing to part with a few secrets for you. Of course, I’d have to—”

“Remain anonymous.” (Y/N) winked. “I’m sure my professor would be okay with me citing ‘The Flash’ so long as I had a picture with him to back it up.”

“I like pictures,” he murmured, pulling into the parking lot.

“That’s good to know,” she replied and when he put the car in park, she took her purse and added, “So I’ll leave you boys to do your shopping and Wally, I’ll text you any questions I have.”

“You’re not gonna hang around?” Garth asked and she shook her head.

“Nah, I don’t wanna be the annoying little sister who follows her older brother and his friends around.” She smiled at them. “Besides, Dick was kind enough to let me come along. Least I can do is stay out of your way.”

(Y/N) opened the door and waved at them. “Text me when you’re ready to leave and I’ll meet you back here.”

***

Despite the initial joke that she was going to buy out the lingerie store, there was actually some truth in the statement, and she drew her fingers over one of the lace baby dolls as she looked at her phone, grinning like a dope at Wally’s response.

Well, I wouldn’t say I’d grow a second skin from how fast my cells regenerate, but I can make my body heal instantaneously. -W

Can you regenerate limbs or major organs? –(Y/I)

Major organs or useful ones? -W

(Y/N) paused at his response and thought for a moment. It was risky. Sending the text, she was thinking about was risky, but it’d sure get her point across that she was into him. With her heart hammering in her chest, she pushed send and stuck her phone in her pocket.

Whichever ones are useful to you, Wally? ;) –(Y/N)

Her phone didn’t buzz for a good minute, and Wally took less than a second to reply, so he was doing one of two things: A.) Telling Dick that his younger sister sent a flirty text, or B.) Trying to figure out how to let her down easy. (Y/N) didn’t know which one was worse. Her hip buzzed and she inhaled shakily, pulling her phone out of her pocket with one eye cracked open to see how screwed she was.

Do you have a useful one in mind, beautiful? -W

She had to clamp a hand over her mouth to keep from letting out the biggest gasp any human had ever made, and she nervously looked around her to make sure no one else was staring at her. She grinned as she replied to him.

Oh, I could think of one…or two or three…Why? Is there gonna be a pop quiz over this later? I’ll have you know I’m an excellent test taker. –(Y/N)

Is that so? Well, what happens if you were to fail this particular pop quiz, (Y/N)? -W

I guess you’d have to stay the night for a study session and help me make a better grade ;) –(Y/I)

As she waited for another response, someone’s hand touched the small of her back and she reacted, immediately stepping away from the offending touch to spin on them. Her eyes went wide when she saw Wally standing before her, a grin on his face, phone in his hand.

“I think an overnight study session is possible, (Y/N).”

Her mouth opened and closed repeatedly, like a fish until she finally got her brain to work and asked, “I thought you were shopping with Dick and Garth?”

He shrugged. “Told Dick you asked me an advanced question that’d be easier to answer in person than over text.” He wiggled his brows. “You know, advanced equations and scientific gibberish.”

(Y/N) huffed a laugh and turned back around, trying to ignore the heat in her cheeks as she picked up one of the teddies. And when she realized what it looked like, she only felt more flustered. Crimson with baby blue trimming and was practically a shoelace.

“Well, that’sa hint if there ever was one,” Wally quipped, and she pulled the lingerie out of his line of sight.

“It was just the first one I grabbed!” she exclaimed, snapping her mouth shut when people looked over at them. Her cheeks felt like they were wildfires, and she pressed her head against the cool metal of the rack, sighing with what little relief it provided.

“You know, (Y/N),” he started softly. “If you’re not comfortable, this doesn’t have to go anywhere. I can forget this ever happened if you want me to.” (Y/N) opened her eyes and peered at him, at the concern but also the kindness in his gaze.

“I just—” she murmured and trailed off before letting out a sigh. “It’s kinda complicated.”

“Okay,” Wally nodded. “My mouth might work faster than my brain sometimes but lay it on me.”

She cracked a smile and thought back on Jason’s words. If Wally doesn’t see any of what I just said, then he’s a damn fool and not worth your time.

(Y/N) took a deep breath and looked at him, admitting, “Wally, I have…feelings for you.” His eyes widened and though she felt the sting of embarrassment, she pushed out her words. “It’s stupid, like one of those dumb childhood crushes that just sticks with you, you know?”

She averted her gaze and looked at her peep toe heels. “I just don’t wanna screw anything up because even if you don’t feel anything like I do, I don’t wanna lose you as a friend. Because I do value your friendship.” She sighed. “And Dick. I don’t wanna make you uncomfortable about coming over to see him if there’s a chance you’ll have to see me too. I just—”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Wally interrupted gently, a smile growing on his face. “You’re thinking way big here, (Y/N). Bigger than you need to right now.”

She met his eyes. “Right now?” she repeated, and he reached out, taking her hand in his. His fingers felt tingly against her palm and he smiled.

“I like you, (Y/N).”

She blinked at him, practically dumbfounded. “You…you do?”

Wally nodded and confessed, “Have for a couple years, but I didn’t wanna make a move not knowing if you were interested.” His cheeks tinged pink, and he said, “But I’m glad you are. Like super glad.” (Y/N) giggled, suddenly feeling really foolish for all her worry and Wally let out a chuckle too.

She stared at him for a moment, relishing the coolness of his skin before pulling away, toying with the teddy in her other hand.

“So, about tonight…you staying over?”

Wally let out a groan and looked between her and the lingerie. “Probably, but I don’t know if I’ll be able to get away long enough to spend some time alone with you.”

(Y/N) let out a ‘pfft’ and winked. “I’m sure you’ll figure it out, Flash. You are the fastest man alive.”

“You’re into quickies? Good to know,” he grinned.

“Shut up,” she giggled.

[leiawritesstories]

Speak To My Heart

Rowaelin Month, Day 15: A bad day

Word count: 3422

Warnings: language, bit of depression, fighting. In short, there is angst in this fic. Hope the ending makes up for the rest.

Linguistics and foreign languages are two of my personal passions, so please bear with the bits of language talk that I couldn’t resist including. Brief word of clarification: a lot of expressions we use in English either translate into something extremely rude or don’t make sense in other languages. Translation companies have been trying for quite some time to make sure they don’t accidentally send a client a translated instruction manual that reads “fuck your mother” instead of “for questions, contact your local energy department.” All right I’ll get off my soapbox. :)

The phrases in foreign languages, marked with *, are translated into English at the end. Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Rowan’s day had been shit. The second he walked through the door, he’d been bombarded with an endless slew of crash reports, malfunctioning equipment, faulty passwords, and best of all, having to rewrite half the security firewalls because one of the rash young idiots in his department couldn’t be bothered to check his work for errors before sending it to management. And management thought it was the department boss’s job to fix all of his employees’ fuckups.

He hated IT.

Even more so since being promoted to department chair. 

All he wanted to do was the fun stuff--program design and development, fixing the flaws in his own designs, and of course making those who tried to break into his company’s systems regret their pitiful existence. But Cadre Tech’s bitch of a CEO refused to let the best software engineer on her staff actually do his job. 

Most days, he could cope with the pile of useless shit she directed to his desk. Most days. Today was not one of those days. Probably because on top of all the meaningless tasks he’d had to field, he was also forced to sit through one of Maeve’s bullshit “department head strategy sessions,” where every department chair had to pretend they gave a single shit about any word coming from their CEO’s garishly red, pinched mouth. 

As if she knew anything her staff actually did. 

Thanks to the compulsory meeting, Rowan was stuck in his office at nearly ten o’clock, painstakingly combing through the final draft of the update to CT’s translation program. This program had shot the company to fame and fortune, or at least insane stock value. “A Google Translate that actually translates,” their marketing department called it, and by the gods, that stupid slogan worked. And made sense. Rowan knew the program was just as good as it claimed to be.

He’d put in the hours, alongside a team of linguists, software engineers, designers, and people fluent in at least one other language. Frequent were the sessions where the project whiteboard turned into a jumble of words in twenty or more languages, Spanish alongside Arabic next to a column of simplified Japanese characters spilling over into a row of Cyrillic lettering. Rowan himself spoke German and some Spanish, but even he was lost amid the cacophony of eighteen different people switching from language to language, trying to figure out how idiomatic expressions translated from one language to another and what words should never, ever be placed together. 

It took the team well over a year of bickering, or as they called it, friendly linguistic disagreements, to make it from loosely mapped concept to functioning program. By the time it hit the market three years ago, the software had been so well promoted that companies all over the world snapped up their chance to finally communicate properly with the client they’d offended years ago with a bad translation. 

At launch, of course, Maeve stood in front of a sea of shouting reporters brandishing microphones, smiling her serpentine smile, and proceeded to thank the creative team for all their “contributions” before taking all the credit herself. 

Said creative team went to the bar that had become their usual gathering spot that night to get drunk and shit-talk their horrible boss, not necessarily in that order. 

His favorite memory of that night was hearing the chief linguist, an outside contract with multiple advanced degrees who spoke eight separate languages besides English fluently, refer to Maeve as “quella puttana rugosa che non riusciva a convincere un cazzo a venire a dieci metri da lei se si vestiva da figa.*” The Italian speakers on the team were crying with laughter, and so was everyone else, once she translated it.

And then she downed another shot of vodka and hissed something that sounded like “sukya bliyad, no puedo mich betrinken con esta ordures.**” When everyone blinked in confusion, she sighed and relayed the sentiment in English. 

Nobody had laughed as hard as Rowan. Aelin Galathynius just had that effect on him.

She brightened his darkest days.

But she couldn’t ease the strain of today.

And it was all his fault.

~

Aelin glanced up at the clock on her wall and cursed in three different languages when she saw that it was nearly eleven. Without meaning to, she’d spent all afternoon and evening writing lesson notes on idiomatic expressions. She really couldn’t help herself once she got into the topic; it was her pet project.

And the subject of one of her dissertations. Yes, she had multiple. 

She’d worked her ass off for years to get through college, then through graduate and doctoral work while teaching at universities to offset costs, then earned a full-time teaching position at one of the top-ranked universities in the world. She got to teach linguistics, her lifetime love, and give guest lectures at other universities and at conferences, teaching people all over the world about the complexities and interrelatedness of language. Hell, she spoke ten; she’d be qualified to speak on linguistic relationships by virtue of that alone.

Gods, she was the chief linguist behind the most successful translation software ever produced. Even if the bitch who owned the rights to said software had literally threatened to sue over ownership rights if any of the people who’d poured their figurative blood and sweat and literal tears into building the program tried to claim a small piece of the credit each of them so richly deserved. 

That software and her role in its creation--even though Maeve Ond had claimed the public credit, the creative team spoke at interviews and made news features for their work in Cadre Tech’s massive success--had solidified her credentials as a professor of linguistics, had boosted her into her lecturer spot.

Last year, her university granted her tenure. 

She should have been overjoyed, and she was, but not as much as earning tenure deserved. 

Because there was nobody to share her joy.

Three years ago, in the wake of CT’s overnight jump to worldwide fame, Aelin fled a love she did not and never would deserve. 

She told herself she would never look back. But she did. Almost every day, she looked back at the life she’d shared with Rowan and tried to convince herself that she did the right thing.

Try as she might, she could never silence the whisper that echoed always in her mind. 

“You broke both of your hearts” 

Someday, she told herself, someday she would be back in Doranelle. Someday, she would have a chance to apologize. Someday, maybe she could fix the Rowan-shaped chasm that gaped wide in her heart. 

Yet here she was, sitting in a very nicely appointed hotel room in the university district of Doranelle, typing furiously away as if burying herself in notes and prep for tomorrow’s lecture could make the urge to contact Rowan disappear.

~

Three years earlier. Doranelle.

“Knock, knock.”

Rowan’s head jerked up from where it had most definitely not been slumped on his desk. “Wha--Oh. Hi, Aelin.”

“You’re falling asleep, buzzard, let’s go home.” He heard laughter in her soft voice. 

“As if you won’t just get home and start cross-checking every single one of the phrases on your ‘potential problem’ list.”

She chuckled, walking over to him. “Fine. We’re both perfectionist work whores. Doesn’t mean we don’t need sleep.”

“I know you too well to believe you’re actually going to sleep.”

“All right, you win. Come home now, I’ll make some food, and you can put me to bed.” She winked saucily at him, leaving very little doubt what putting her to bed would entail, and he was up out of his chair in seconds. 

“Hand over your computer, Fireheart,” he grinned as they walked into the small house they shared on the outskirts of the city. 

“What?”

“Your computer, love. I’m leaving both of our work bags on the shelf by the front door so we can actually catch some rest tonight.” He pressed a finger to her mouth to silence her protests. “Uh-uh, Ae, we have interviews tomorrow and I won’t let the genius behind this program’s flawless word-to-word be anything but well-rested.”

She sighed, but he saw the love in her eyes. “Here, then, my dear brilliant software engineer. Leave your notebook, too, because I know if it’s anywhere near you, you’ll be up at three in the morning scribbling blocks of gibberish and picking apart your faultless code until you go insane.”

Both of their work satisfactorily put aside, Aelin made good on her promise to cook Rowan dinner. 

And then he made very good on his promise to put her to bed. 

The next morning, they were both awake with the sunrise, content to lay curled in each other’s arms as the morning light spread across their room.

Rowan drifted back into sleep, waking for good when he caught a whiff of coffee from the kitchen’s direction. 

“Morning, you sleepy buzzard,” Aelin grinned, sipping from her mug.

Rowan dropped a kiss on her head as he reached for his mug. He took a long drink, sighing as the milky, sweetened caffeine hit his mouth. 

“I will never understand how you drink your coffee black, Fireheart.”

“Not all of us need to sweeten the hell out of coffee to drink it, Ro. Maybe if you can’t handle the real thing, you should go back to your pretty little cups of crappy cafe tea.”

“Mention my pretty little teacups again, Ae…”

She giggled. “You be quiet and drink your coffee-flavored milk, my love.  We both know you’re impossibly grumpy until you have caffeine in your veins.”

He grumbled something unintelligible as he drank his coffee.

They were nearly late to work that morning, even having planned an extra half hour to arrive, thanks to Aelin wearing what Rowan dubbed her “sexy professor suit.” She fixed the pins in her French twist in the car, making herself once again a portrait of professionalism, and slipped Rowan’s hand from her leg.

“Two hands on the wheel, Whitethorn.”

He pouted. “But I’m a safe driver and I want to hold your hand.”

“My hands are over here, love, not down by my skirt.”

When he pulled into his spot, Aelin closed her eyes and took a deep, slow breath. 

“You good, Fireheart?”

Gods, she loved hearing him call her that. “Yeah. I just…needed a moment to settle myself. To tell myself the cameras aren’t here to tear apart what I say.”

Rowan wrapped his hands around hers. “Dr. Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, the bland reporters are here to stand in awe of your expertise. Not a single word you say will come across as anything but brilliant and beautifully said.”

She squeezed his hands, her usual confidence returning. “I love you, buzzard.”

“I love you too, Fireheart. Let’s go talk about our amazing achievement.”

The day sped by in a blur of reporters, interviewers, teleprompters, practiced speeches, lights, cameras, and crew. When the last bleached-blonde anchor of the last interview of the day cut her crew’s cameras, Aelin flopped against her second-in-linguistic-command, Dr. Nehemia Ytger, the expert on ethnic African languages. 

“If I never see a news crew again, it’ll be too soon,” she sighed. “I’m beat.”

Nehemia snickered. “But we’re done talking about how proud we are that Maeve and her marvelous company have done such a grand service to the world.”

Aelin snorted softly. “Right. And now we servicepeople want to go home and take off our heels.”

“Amen to that.”

As the team filed out of the studio, Rowan made his way over to Aelin. “Holding up?”

“Not anymore,” she said, leaning casually into his side. “My heels are killing me, there’s a hairpin stabbing into my scalp, and I really, really need to pee.”

Rowan laughed, deep and husky. “Let’s get you home, then.”

“I’m stopping in the bathroom first.”

Just before she left the ladies’ room, Aelin heard voices in the break area. Familiar voices--Rowan’s, Maeve’s, and the snippy, borderline whiny tones of Remelle Frelau, who worked in the marketing department and had a hell of a boner for Rowan. 

“--looking at revenue over--” Maeve’s voice cut out, but from the gasps of the other two, the revenue was through the roof. 

“And it’s all thanks to this genius here,” drawled Remelle, who if Aelin had her guess was probably clinging onto Rowan like a platinum-blonde leech. 

“Ms. Frelau, this was the product of a team. No single person could possibly have made it happen alone.”

“Oh, call me Remelle, or even better Remy. And you’re the team leader, so you practically did create it by yourself.”

Aelin snickered to herself. Vapid bitch had no idea what she was saying. 

“That’s not how teams work, Ms. Frelau. We wouldn’t be here without Dr. Galathynius and Dr. Ytger’s language expertise, not to mention the creative genius of the engineers, graphic designers, linguists, and programmers.”

“Ms. Frelau, though her judgment is clearly biased, has a point, Mr. Whitethorn,” Mave said. “You demonstrated remarkable collaborative leadership qualities throughout this project, and I fully expect that you will continue to do so.” Maeve’s heels clicked away. Rowan’s voice followed her.

“Thank you, Ms. Ond, but I have to credit Dr. Galathynius--”

“Will you stop kissing that woman’s ass?” snorted Remelle. “Gods, she’s not worth your time or your praise; all she does is translate words into different languages and you idiots drool over that like it means anything.”

Aelin jerked like she’d been slapped. She knew Remelle was a self-centered, shallow, spiteful bitch, but she hadn’t known she would do this.

“--did more for this project than you and your useless whiteboard of catchphrases,” growled Rowan. 

“I don’t care what she ‘did for the project,’ Rowan, she’s never going to be good enough for you.”

“Thank you for caring about my welfare, Frelau, now please kindly fuck off.”

Aelin chose that moment to saunter out of the bathroom and head straight for Rowan, her face showing no hint of having heard that conversation. She did note with satisfaction Remelle’s vain attempt to march out of the room with some semblance of dignity. Too bad her heel caught on the seam of the hallway carpet and the break room’s tile flooring and she had to grab the doorframe to keep from collapsing. 

“You’re awfully quiet, Aelin.”

“Just thinking. Processing, really. It’s been a hell of a day.”

Rowan nodded. “I bet.”

“And hearing fucking Remelle rip into me for being useless…didn’t make it better.”

“Shit, you heard that?”

“Yeah. I heard that.” Her voice was hollow. 

Rowan pulled into their driveway and shut off the engine. Reaching across the console, he cupped Aelin’s face in his hands. “Aelin. You are brilliant. You are terrifyingly smart. You are a force of nature. Nothing, nothing you will ever do is useless. Don’t let that jealous bitch make you think you are less than the perfect woman.”

She smiled tentatively at him. “She…she told me before that last interview that I could never be enough for you. Because you--because of Lyria.”

Rowan raked a hand through his hair. “Ae, can we talk about this inside?”

That night, he told her about his former fiancé, Lyria. He told her about their whirlwind romance, their youthful dreams. He told her about the horrific crash that stole away Lyria’s life. A drunk trucker, a narrow pass in the mountains. He showed her the box in which he kept all the memories of that life. He cried. Aelin cried. He curled against her, let her comfort him.

“Sometimes, I wish she was still here. She’d understand everything. She always did.”

Aelin had no response. She let Rowan fall asleep, his weight shifting off her and into his bed, and looked through the box. Everything she saw served as another reminder that this was the first woman he loved, the woman who understood everything. 

She was worthy of him. 

But was Aelin?

The more she looked at Rowan and Lyria’s happiness, the more the answer solidified. 

No.

When Rowan woke up the next morning, Lyria’s box sat on Aelin’s side of the bed, a side that had not held Aelin.

He glanced out the window.

Her car was gone.

He got up and frantically paced through the house.

Everything she’d brought into his home was gone.

As was she.

~

Present day. 

Rowan opened his front door mechanically, pulled off his shoes, dropped his work backpack on its shelf, and was halfway to his bedroom before he realized he’d just opened his front door. His front door that was always locked. 

Someone was in his house.

Someone who either had a duplicate key or insanely good lockpicking skills.

Exactly one person owned a duplicate key to his house.

Aelin.

That’s impossible, she lives in Orynth, she can’t be here, he told the traitorous part of his brain that leapt with joy at seeing Aelin’s face again.

He turned around and made his way through the kitchen--nobody there--to the living room. He flicked on a lamp, casting a soft light around the room.

And nearly had a heart attack.

Aelin Galathynius sat on his couch. 

For a moment, he just gawked at her. She looked so…different. Older. Gone was the infectious smile that had captured his heart. Dark shadows smeared under her eyes, testament both to the long hours she devoted to her work and to recent sleepless nights. She was twisting a ring on her right hand, a familiar sign of her nerves. From his angle, Rowan could see a hint of dark script on her wrist. A tattoo. The Aelin he knew didn’t have tattoos.

“I’m not a ghost.” Her voice, weary and hollow, broke the tense silence.

Rowan crossed the room, propped an arm on the fireplace. “Why?”

“Why am I here? Why did I leave? Why did I cut you out of my life?”

“Everything.” He couldn’t keep the waver from his voice, but his eyes burned into hers.

She took a steadying breath. “I’m here to apologize, first of all. I’m here to face what I ruined and to try and start mending it. I’m here to come to terms with everything I broke when I left three years ago.”

Whatever he’d expected her to say, it certainly wasn’t that.

“I’m sorry, Rowan. I’m sorry I left like that. I was…I was scared.”

“You can’t just run away from your fears, Aelin!” He couldn’t keep the frustration from his tone. “You can’t just abandon someone when you have a bad day!”

“I’m sorry! I know I shouldn’t have left! I know I can’t run from my fears; I’ve spent the last three years trying and fucking failing to do that! But I don’t know what else to do.”

“Saying something about it would have been a good first step.” 

“I’m bad at emotions, Rowan. I tried. It wasn’t enough.”

“That’s not a good enough excuse.”

Aelin flicked a tear from her face. “I know.” Her shoulders slumped. “I’m so sorry, Rowan. I should never have left. I let some stupid comment root into my head and make me doubt myself. I made myself believe I would never be good enough for you. I left you. I loved you, and I still left you. I still love you, even though I’ve tried to suppress it. I can never make up for that. I…I just wanted to tell you how much I’ve regretted that horrible decision all these years. I want you to be happy, Rowan, I--”

“How am I supposed to be happy without a source?” He’d dropped onto the couch, close enough to touch her but still keeping his distance.

“What?”

“You didn’t just take yourself away, Aelin. You were my happiness. I’ve spent three fucking years trying to make myself believe I’m better without you in my life, and I can’t.”

She was unabashedly crying by that point. “What do you want me to do? How can I make up for abandoning you?”

“Stay.”

Her gaze locked onto his, both of their eyes pooling with tears.

“Stay with me, Fireheart.”

“But--”

“I never stopped loving you either.”

A choked sob ripped out of Aelin. Rowan couldn’t hold himself in check any longer; he reached out and tugged her gently into his arms. To his shock, she didn’t resist, burying her face into his chest as sobs shook her shoulders. When she calmed, he tilted her chin up.

“Will you stay, Aelin?”

“Yes. Even though I will never deserve your forgiveness, yes.”

~

Translations:

* = “that pinched old whore who couldn’t convince a dick to come within ten metres of her if she dressed up provocatively” (Italian)

** = loosely translated as “Fucking hell, I can’t get drunk off this garbage.” (in order, Russian (badly phonetically spelled out because Rowan POV), Spanish, German, Spanish again, French) (the Russian doesn’t directly translate, so it could mean several different variations of expletive)

~

Might there be a second part? Perhaps......

[young-dumb-and-vaccinated]

Cult Girl: Doctorate (Hannibal x Female!Reader) pt. 2

Oils

Cult girl socializes at the opera and receives an unexpected call. 

Note: I tagged this as “anti mlm” as in multi-level marketing and not men-loving-men. 

Trigger warnings: Discussions of cults and emotional manipulation

It wasn't until after the opera was over that people began to notice you may have had a little fun during intermission. Hannibal's hair wasn't in its usual perfect side part and his jacket was slightly wrinkled in places. You could cover most of his love bites with your stole, but nothing could hide that post-orgasm glow.

Most opera-goers stayed to socialize for hours after the show concluded, making an already long night even longer. It was like clubbing, but for rich old people.

"So you're the future Mrs. Hannibal Lecter?" A woman with silvery hair said. She dragged her husband into the conversation by the arm. "I've heard so much about you."

You were about to say something witty, but noticed the way she was looking at you. Scanning you up and down. Looking for anything out of place to grill you about.

"Only good things, I hope." Hannibal said in your silence. His voice was vaguely threatening. "She is a doctoral student, in her second year of her graduate studies in clinical psychology."

The husband, who, up to this point, hadn't spoken a word, perked up. "Is that right?"

You smiled, excited for the chance to talk about your passion. "Yes sir. I've still got quite a ways to go, but I love my work."

"You should be proud." The man praised, looking at Hannibal. "You've got yourself an ambitious wife."

"Oh, we're not married yet." You corrected.

"So when can we expect an invitation?" The woman asked.

"Six months from now, isn't it?" Hannibal answered. "Memorial day weekend. Then I'm taking her to Italy for a lengthy honeymoon."

The woman threw her head back and sighed. "That sounds heavenly."

"You young modern girls are always so intuitive." The man commented. "I'll bet you tricked him into marrying you."

You wanted to call this guy out for his sexist bullshit, but he wasn't far off. It was Hannibal who tricked you, though.

Technically, he proposed to you within the first six months. You just didn't know it. It took until shockingly recently to find out.

It was during a ballroom dancing lesson of all places. You were sweaty, but loved the feeling of your lover's hands gently guiding your movements. You stepped away from the lesson to get some water, and innocently asked when he would propose to you.

"I believe I already did." He said with enough conviction to blur the lines of seriousness and sarcasm.

"You pretended to." You corrected. "Remember? We were just pretending to be engaged for Anna's wedding."

"But it didn't end after the wedding, did it?" He observed. "You kept calling me your fiancé long after that weekend passed."

You paused, then threw your head back in exasperation. "Oh my god, Hannibal."

Hannibal laughed. "I told you. Someday it won't be a lie."

"You're a piece of shit, you know that?" You pressed your fingers to your temples. "So we've been engaged this whole time?"

"What can I say?" He said, gently. "I knew you were my one and only even then. It was just a matter of circumventing your inhibitions."

"I'm not complaining." You folded your arms. "But a little notice would have been nice."

"Well, if you insist." He laced his fingers between his own. "[F/N] [L/N]. Will you be my wife?"

Even though the question was truly just a formality, you were still as giddy as a schoolgirl to hear those words.

"Yes, Hannibal Lecter." You said, cheeks stinging from smiling so hard. "I will marry you."

Then you just went back to the dance lesson like nothing happened. It was shockingly in-character for both of you.

"No." You shook your head. "We killed someone together and took a blood oath to never separate."

The couple laughed. Hannibal looked down at you with pride.

“So [F/N].” The man said. “Have you given any thought to your doctoral dissertation?” 

“Oh, Charles.” The woman rolled her eyes. “I’m sure she didn’t come here to be grilled about her studies.” 

“No, it’s okay.” You smiled. As long as you were talking about school, you weren’t being interrogated about the thirty-year age gap between you and Hannibal. “I have been thinking about my dissertation. There are plenty of fascinating topics to choose from, but I can’t not write it about, well, the reason I began to study psychology in the first place.” 

“And that is?” The man raised an eyebrow.

“Cults.” You said, grinning ear to ear. “Understanding them, their leaders, their followers, why people join them. How they evolve and grow more insidious as time passes. What form they’re starting to take in the digital age.” 

“That is interesting.” The woman’s voice rose, connoting genuine engagement. “And what form are they taking in the digital age?” 

You looked up at Hannibal, as if to ask for permission. Permission to rip into her and burn that bridge for good. He answered in the affirmative. 

“Ma’am, could I take a look at your bracelet?” You asked, already knowing exactly what she would say. 

Her face lit up. “Oh, do you like it?”

She pulled it off her wrist and handed it to you. You brought it to your nose and took a whiff, confirming your theory. Then you handed it off to Hannibal, whose sense of smell was much more refined. He took one breath, then recoiled. 

Hannibal covered his mouth and nose with his hand and coughed. “That is... quite strong, Mrs. DeMarco.” 

“It’s Affirm, by doTERRA.” She revealed, her voice growing defensive. “It helps you ground yourself and remember your worth.” 

You handed the bracelet back to her. “Do you sell doTERRA, Mrs. DeMarco?” 

“Well, now that you mention it...” A small smile appeared on her lips. “Why? Would you like to buy some?” 

“I hate to be the one to tell you this, ma’am, but...” You lied. “You’re actually in a cult.” 

She had nothing to say to that. She just stared at you with her mouth agape, urging you to explain yourself. 

“Multilevel marketing companies employ a host of cult manipulation tactics to con people out of their savings.” You explained. “Just because the promise is financial independence instead of a spot in paradise, doesn’t mean it’s not a lie. Research conducted by the Federal Trade Commission shows that the vast majority of participants actually lose money. The statistics are just a google search away, yet thousands of people still insist on the legitimacy of the companies they sell for.” 

“Well, I-” She protested, but couldn’t find the words to defend herself. “I’m there for the community, really. For the first time in years, I have a sisterhood of like-minded women who love me!” 

You smiled through a cringe. “That’s another pretty common cult manipulation tactic. They appropriate familial language to make people feel more connected to the group than they really should be.” 

Although you didn’t expect her to, she looked to be genuinely considering it. 

“Next time you see your ‘sisters’,” You began. “Pay attention to how they talk about people who are not in the group. Or, better yet, tell them that you’re considering leaving. You’ll see how conditional their love is.” 

An awkward, deafening silence followed. The woman looked at her husband, as if willing him to do something. To stand up to the evil twenty-something grad student who had the audacity to cite her sources. 

Instead, the husband just burst out in riotous laughter. 

“Miriam!” He nearly shouted, heaving like he was about to collapse. “I told you that oil business was up to no good! No honest company makes their employees pay to work!” 

The woman’s face turned red. You almost felt bad for her. The feeling vanished when the man put his hand on your shoulder. 

“Seriously, Dr. Lecter, you’d better keep this one.” He said, wiping a tear from his eye. “She’s an absolute godsend.” 

“No divine intervention was involved whatsoever, Dr. DeMarco.” Hannibal smiled to himself and brought a glass of champagne to his lips. “She is a woman of her own making."

"Oh, we all know that's not entirely true." The woman snapped, slipping into passive-aggression. She glanced at Hannibal. "How much are you spending on this mouthy little know-it-all? Isn't it about $80k a year?"

You, of course, brought this on yourself. You threw down the gauntlet by going after this girlboss's side hustle, so now nothing was off-limits.

"I wouldn't worry about that, Mrs. DeMarco." Hannibal said, calmly. "My soon-to-be wife's education is a much better investment than that overpriced napalm you wear on your wrist."

You couldn't help but laugh at that. It was a laugh you shared with the man. Hannibal looked down at you, admiring how your face lit up.

"You'll forgive my wife's rudeness." The man requested. "Please, Ms. [F/N], tell me more about your dissertation."

"Well," you laced your fingers together. "I'm planning to write my dissertation on the cult of academic elitism."

"I would tread lightly, dear." The woman warned, eyes darting to Hannibal. "You wouldn't want to bite the hand that feeds you."

You adjusted your stole, giving them a quick glance at the love bites along your neck.

"I assure you." You said. "He quite likes it when I bite."

Your clutch started to aggressively, audibly vibrate. You could have sworn you'd put your phone on silent, but it buzzed nonetheless.

"Probably just, y'know-" you stuttered, embarrassed. "An amber alert or something."

"We are expecting a snowstorm, I believe. I was warned of it a few minutes ago." Hannibal said, always ready to cover your ass whenever needed. The couple nodded along in understanding.

You pulled your phone from your clutch. Your eyes widened and your face turned sickly pale at the sight of a caller you thought you’d never hear from again. Without thinking, you slid the deny icon across the screen. 

“Right.” You said, tucking your phone and your secrets back into the clutch. “Winter Storm... Theresa is headed this way.” 

Hannibal cleared his throat. “In that case, [F/N] and I must take our leave before we get snowed in. It was very nice catching up with you. I will see to it that [F/N] and I have you for dinner very soon.” 

[broadstbroskis]

the wedding date | morgan rielly

a/n: well first things first, i’m gonna give a shoutout to myself, because i started this fucking thing back in august and it’s finally completed (that’s right, it took me 7 months to write just under 5k, shhh, it finally came together). 

anyway, since i started this back in august, you can tell i’ve had this idea for a while. it’s morphed and changed a bit but the basic premise has stayed the same- you go home with morgan for a wedding and everyone thinks that you’re the girl he’s been dating for the last few years- so i hope you all enjoy! (also i’m sorry i suck at titles but like i’m not)

a special shoutout to these lovely people who have listened to me whine about this at any point over the last SEVEN MONTHS and some fellow mo lovers because you’re all amazing and i love you, @denis-scorianov, @brockadoodles, @danglesnipecelly, @laurenairay, @hockeyboysiguess

-----

When Morgan approaches you, with what you’ll later learn is only his first attempt to ask you something, you don’t even give him the chance, really. “Hey, what are you doing this summer?”

“Not you.” You quip back, grinning cheekily, ignoring the barks of laughter from Matthews and Marner beside him.

“Haha.” Morgan deadpans, but it’s busy that night at the bar, Saturday night after a Leafs win, and you’ve really got to get back to work now that you’ve finished serving them, so you’re already walking away from him.

The second time it happens is a Friday night, a few weeks later, when you’re out with some friends for the first time all semester. It’s late enough that you’re feeling just on the right side of tipsy, you’re drunk enough that you know you’re going to go home with the guy you shouldn’t, and you’re okay with both of those things. 

At least, tonight you are. Tomorrow morning will be a different story.

And then, Morgan stops you at the bar. “Hey.”

“Hey!” You grin back...and then it slowly fades as he just hems and haws. “What’s up?”

“I-” He blows out a frustrated groan.

Your eyebrows raise. You’ve known Morgan for years now, since his first season with Leafs had been right about when you started working at the bar for some extra cash after realizing just how expensive school was getting and grad school would be beyond that. You’re not sure you’ve ever seen him at such a loss for words. “Alright, well if you can’t think of it now, get back to me later, okay?”

“Wait-” He says, so you give him a minute or two, but there’s still nothing.

“Ok, I love you, but this is my one night out before my dissertation is due later this spring.” You tell him, reaching out for a hug. “You have my number and you know where to find me.”

“Ok.” Morgan smiles a little. “Have fun tonight.” And then you slink away from him, back in the direction of your friends, ready to let loose one last time before the craziness sets in.

The night that Morgan finally gets his question out is a quiet one in the middle of the week. He settles himself into the corner, doing his best to be discrete with a hat covering his face. By the time you and your coworker get everyone settled with drinks and you make your way over to him, he’s caught the attention of one older man, who immediately walks back to his girlfriend when you arrive at Morgan’s section of the bar.

“Well finally.” He’s free of all teammates, a rarity but not unheard of, especially this late in the season. “What’s a guy gotta do to get some service around here?”

“Oh sorry!” You tease. “Did I interrupt something here? Did you want me to call that guy back up so you guys could finish up?”

He flattens you with a look. “Don’t you dare.”

You giggle, leaning down against the bar in front of him. You know how much he loves the Toronto fanbase, but as playoffs approach, the fans are becoming more vocal and more forward with their thoughts. “You want another drink?”

He looks down at his glass, contemplates for a minute, and then nods, so you return quickly with a new beer for him and then smile as you watch him take a large gulp of it. “So what’s new?”

“Ehh loaded question.” He says cryptically. You give him a look. “But hey, you’re here on a Wednesday! You done with your...dissertation?” He trails off hesitantly, smiling at himself when you nod.

“Yup. I should know next week if I’m all clear.”

“And then?” He prompts.

“And then you can call me doctor, asshole.” You tease.

“I mean, Dr. Asshole isn’t what I would have gone with as my first choice, but if that’s what you want…”

“Morgan!” You laugh, ducking your head at the lame joke.

He’s grinning when you meet his eyes again, pleased as always that he could make someone laugh. “But seriously, that’s awesome! I’m excited for you.”

“Thanks.” You grin.

“What’s your next step then?”

“Umm I get to start researching infectious diseases for money.” You tell him excitedly, since you’d accepted a job with the University of Toronto’s medical research facilities. “But it doesn’t start until August.”

You’d expected Morgan to tease you about your excitement of infectious disease-something he and his teammates (among many other people you know) have done multiple times before-but instead, he perks up and says, “So you’d be free, on say, the weekend of July 8th?”

“Why?” You ask suspiciously. Experience has told you not to immediately say yes to this.

Morgan sighs. “Look. I need a date for a wedding back home that weekend.”

“And I’m the best you could come up with?”

“Best?” Morgan repeats. “You are funny, you’re pretty, you’re a doctor, all of which, frankly, puts you well out my league.”

“You’re not wrong.” You agree cheerfully, which puts the smile back on Morgan’s face, as you’d hoped. “But that doesn’t explain why you’d need a date to this wedding.”

The smile fades quickly and you wince. “I was supposed to go with Laura.”

You frown. “What happened to Laura?” Last you’d heard, the two of them were solid. Really solid. Headed for a wedding themselves, solid.

“She wasn’t who I thought she was.” He says flatly.

You wince. “I’m sorry, Mo.”

He shrugs. “It’s over and done with now.” You send him a reassuring smile. “So will you come?”

Well, there’s really no way you can say no now and not feel like an asshole. “Sure.”

The grin returns to his face. “Knew you’d come through for me.”

-----

Morgan rolls up to the airport in Vancouver to pick you up in a very fancy looking Jeep, a far cry from the sporty Porsche he drives in Toronto, and you call him out on it immediately. “I see how it is. You go home and you’re a fancy country boy, not a fancy city boy?”

He laughs. “Fuck off.”

“Gladly.” You tell him, grinning teasingly. “Drop me off at departures, will ya?”

His tone immediately turns serious. “Thank you. Seriously. Thanks for coming.”

Your smile remains on your face, still beaming over at him. “It was nothing, Mo.” It wasn’t, really, and you both know it. You’d quit your bar job a couple weeks early because of this, but you were happy to do this for him. He’d been down about Laura, down about being bounced from the playoffs again. This spring had been rough on him and you were more than happy to do your part to cheer up one of your closest friends.

Morgan hmms, in a way like he’s pretending to be casual about it, but he changes the subject as he switches lanes to pull onto the highway.

-----

Morgan has a whole itinerary for the next few days, prior to the wedding, but promises he’ll take you around to some of his favorite spots before you leave late next week. A quiet night tonight, dinner with his parents and brother tomorrow, and then the wedding stuff began the following day.

Much like his fancy Jeep, his fancy house in Vancouver is also nothing like the condo he owns in Toronto. You wouldn’t go so far as to say that his condo is...edgy, but it’s pretty modern? The house here in Vancouver is larger, sure, but reminds you a lot of the house you grew up in...or well, a larger and fancier version of it.

“Gonna give me a tour?” You turn to Morgan, who’s standing next to you almost awkwardly, as you look up at the beautiful house in front of you. Your bags are still in his hands, and you nudge his arm playfully, reaching for one, but he won’t let you grab it, smiling back at you as he starts to lead you in.

The inside is just as nice, and even though it’s clear that his mom and interior decorator have done a lot of work on it, there’s still a lot of Mo touches too. Each one makes you smile, the ones he points out in his tour and the ones that he doesn’t, until he finally leads you upstairs, dropping your things in one of the spare rooms. “Did I-“

“If the next words out of your mouth are say thank you, I’m walking out of this house.” You warn him.

“-ask what you want to do for dinner tonight?” Morgan finishes lamely and you laugh.

“That sushi place you always hype up?”

Morgan smiles. “Anything you want.” He says, and then, instead of the thank you that you know he wants to say, he pulls you in for a hug and squeezes tightly, before letting go. “Change and we’ll go?”

“Shower, change, and we’ll go.” You correct, dying to get the feel of airplane off you. “45 minutes.”

Morgan looks at you knowingly. “Sure, uh huh.” He says, nodding like he knows it’ll be much closer to an hour, an hour and fifteen, and you laugh, shoving at his shoulder before he makes you want to stretch it out to an hour and a half on purpose.

-----

Morgan’s parents might be the nicest people in the world, but they’re also a little...odd? Like, you’re not trying to be mean, because just like Morgan, they truly are the absolute sweetest, but, like, they just keep smiling at you with this knowing smile, like they know something that you don’t and it’s just...weird.

But they welcome you with open arms, when the two of you show up to dinner on your second night in town, hugging you just as tightly as they hug their own son, maybe even tighter than they hug the son who still lives in the same province as them. 

“We’re so excited to finally meet you!” Morgan’s mom gushes, once you get settled in their kitchen with a glass of wine, which at least explains the weirdness a little. “

“You guys too.” You admit. You’ve heard so much about them, his parents and brother, over the years of friendship with Morgan; it’s nice to finally put faces to names, to stories. “Thanks for having me tonight.” Next to you, Morgan nudges you, a grin on his face. You can practically hear him. Stop saying thank you, like you’ve been saying to him for the past day. 

“Oh stop!” She says, practically in time with his nudge. “Morgan tells us you’re a doctor now!” It’s said with pride, like you may as well be one of her own children who’s done something great.

“Yeah!” You smile, swirling the wine around a little, and then, because you don’t want there to be any confusion. “Not that kind of doctor; you should still call 911 if something happens.”

His dad laughs and his mom beams. “What kind of doctor then?” His dad asks, and you spend a while talking with his parents about epidemiology and your dissertation- his mom, it turns out, works in a similar field, and it isn’t long before the two of you are rolling your eyes about some research that just came out.

“What?” You ask Morgan, laughing, when your conversation breaks out, and she has to go check on dinner, at his dad’s request, before he burns it all entirely.

“I just forgot how excited you get about infectious diseases.”

“Can’t believe you’ve been out here this whole time knowing that your mom and I both exist and haven’t introduced us.” You announce. “The rudeness, the hearsay.”

“I don’t think that’s how that word’s used.” Morgan cackles.

“Oh, sorry, are you a doctor?”

“That doesn’t have anything to do with knowing how that word is used!” He protests, laughing.

You ignore him. “If you even think of keeping her from me when they come to Toronto…”

He wraps his arm around your shoulders and squeezes. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

-----

“Are you ready yet?” Morgan calls, and you take one last look in the mirror on the wall, smoothing the pleats in your dress. “We’re going to be late!”

“But it’s gonna be worth it!” You sing-song as you descend the stairs to meet him in the living room.

“Is it ev-” He cuts off abruptly, eyes wide and swallowing visibly as he cuts off. “Wow, okay then.”

“Worth it.” You wink at him, brushing past him to grab your purse. 

Morgan’s laughing as he picks up his keys, this soft and gentle thing that you can’t help but smile at. “Yeah, I should’ve known it would be.”

“You’ll know better for tomorrow!” You tease, and breeze past him to get in the car.

The ride to his cousin’s rehearsal dinner isn’t far, spent mostly laughing as you keep switching the station from anything Morgan changes it back to. By the time you arrive at the restaurant, you’re both giggling as you enter, flagged down almost immediately by Morgan’s mom.

“Look at you two!” She gushes.

“Mom.” Morgan says dryly. “Come on.”

She smiles at him indulgently. “Make sure you say hi to your cousin.” 

“Yeah, of course.” Morgan nods, grabbing your hand to pull you away. “Just after we hit the bar.” He mutters and you giggle.

His cousin, the bride, and her husband-to-be seem to have the same idea, and it’s just as you’re turning away, wine glasses in hand, that you nearly run into them.

“Oh!” Ashley beams excitedly, once Morgan introduces you. “Hi!”

“Congratulations!” You return the excitement. She’s so bubbly and bright; it’s easy to do, even though you don’t know her. “You guys look so great tonight; you’re going blow us all away tomorrow.”

“She’s going to blow me away tomorrow.” Dylan jokes, but you can tell by the twinkle in his eye that he’s entirely serious.

“Oh stop.” Ashley knocks his arm. “And you too,” She gestures at you. “You look amazing! How’d you do your hair like that?”

“This?” She nods and you walk her through it quickly; it’s a look that’s so much more simple than it looks and she’s gasping by the time you’re done. 

“Ok, mhmm.” She nods. “I’m getting your number from Morgan later so you can go over that with me again because I’m definitely going to forget.”

Morgan flicks a piece of your hair. “It’s a hairstyle, what could you possibly forget?”

You and Ashley exchange a look. “I got you.” You reassure her as you both laugh at him.

“Men, honestly.” She shakes her head, as Morgan and Dylan protest, but then before you and Ashley can talk any more, she and Dylan are being called away, and there’s promises for you all to catch up tomorrow at the wedding.

“You can’t have her phone number unless you promise not to talk about me.” Morgan says.

“Fat chance.” You tell him. “But nice try.”

From there, you start making your way back to his parents, stopping off to chat quickly with relatives he recognizes (and once, ducking purposefully into a small crowd to avoid an aunt he doesn’t want to see). You feel like it shouldn’t be surprising how nice his family is, given how genuine Morgan is, but each person you meet welcomes you so warmly, with kind words and open arms. 

“You must talk about me a lot.” You tease, as you two start making your way to your table.

Morgan shrugs. “More than I’d realized apparently.” You cackle and he laughs; it’s familiar and easy, but then you’re easily distracted by the appetizers coming to the table and fighting Morgan for extra of your favorites-also familiar and easy.

-----

It’s another morning of Morgan waiting impatiently for you, being rewarded with his gaping jaw dropped, and teasing him the entire ride to the wedding, before he easily gets his revenge when you tear up at the ceremony.

“You don’t even know these people!” He nudges you forward toward his cousin in the reception line right after the ceremony. “And you’re going to cry like that?”

“It was a beautiful ceremony!” You defend. You’d been right yesterday; Ashley had easily blown everyone away from the moment she’d entered the room. Their vows were incredible; you didn’t understand how anyone wasn’t crying.

Morgan snickers, nudging you forward again. “God, what do you do at weddings you actually know the people at?” He pauses as you both step closer another, like the idea has just come to him. “Oh man, what are going to do at your own wedding?”

“Bawl my eyes out, obviously.” You say dryly. “Tell my future husband to bring tissues.” You move up, next in line for Ashley and Dylan. “You clearly didn’t get the message.”

“What’d you do?” Ashley pokes him; you guess whoever was in front of you was a guest she didn’t know all that well because they’ve moved along pretty quickly.

“Me? I’d never.” Morgan says innocently, ducking down to kiss her cheek.

“I’m just giving him a hard time.” You agree and she grins, shocking you when she pulls you in for a hug. 

“He probably deserves it.” She says cheerfully.

“Wow, I see family loyalty goes a long way here, huh.” Morgan deadpans.

Ashley gives him a look. “Not for much longer, I guess, though?” She nudges him.

“Oh I see how it is, you’ve been married for all of five minutes and suddenly Dylan’s family is better than ours?” Morgan teases.

Ashley blinks. “That is...not how I meant that at all.” She says, but before she can say anything else to you, the couple behind the two of you starts sighing impatiently, and you all realize how long you’ve been talking for. You quickly congratulate her and then move along to Dylan as well, before stepping out of line and moving towards the reception area.

The bridal party was quick to get the reception started after the ceremony, so when you and Morgan make your way over, there’s already a decent sized group chatting and drinking. You both grab drinks from the bar and make your way to a group of his cousins, chatting for a while and laughing along as they’re sure to include you in all of their jokes.

When it comes time to start making your way to your table for dinner, you excuse yourself to the bathroom quickly, running into Morgan’s grandmother when you’re there, who had the same idea as you it seems.

She lights up when she sees you fixing your hair in the mirror, stepping up to wash her hands. “It looks great.” She assures you and you smile, thanking her. “Are you having a good time?”

You nod, following her out so the two of you can make your way back to the reception. “Such a good time! Everyone’s been amazing and Ashley and Dylan are beautiful; it’s been a great weekend!”

“It’ll be great to be all be here again,” Morgan’s grandmother smiles at you and you return it politely. “Next summer.” She adds, like an afterthought, and you shrug. She’d know better than you what the upcoming engagements look like. You can barely remember the names of the people you’re seated with tonight.

“If Morgan brings me back then.” You throw her a finger gun and she laughs-loudly.

“Oh, you’re a trip!” She nudges you gently, laughing. “Such a doll. Let’s get another glass of wine together before we go back, shall we?”

“I will never say no to that.” You’re pretty sure you still have a couple minutes to spare before you need to sit down. 

His grandmother links arms with you. “My kinda gal.” She beams and her smile is contagious, just like Morgan’s is when he’s really happy, so it’s not hard to grin along with her as she tugs you along for another glass of rosé.

-----

The evening’s winding down- the wedding long over and the after party beginning to do so as well. Almost all of the older relatives have made their way home or to their hotel rooms but there’s a few sloppy cousins and friends still going hard (you’ve got some serious concerns how the one groomsman is even going to make it upstairs). Ashley and Dylan keep stealing glances at each other, like they’re wondering if it’s late enough for them to sneak away yet, but each time they look like they’re going to, someone calls for another toast.

Morgan nudges you. “Hey.” He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a couple cigars. “Outside with me?”

You think about it for a second. Usually, you love a good cigar-and you’re sure that Morgan’s managed to acquire a good one- but tonight? “Not really in the mood, but I’ll come out.”

He grins, a little crooked, and offers his hand to help you up from the couch the two of you have been sitting on. Outside, the weather is beautiful, one of those crystal clear nights with a light breeze where you feel like you could be outside for hours. He lights the cigar while you continue to sip at your wine, the two of you standing in comfortable silence, until the door opens again.

“Cigars without me?” His brother grumbles. “I see how it is now.”

“Yup, just left you behind on purpose.” Morgan says shamelessly, but he’s already pulling the spare out of his pocket and handing it over.

“Unsurprising.”

“Yeah?” Morgan asks, amusedly. “Why’s that?” 

His brother gives him a look, and then, when Morgan doesn’t react, looks over at you, but you just shrug. “Just promise you won’t forget about me once you pop the question.”

You choke on your drink; Morgan looks just as shocked, the cigar halfway to his mouth. “What?” He says finally.

For the first time, his brother looks unsure. “I think...we all just thought...once you brought her home, that was the only thing holding you back?”

“Oh my god.” Morgan says breathlessly.

“I’m not-” You add helplessly. “We’re not-”

“Oh.” His brother winces. “Wait, so you’re not…” He trails off and the silence between the three of you becomes so thick it’s almost palpable. You don’t know what to do, what to say. What he even means. “You’re not together?” He says finally, sounding like he’d rather be anywhere else, doing anything else.

You can relate. You shake your head slowly, notice Morgan’s doing the same out of the corner of your eye.

“Um.” His brother continues. “And-and you haven’t been-together?” Another head shake. “Wow. A lot of people are going to be very disappointed.”

“A lot of people?” Morgan repeats. “Who...who all thinks this?” But you don’t need an answer to know and apparently, he doesn’t either. The silence thickens somehow; you didn’t think it was possible. 

“Um.” His brother’s already backing away, even as he speaks. “I’m gonna go now. Before I say anything else to make this worse.”

He’s gone before you can tell him you’re not sure that’s possible, leaving you and Morgan in the loudest silence you’ve ever experienced. 

It’s abundantly clear Morgan feels it too, from the way he won’t even meet your eyes, will barely even look at you, actually. And there’s so much to say here, but well, “You never brought Laura to meet your family? Never let them meet her at home?” Apparently, they really weren’t as serious as you’d thought.

Morgan laughs hollowly, finally meeting your eyes. “That probably should have been a clue, huh?”

“A little bit of a red flag.” You agree. It’d been how many years? Morgan’s tight with his family, that much you knew before you’d come out here and only became clearer as you met them. “Why...why didn’t you ever introduce them?”

Morgan sighs. “I think-I always knew something wasn’t right. And I just didn’t want to admit it?” He sighs again. “I shouldn’t have brought you into this.”

“You didn’t know.” You tell him gently. “And I wanted to come.” You remind him. “I was happy to!” You pause for a second. “I was happy to come across the country to a wedding with you and your family with barely a second thought. So maybe we both need to re-examine what happened here this weekend.”

“Maybe we don’t.” Morgan says simply.

“What?” You frown, confused.

“You were happy to fly across the country for a wedding with me and my family.” Morgan repeats, with a small smile on his face. “And then you come here and meet my entire family, and they think I’m ready to propose to you, because you're the girl they hear me talk about all the time.” Your jaw drops-is he saying...what you think he’s saying-and his smile grows into a grin. “I think this thing between us has been more than either of us have been able to admit because we’ve had other things going on- school or hockey or-”

“Other girlfriends?” You supply teasingly, when he trails off, like he’s afraid to mention her name.

He nods. “There’ve been other boyfriends, too.” He nudges you, just as teasing.

“There have.” You admit, because it’s not a lie, but none of them have ever worked out, for a variety of reasons, but you can’t help but think, that now that he’s mentioning it, Morgan might have been a part of those other reasons.

He’s back to smiling again when he continues, leaning against you slightly. “I think we owe it to ourselves to see what we could be.”

You lean back against him. “You do, do you?”

“I do.” He nods.

“Little early for that, don’t you think?” It takes a second for your joke to land, but once it does, he cracks up and it brings a smile to your face. 

“We are at a wedding.” He grins, nudging you playfully. “Who knows, maybe someday it’ll be ours?”

-----

a bit in the future

It’s one of those beautiful sunny days where the sun is shining with a light breeze where you feel like you could be outside for hours. 

Unfortunately, you’ve got a huge project due at the end of the week, so while Morgan’s been enjoying the lake all day, you’ve been sitting at a table on the dock, staring at your laptop, tapping away at your keyboard, and ignoring his increasingly annoying calls for attention.

It’s harder to ignore when he comes up next to you, wrapping his wet arms around your shoulders. “Morgan.” You try to shake him off. “Come on, gimme like ten minutes and then I’ll come in.”

“Promise?” He asks.

“Yes.” You say because if you can get this one last thing done you’ll be ahead of your goal for the day.

It works; Morgan sits down next to you quietly, scrolling through his phone for a bit, and then, jumps up and runs inside the cabin, and you jump on the opportunity of quiet to get ahead even further, losing yourself in your next bit of project.

“Hey,” Morgan says casually, and it scares you a bit, his return far quieter than he’s been all day. “What are you doing the weekend of July 8th?”

“I don’t know, that’s like a year away!.” You snap, turning to tell him to stop annoying you, only for your jaw to drop when you see him down on one knee.

“Want to get married then?” He says, a twinkle in his eye and a grin on his face, like he’s been waiting for this reaction, like it was everything and more.

“Oh my god! Are you serious?” He slips his hand into his pocket and pulls out a ring; you gasp. “Morgan!”

“Will you marry me?”

“Yes, oh my god, yes!” Your computer long forgotten in the face of an engagement ring, you throw yourself at Morgan, who catches you easily, like he was prepared for this. He probably was. He knows you better than anyone; he’s your best friend and so much more. He barely manages to slip the ring on your finger before you’re kissing him. “I love you!”

“I love you, too.” He grins. “Are you sure you’re ready to take this jump with me?”

“Of course!” You beam, but it hits you just a minute too late. He’s already jumping in the water. “You’re the worst.” You sputter out at him, purposefully spitting lake water at his face. 

He doesn’t even look like he minds. “For better or worse.” He grins.

“That’s not what that’s referring to!” You splash him and he splashes back but before it can devolve into a full on splash attack, he’s pulling you into his arms.

“I mean it though.” He says, kissing you again. “And I’ll tell you again, next summer, at our wedding.”

Our wedding. The words sound almost unreal, too good to be true. “I’ll be the one in white.” You promise. “Or, well, maybe ivory.” You say and it’s hard to kiss Morgan then when he’s laughing so hard.

[wroteonedad]

Meme Culture in Art

I consider myself to be a shitposter. Especially on my Instagram stories. Everyone who knows me will know this. I like to post everything.

On my days off, I like to go on my silly little walks which is the exact same loop every time. I walk along the pier, film a little video of the sea, put a fun little song I like over the top and post it. Two hours later, I'm scrolling through TikTok. I see a video of a 3D rotisserie chicken; dancing, running, jumping. Headless. Over the endless clips plays earrape. Nokia phone ringtones, Quandale Dingle, 'have some more chicken, have some more pie'. I like it and then repost it to my Instagram story. One of my old managers told me that watching my story is a giant fever dream to him. He's right.

Memes have been used in various art forms for years, even before a meme became a meme. I'm talking about Dadaism, political satire, conceptual art, even some forms of performance art to name a few. The prime purpose of these works are to make fun of a situation, to depict something in a humorous way, and sometimes, they're made to make no sense at all.

Dadaism began around 1916. The reason they started the art movement was because a group of artists wanted to create pieces of works that depicted the horrors of the First World War. The works included performance, montage poetry; thus all designed to either form a satirical nature or be completely non sensical. At the end of the day, this movement was created to be political, to go against what others thought, and to evoke them. It was a short lived movement, but highly noted in terms of art history and the developments that followed shortly after.

Marcel Duchamp had to be one of my favourite artists from this movement. And why? Because his work was so simple, yet so effective. The way he thought to sign a urinal as R.Mutt and submit it into an exhibition is ballsy. As far as meme culture in art goes, I always immediately discuss Duchamp because he is a joke artist that works effectively. There is nothing offensive, cynical or mundane about the joke art he created.

Also, just the fact that to this day, you can go into an art gallery and just look at a literal signed urinal is hilarious to me. I think this piece alone has exactly the same energy as America by Maurizio Cattelan. Now I could go on about this man and his works forever. I could write essays about him. I tried to base my entire dissertation on one of his many controversial works. Ironically, the piece of his work I studied was not actually America. In fact, I never even mentioned the piece at all.

America is exactly what you would think it is. An 18-karet solid gold toilet created in 2016 that you could indeed use. It wasn't a piece of work that was displayed in the middle of a gallery in a glass case, unlike Fountain, it was in fact in a cubicle in the toilet. This was quite literally a piece of artwork that you could interact with.

This £4.8 million toilet was all fun of games to use, until the night it was stolen. I'm not sure what it is with Cattelan and his works being stolen or destroyed, sometimes both at the same time, but frequent misery follows with his works. The good news that came with this; the artist actually made three golden toilets. Perhaps he knew that this was going to happen, after all, you can't trust the Brits.

In other forms of Meme culture in the art world, we also have literal memes, blown onto small canvases and displayed in art galleries. This is Nothing Conceptual, works by Jesus Bubu Negron; a collection of memes that were created just for his friends. However, he ended up getting the opportunity to display them all in a gallery.

They're what I consider to be a very classic meme. Classic as in when they began to rise in popularity online in the early 10's. The artist says that submitting a collection of works to a gallery is like posting a video on YouTube and it going viral. These videos are typically going to be something out of the ordinary and something that is funny. It takes something absurd to get the attention of so many people across the world and I think this is something this body of work does so well. I would love for it to be a more common thing where you walk into a gallery and it is a carefully selected body of memes, all brought together in a gallery space to tell its own story.

Now, memes are easier to access than ever before. They're in your local gallery, they're on your Facebook as you scroll through your feed, they're even posted by tabloids on a YouTube live stream (goodbye Liz Truss. 2022-2022).

They really can be used for everything. Even for things as extreme as hate speech. Remember Pepe? The much loved disappointed frog that had a reaction image for literally any situation ever.

He started off as this little guy. Harmless. He was a character designed by Matt Furie in his comic series from 2005. Pepe began to circulate when Furie illustrated an image of Pepe pulling his pants down to have a wee and the image went around 4Chan with a caption that says 'feels good man'. Anyway, fast forward a few years, people begin creating images of Pepe looking distraught, captioning it with 'feels bad man'. This of course, became very popular within the 4Chan community. Katy Perry, Nicki Minaj and even Donald Trump (???) have all posted memes on their social medias, using images of Pepe. Pepe began to be used as a hate speech meme for the alt-right after Trump chose to Tweet himself as a Pepe. He gassed it up and within a week, tabloids were classing Pepe as a 'popular white nationalist symbol', I mean isn't that insane? Dudes literally a little frog. The whole hate speech concept went so far that his original creator, Furie decided to kill off Pepe to get people to stop displaying and creating him in such a way. But what are you supposed to do when your beloved cartoon is suddenly being redrawn as Adolf Hitler and the KKK? I guess you've gotta draw Pepe in a coffin and tell everyone that he died so he can't be used as a symbol for anything anymore.

The point is, memes can and will be used for anything. For good and for bad. They started off way before the human race even became aware of what a meme was and they've developed so far ever since. Harmless fun memes are the way to go, but I'm also sure it won't be the last time that we become exposed to a character or an image that spins so far out of control that it becomes an image of something that is out of your wildest dreams.

I think I'll choose to carry on with my silly little shitposting on Instagram. At the end of the day, even if I wanted to, I can't post anything offensive online because all of my work managers follow me.

To finish off, here are a few of my fave memes.