#I’m supposed to be studying not questioning my reading habits

[exquisitesimp]

Comforting Akutagawa during a mental breakdown

A/N: Hello to everyone reading this! I’m back at it again with Bungo Stray Dogs, more particularly the Port Mafia. In this story, the reader (F) is giving comfort and affection to her emotionally damaged boyfriend Akutagawa, after an unfortunate encounter with his old mentor figure (aku was my first love in bsd). Thank you so much for reading and interacting with my posts, it means so much to me! Stay healthy, eat well and drink plenty of water! - Sam

Tags: Bungo Stray Dogs, Akutagawa Ryunosuke, angst, reverse comfort, SFW

Warnings: mental breakdown, emotional and physical abuse, NSSI

Word Count: approx. 4.8k

It was one of these nights again; these difficult, heart-wrenching nights that constantly made you question the meaning of such a life, a life filled with pain and suffering. You’ve become a little too familiar with this feeling since you’ve experienced, well… a little too many nights like these. 

“Remember what you’re doing all this for!” you exclaimed. 

Except there was nobody there to listen, save for the librarian that was sick of having you be the last one to leave the library in the dark hours of the early morning for the fifth time this week. Talking to the void, maybe all that studying did drive you insane after all. 

“You scared the life out of me, for the love of god!”, the lady gasped, jumping awake from the information desk. Poor her, she probably hated these nights even more than you did.

“I’m terribly sorry”, you said, chuckling in awful embarrassment.

She gave you a cold stare, which truthfully saddened you deep down, because you were under the false impression that you had bonded with the woman by now.

“Don’t look at me like that ma’am”, you said, “You know med school isn’t a piece of cake…”

“I know dear”, she responded with a certain sweetness in her voice and a tired sigh, “but isn’t it time to go home soon?”

You looked at the clock above the information desk. It read 2:45. A look of desperation channeled itself on your face as you were thinking about just how much more work you had ahead of you before you could allow yourself to go home and finally get some shuteye. 

“Just one more unit, I promise!” you lied, knowing damn well that it was much, much more than that.

“Pfftt….Like we haven’t heard that before…” the librarian mumbled as she began moving around all sorts of books and paper sheets around the information desk.

Of all the times during the day she could get that taken care of, she had to do it right now? The noise she made was getting on your nerves and messed with your focus. However, you knew she was going to kick you out for sure if you dared complain about it. So you just decided to let it go, for your own good perhaps…

Resting your head which had grown quite heavy and dizzy on top of the open books, you sighed in exhaustion, waiting for the woman to stop messing with the papers and your concentration along with them. Wondering how the hell you were supposed to pass all these exams the following week, you were just sitting there, beating yourself up for always leaving things for the last possible moment. But not even a minute later, your phone, which was laying on the table, suddenly buzzed and stopped your overthinking. 

It was a voice message from your boyfriend, a little smile subtly forming on your face upon seeing the notification. You’ve been together for almost a year, but the habit of smiling at his texts hasn't faded away whatsoever.

“Ma’am, can I pleeaase use my phone?”, you joked, since there was obviously nobody there to be disturbed by mobile phone usage… except for the poor lady of course. “It’s my sweetheart!”

A few moments of deadly silence followed. From the look on her face, you’d think she was finally done with your smart-ass idiocy. 

“Eh, to hell with it…” she responded, having accepted — to your grand surprise — that she’d have you here for quite a while once again.

“God bless your patience! I shall treat you to a huge meal once these detestable exams are over!”, you proclaimed in comedic exaggeration, yet genuinely wanting to express your gratitude to her in some sort of way. With your late-night hypertension and your endearingly annoying sense of humor, you could imagine that having you study here all these days must have been quite a handful. 

“Who said I wanted to have a meal with you?”, she shrugged and rolled her eyes. 

Purposefully ignoring her rhetorical question with a smile on your face, you opened the message and placed your phone next to your head with the speaker facing your ear, the woman sighing at your shenanigan in the background. 

“Hey, Y/N…” 

You didn’t expect to hear Gin’s voice. 

“Listen… I found my brother’s phone in a dark alley on the ground, and it’s all cracked up now, and I’m not quite sure what happened... He was still supposed to be here, but I assume there was some big trouble and he had to flee. Problem is— TACHIHARA CAN YOU JUST SHUT THE F— sorry about that… problem is I contacted our headquarters and he’s not there” 

Your eyes opened wide as the message kept on playing. Two opposing forces fighting in your brain; one worrying that something terrible has happened to him, the other trying to remain cool-headed since you didn’t know any crucial details about the situation.

“My guess would be that he’s at your place. I know you have a lot of work to do in the library, but please check if everything’s okay with him. Gotta go, the Armed Detective Agency is just around the corner”

You heard the words “Armed Detective Agency” and you instantly knew what this was about. 

“Oh fuck” you said out loud and stood up from your desk as if struck by some invisible thunder.

“What is it this time?”, the librarian desperately asked.

“It’s your lucky day”, you replied, packing up your bag in quick, messy movements, “I’ve got to go right now”

“Good grace”, she mumbled as she started switching off the lights to finally close the place down for the night.

“Thanks for everything!”, you shouted hurriedly, storming out of the university library and rushing to the parking lot.

You jumped in your car and immediately started the engine. You already knew by now that no encounter with the Agency could possibly be any good for Akutagawa. And this time, you had a strong feeling that something was very, very wrong.

In less than half the time it would usually take, you sloppily drove back to your apartment, very lucky that you hadn’t crushed the car onto anything on the way there. Running with light steps and pushing through your own fatigue, you finally reached the door and knocked on it.

“Sweetie?”, you called out softly. 

There was complete silence on the other side, a type of silence that grew an unshakeable fear within you. After taking a deep breath, you reached for the keys in the pocket of your jacket and slowly opened the door.

You took a good look at the living room before entering, and everything was exactly the way you left it, including the little lamp you always kept switched on even when nobody was home. From where you were standing, nothing seemed wrong with the kitchen either. At first glance it all looked perfectly normal, but there was something very intuitively suspicious about this quietness that consumed the entire place. 

Due to your intensive studying at the library the past few days, you ended up coming home at times like these almost every day, and you found the emptiness to be serene, and even comforting in its own way. But now it was frantically maddening, as if you’d be crazy to assume someone else was here, but equally as insane to think that you were totally alone.

You gulped as you took a few steps in and closed the door behind you, cold shivers running down your body. Only while taking off your own shoes did you look down to check if his were there, and much to your relief, they were just beside the door. You immediately felt a weight fall off your shoulders, knowing now that nobody had broken in or that you weren’t… imagining things.

You quietly made your way right in front of the shut door of your bedroom, and since you already passed by the empty bathroom, you knew that was the only place where he could possibly be. Just by standing there you felt a dark chilly aura strike you down to the bone. 

Knowing about his occupation and even his abusive past, you were already aware that Akutagawa was very much capable of becoming violent. But this wasn’t the first time he went through a crisis like this with you, so you had faith that if you stood there for him once again, it would all work out, just like the previous times.

You plucked up all the courage you had inside you and knocked on the door. 

“Sweetie?”, you repeated. “Are you alright?”  

Once again, no answer. At this point you started getting worried. That was the only place he could be, right? Then why was he not responding?

Making the tiniest amount of sound possible, you pushed the door open ever so slightly to peek through the crack, and that’s when you saw something you’ve never witnessed before.

Although the light switch was on, the room was pitch black with only a few strands of light somehow making their way through. Sinister branches of darkness were spread all over, some intertwined with one another in an infernal veil, and others ruthlessly piercing the entirety of the space like enormous, sharp blades. 

You were completely astounded. You had no idea that Rashoumon could take on such a petrifying form.

Before you could even begin to grasp the density and the complexity of what your eyes just viewed, the door was somehow explosively shut inches away from your face, causing you to gasp at the thunderous noise.

“HOW MANY TIMES HAVE I TOLD YOU ABOUT THE DOOR?”, Akutagawa yelled, his strung out voice echoing within his ability’s construction. 

“I’m sorry sweetie”, you responded peacefully, “I just wanted to check if you’re okay…”

“What does this look like to you?” he asked sarcastically, while Rashoumon locked the door from the inside, eliminating any possibility that he’d just let you in that easily.

“What I meant is, are you physically okay? Did you get hurt?”, you asked, trying to maintain your calm composure.

“I’m intact”, he answered as if even such a small question was so immensely bothersome to him at that moment, “now LEAVE. ME. ALONE!”

“How am I supposed to leave you alone in a state like this?”

He didn’t respond, but it’s not like you expected him to. Hurt and afraid, he always hid inside his hard shell at times like this, and it took a lot of strength and effort to get him to open up to you. You took a big breath, because the difficult part was just starting. 

“Your sister found your phone somewhere in the city and contacted me…”, you began.

“I don’t wanna talk about this…” he growled as rage kept building up within him.

“I know it’s difficult to talk right no—“

“THEN CUT IT OUT”, he screamed with a trembling voice and paused for a second, “before I break the door…”

“You don’t have to talk about it right now, but please just listen”.

You paused for a while to see what his reaction would be. Although he was once again mute, you were quite happy that you didn’t get smashed by the door; it meant he was waiting for you to speak.

“I know you’re not feeling well right now, and I just want to let you know that it’s totally okay to feel this way, even though I don’t know what exactly happened… I just wanted to tell you…”.

Another silence-filled pause ensured you that he was still listening.

“You did the right thing to come here, sweetie… The fact that you’re here right now means that even if you want me to leave you alone this instant, some part of you wants to find comfort here… And that’s exactly what I want to do for you right now. I just want to make it better, I promise. Please, Aku…Let me help you…” 

No response.

“I’ll be waiting right behind the door for as long as you need. Please don’t break me along with it, or better yet, let me in whenever you feel like…”

It wasn’t much later that you heard the door finally unlock behind you, so you stood up, carefully opened it, and saw that your previously unimaginably ominous room was now just the way you remembered it.

Akutagawa was sitting on the floor in the corner across the room, curled up so he could take up as little space as possible. He had wrapped his arms around his knees and held them closely against his chest. His cloak was thrown over his shoulders, covering most of his upper body and his head was buried on his forearms.

You quietly approached him and sat next to him to keep him at ease. All these months in a relationship with him taught you that at times like these, he felt threatened by people sitting right opposite him, and didn't respond to them so well. He also deeply despised being looked at when he’s in such a vulnerable state, so you respected his wishes and looked at the floor, avoiding his eyes at all costs.

“Take your time, sweetie. I’m here to listen”, you said after a minute or two. 

He took a big breath before lifting his head up, while you made sure to make him feel as comfortable as you could, based on his own individual terms.

“The Command Unit was sent to the center of Yokohama to investigate some strange movements in the black market… and there, I ran into that stupid weretiger...”

“Mhm hm”, you nodded as you kept listening carefully.

“We started a fight and I had cornered him in this alley… that was all until he showed up…”

“Dazai?”, you asked, just to make sure your assumptions were correct.

“Yes…” , he answered as his voice got weaker. “He nullified my ability and told the weretiger to leave, so it was just the two of us…”

You noticed it was getting harder and harder for him to speak as the conversation shifted towards Dazai. It was no surprise since he’d talked to you about him before but it was, nonetheless, upsetting to hear.

“No…”, you said, “and what did he do?”

“Well, he…”, Akutagawa said and then paused as if to collect himself, “he kicked me right below the chest and I was on the ground coughing…”

He took a breath, before proceeding to give you the rest of the story.

“And he said some things… something about the weretiger being better than me… but I’ve heard that before…”

“Aw sweetie—“

“He knows…”, he said, burying his head on his knees once again. “He found out about my disease somehow…”

When you heard him quietly weep, you moved a little closer to him, just enough so that he didn’t feel alone in this difficult, doleful moment. Before you could even begin to ask how Dazai managed to find that out, Akutagawa jumped into your arms and buried his head on your shoulder, letting his black cloak fall off his frail body.

As he did that, you didn’t fail to notice that his white shirt had bloody stains on each sleeve, a little bit above the length of the elbow. Both sides had five holes each, one for each of his own fingers that had been digging into his skin, scratching and ripping it apart.

You were so upset, but you realized that it would be no good to address it right now. So instead, you wrapped him up in the warm embrace that he desperately needed at the time.

“That lung disease you have is going to kill you soon… Maybe then, I’ll consider coming back to the Port Mafia… Such a shame that… even when you leave your last pathetic breath… there won’t have been a single moment… when you were better than my new apprentice…” 

“That’s what he said to me…”, he uttered, sobbing in between these nasty, horrible phrases. 

Your eyes started watering as you squeezed him tighter against you. It was beyond you how anybody could be so viciously cruel to someone so loyal and devoted, even if fate brought it so that they parted ways.

“That’s so hurtful…”, you whispered as tears were running down your cheeks. “It’s okay… Let it all out, I’m right here…”

“Why? Just why?!”, he cried in anguish, “How much more must I do? When will all this be over? When will I ever be enough?!”

You didn’t know how to respond to such questions at times like these, so you just let him lash out until he hopefully calmed down eventually. 

“What am I saying? That’s never gonna happen…”, he lamented as his body started shivering, “I’m so sorry, Y/N… I’m a worthless and pathetic fool…”

“That’s not true…please stop saying things like that…”, you pleaded.

“I’m just gonna die so pointlessly… And it won’t even matter to him…”

“Well it’s gonna matter to me!”, you raised the tone of your voice, verklempt and teary-eyed.

His chest kept pumping against yours as he was struggling for breath. 

“I’m so sorry my love…”, you apologized, fearing that all you just did was worsen his situation by letting your own emotions take over. He tried to say something, but in this state, coherent words couldn’t come out of his mouth.

You had to stay strong and help him during this difficult time. Right now, the situation wasn't about you.

“Listen to me, let’s take some deep breaths okay? Breathe in till four, hold till four, and breathe out till six. Can you do that for me?”

You felt him nodding yes, lifting his head up and letting his chin rest on your shoulder. 

“Perfect, I’ll count: 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3, 4, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6…”

Akutagawa tried to follow your count as much as he could. You had to do this exercise about fifteen times before his breathing took its normal pace back. Your hand was always gently caressing the back of his head, and with every round you completed, you made sure that he knew he was doing a good job. 

“I’m so proud of you”, you murmured and kissed his temple, “are you feeling any better now?”.

He nodded yes and sniffed his nose.

“Can I look at you?”, you asked.

He sighed, then nodded yes once again. Once he let go, you gently cupped his face and lifted his head up so you could look at him. His poor, restless eyes were ever so red and puffy from all the tears he’d been shedding.

“My sweet Aku…”, you whispered, “if only there was something I could do to take your suffering away… I can only imagine how terrible it feels to be treated so horribly by someone you look up to so much, to always feel like you’re the second option…”

You paused to take a big breath and collect yourself. 

“And I know it’s not the same to hear it from me… but you’re always going to be my first choice… always…” 

A sad, bitter smile morphed into your boyfriend’s face upon hearing these words, as if they were half-empty, not coming from a certain someone he’d want to hear them from instead.

“I’ll always be here for you… You’re my everything, my love… I love you more than anyone and anything in this world… And seeing you suffer like this… it crushes me…”

Akutagawa sat there in silence, guiltful and grey, shifting his gaze to the cold, hard floor. 

“Especially this…” you said with a cracking voice, and looked at the red stains on his sleeves, “this just… it breaks my heart…”

His withering eyes were filling up with tears again. 

“Promise me you won’t do it again…please…”, you begged.

“I promise…I’m so sorry…”

“Don’t be sorry sweetie, none of this makes you weak in my eyes…. You’re so strong… so much more than you think…”

You looked at him sweetly before pulling him closer to give him a soft kiss on the mouth, his lips passive, almost motionless against yours.

“Now go have a warm shower, you need to relax”, you said, getting up from the floor and offering him a helping hand to stand up as well. “Make sure that a lot of water runs over your wounds. I’ll take care of them once you’re done, okay?”

“Okay”, he answered, giving you his hand, letting you pull him up and still hold him all the way to the bathroom. 

“Thank you so much, Y/N… really…” 

“Don’t mention it”, you responded lovingly.

As he shut the door behind him, you immediately got this morbid feeling, this insurmountable urge to break down and cry. 

You loved him with all your heart, but in comparison to even the tiniest praise from Dazai, your love for Akutagawa didn’t matter nearly as much to him. And that thought pained you so much, it cut deeper than a knife… In a way, you could even say you understood him, knowing that your one and only was gonna leave you soon, and that you’ll always come second, till the last moment… till his last moment, his very last breath…

It was all so devastating… But as you pushed the tears back, you remembered the promise that you made to yourself when you first got into a relationship with him; no matter how hard things got, you were gonna love this person as much as you could, for as long as you could… Until the very end, you had to be his pillar of strength and continue cherishing him no matter how much it hurt you in the process. 

And you loved him so much, you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“Hey Gin”, you spoke to your phone as you recorded a voice message for her, “I found him, he was at my place. He’s okay, he has a few surface wounds on his arms, most probably nothing to worry about. You can let your boss and the others know that he’s safe and that he’ll stay here for the next couple of hours… And, by the way, thank you for contacting me as soon as you found his phone….Things might’ve been worse, had it not been for you… Call me if you need anything”

As you hit “send”, Akutagawa walked out of the bathroom, wearing an oversized white t-shirt and plaid black and white pajama bottoms, with the towel he used to dry his hair thrown around his neck.

“Feeling more comfortable now?” you asked. 

“Yeah”, he responded.

“Good. Now come here, let me see your arms…”

He made his way next to you, letting you investigate his wounds.

“Hmm…”, you said, lost in thought, “they’re not as deep, so you’re not gonna need any stitches… but they do look a bit inflamed… we definitely need to disinfect these”

You took him by the hand back in the bathroom again, where you kept your medical kit. You grabbed the disinfectant bottle and lathered some liquid over a big piece of sterile cotton. 

“I gotta warn you sweetie, this might burn a little…”

“Yeah, like I haven’t had worse– OWW!!”, he exclaimed as you pressed it against his wounds.

“I’m sorry, perhaps I wouldn’t have to do this if you hadn’t used your own hands. You were out fighting, who knows how many germs they had…”

“It burns…”, he hissed, clenching his jaw.

“Warned you…”, you responded. “You’ve never used disinfectant before?”

“Do you really think people in the mafia care to use this sh– AUGHH!”, he snarled once again as you repeated the same treatment to his other arm. 

“We’re almost done now…” you reassured him as he gave you the most displeased, irritated stare.

“Hmm let’s see…” you mumbled to yourself while searching the contents of your kit, “I don’t have big enough band-aids for this… guess we’ll have to cover them with something else…”

You opened up two bandages, and with a little hesitation, Akutagawa let you wrap them around his arms tightly.

“All patched up!” you said, giving his boney shoulders a light squeeze, “Is there anything I can make for you? Anything to eat? Some tea maybe?”

“No, I think I’m gonna throw up if I do…”

“Yeah, we wouldn’t want that… Okay then, I think we should go to bed and get some rest, no?”

“Yeah…”

After you changed into your pajamas and brushed your teeth, you made your way into the fluffy futon and scooched over for Akutagawa to join you shortly after. While he is generally the quiet type, this time you could tell that he was way too tired even for the short-lived, yet endearing small talk before bed. 

“My eyes hurt…” Akutagawa murmured as he slid next to you.

“I know, sweetie…Come here…”, you said, lifting up the cover and inviting him close to you.

Your boyfriend found his way into your arms again, his tired head buried in your chest and his thinned body clinging onto yours, the entirety of his being searching for warmth within your embrace. The comforting motions of your hands caressing his back and the sound of your heartbeat was everything he could ask for at the time.

“Feels like you’ve lost more weight…”, you pointed out as you grazed your fingers over the prominent parts of his skeleton, “Have you been eating well lately?”

“Mm-mm”, he shook his head no after a short pause, as if to adjust his thinking to your own standards of self-preservation. To him, if he made it out alive at the end, what was there to care for?

“Well that’s no good…I’m making you fluffy pancakes and your favorite tea in the morning”, you said knowing that, being starved of affection almost his entire life, he found these simple acts of kindness to be a huge deal. His contentment was clear as day, flowing through you as he pulled himself closer, practically sealing shut whatever space there was between the two of you.

“Thank you…”, he purred against your chest, the mere sweetness of his adorable reaction leading you to plant gentle kisses on the top of his head.

“Anything for you sweetie… I just want you to take care of yourself. Undereating can’t do any good to your condition… And I want to keep you around as much as possible, make as many happy memories together as we can…Like that time when you took me to dinner with the mafia for the first time and Higuchi kept warning me not to hurt your feelings or ‘I’ll be dead’...”

“Tsk, that piss-off…” he mumbled in a mix of displeasure and nostalgia, getting annoyed just by remembering the event, but being strangely happy that he got to experience it with you. 

“It made me very happy that you apologized to her…”

“After you told me I was acting just like him, I had no choice…”

“And I’m so proud of you for that, sweetie…” you whispered, running your fingers through his hair

“I still remember when we had Gin and Chuuya over for my birthday and we played that drinking game he had suggested. I’m pretty sure at some point he stopped caring about the rules and started losing on purpose…Ah, what an iconic day…Oh, and that day when I first told you that I loved you…Hahah, you were so awkward whenever I told you that on the phone. It took you a couple of weeks before you were brave enough to say it back to me... But it’s okay, I’m not blaming you, it’s most wise to wait for the time when you are a hundred percent sure that you feel the same way for me… Hey, what about the day of our first date–”

You’d been talking for quite a while now, vocally walking down memory lane, too absent-minded to notice that Akutagawa was fast asleep by then. Your melancholic monologue got softly interrupted by his faint, quiet snores. 

“Aww of course. I almost forgot how easily you fall asleep whenever I start rambling like this…”

You slid your hands under his shirt and felt the soft skin on his back. His hold on you was more relaxed, but far from apathetic, as if what remained of his slowly melting tension was love, and only love. 

You smiled, feeling infinitely blessed that your boyfriend was there with you, that you were listening to his slow breathing as he was drifting somewhere far away. Your eyelids had been feeling heavy for a while, but before you joined him, you wanted to get some things off your chest; somethings you truly wanted Akutagawa to know, even though you knew that he wouldn’t hear much of it in his sleep.

“Aku, my sweetheart… You are worth so much more than you think. You are enough— no, you’re even more than that… And I wish I had the means to show you just how much you mean to me… Oh, if only I could make you feel even half of my love…”

A/N: Akutagawa cried again in the middle of the night, but didn’t want to bother Y/N with his feelings any further. He removed the bandages because anything that reminded him of Dazai, he couldn’t have on his body. After Y/N found out, she apologised for her ignorance and made him the most delicious fluffy pancakes.

#angst #angst with a happy ending #bsd angst #akutagawa angst #anime #anime community #anime writing blog #akutagawa #akutagawa ryunosuke #dazai #dazai osamu #akutagawa x reader #reverse comfort #bungo stray dogs #bsd #sfw #bsd x reader #bsd x reader angst #bungou stray dogs x reader #bsd x you #bsd x reader fluff

[cecilysass]

Shine On (4/16)

Read on AO3 | Tagging @today-in-fic

Chapter 4: The Art of Profiling

Farrs Corner, Virginia February 20, 2015

The pizza that Fox Mulder ordered isn’t from a pizza place Jackson has ever heard of, like Domino’s or Pizza Hut, but it’s really good anyway. Or at least it tastes good to someone who hasn’t eaten all day. Jackson eats the first piece really quickly, then he grabs for a second without thinking, forgetting his manners. When he realizes what he’s done, he hesitates.

“Go for it,” the older man says, his eyes darting sharply back and forth between the pizza and Jackson’s face. “Eat as much as you want.”

Fox Mulder has been acting much more intense ever since Jackson told him about the red-headed lady.

Jackson’s tired, and he has only barely skimmed the surface of the man’s difficult mind, but he can tell that the guy’s stunned by the news. Fox Mulder’s mind is channeling down a dozen different paths right now: fast, mazelike thoughts, like bobsleds going down tracks. A current of sharp worry running through like a winter chill.

It’s honestly exhausting to try to figure out. Jackson closes off the shine for now, takes another big bite of pizza. This sausage is a little spicy, which is exactly how he likes it.

“I have a lot of questions for you,” Fox Mulder says, his voice low. “I don’t want to overwhelm you. But I … gotta ask some of them.”

Jackson nods reluctantly, his mouth full. He doesn’t feel like answering questions at all. Still, he supposes the more he gets out of the way, the better.

“You said you have visions,” the man says, setting his own piece of pizza down. “Do you have other … abilities?”

Jackson studies him cautiously as he finishes chewing his bite of pizza. He’s not in the habit of discussing what he can do. It’s only really ever been trouble when he has, so he’s almost instinctively secretive about it. But things are different now. And Fox Mulder, well, he seems to know all about this kind of thing.

“Yeah,” Jackson says carefully. “I do.”

The man runs his hand over his mouth. Jackson notices he’s only eaten half of his slice of pizza. Either he’s not hungry, or he’s too distracted.

“You can read thoughts,” Fox Mulder guesses, leaning back, speaking with certainty. He folds his hands in front of him. “You can focus on other people’s thoughts. Not just one person, but several at once.”

Jackson sets his slice of pizza down in shock. “How did you know that?”

“You can move objects, too.”

Jackson blinks at him. “I have been able to do that. Some. I could do it easier when I was little.”

“What else?”

“I can, like, change people’s perceptions. What they see. Not for forever, just for a little while. So, if I, like, need a distraction in class or something, I can make the teacher think someone opened the door and mooned us. Stupid stuff like that.”

Fox Mulder looks undeniably fascinated. “Wow,” he says. “Interesting.” He taps his fingers on the table. Jackson doesn’t have to use his shine to see that the man is thinking this over. “So does that mean you could effectively shapeshift? If you wanted to?”

“Yeah,” admits Jackson. “At least I can make other people think I look like someone else.”

“Huh,” the man says, squinting thoughtfully. He tilts his head, looking at Jackson again. “Are you reading my mind right now?”

“No,” Jackson says honestly.

“Why not?”

“I’m tired,” Jackson says. “It’s work, sometimes. And no offense, but you’re kind of complicated and hard.”

Fox Mulder chuckles. “I don’t know if I should take offense at that or not.”

“I did read your mind earlier,” Jackson confesses. “And the red-haired lady …. she was really easy. I hardly had to try with her at all. It was like her thoughts just flew at me. I was wondering if that was because she was my birth mom. Do you think that could be right?”

The man stares at him blankly, not directly answering. “Her name is Dana Scully.”

“Dana Scully,” repeats Jackson.

“Have you ever heard that name before?”

“No,” Jackson says. “I don’t think so.”

“Did your parents tell you anything about your birth parents? Who they were, where you were from?”

“I don’t think they knew anything about them,” Jackson says. “It was a closed adoption.”

Fox Mulder nods, scratching his chin. “Yeah,” he says. It’s like a cloud of sadness has fallen over him. “Yeah, it would have been.” He fixes Jackson with a curious look. “Do you … have any questions for me? About any of this?”

“Uh. Sure.” Jackson looks around the room, slowly, as if the best question to ask might be scrawled on the walls. The faces peering out of the framed photos draw his attention again, but it’s all so much. He looks away, back at the box of pizza in front of them instead. “Is it… okay if I have another slice, Mr. Mulder?”

The man laughs a little, crossing his arms. “You can just call me Mulder.”

“I think I’m eating more than you, Mulder,” Jackson points out seriously. “It doesn’t seem fair. It’s your pizza.”

“I told you, eat as much as you want.”

Jackson feels like he has been polite enough. He shrugs. “Thanks,” Jackson says, taking another slice.

“Jackson,” Mulder says, watching him eat, his voice suddenly too casual. “Do you have any idea who your birth father is?”

Jackson picks up his piece of pizza and studies it, pulling off a particularly delicious-looking piece of sausage and sampling it. “Well,” he says, through a mouthful, “I’ve got a guess. Based on certain clues. But I don’t know for sure.”

“Clues you’ve read in people’s minds? Or clues you’ve noticed?”

Jackson shrugs again. “Both, I guess.” He gives Mulder a look, raising his eyebrows.

There’s a pause.

“What clues?”

“Well, I’m not stupid,” Jackson says matter-of-factly. “That woman, Dana Scully, was here, fighting with you. Lots of big feelings. Then, the way you’re acting now. Like you think I’m a brand new iPhone and you can’t stop looking at me. And how you seem to know things about me. That’s a bunch of clues.”

Mulder has been sitting with his arms crossed, and he hasn’t moved the entire time Jackson’s been talking. But now Jackson can see a tear sprouting in his eye. It surprises him. Wayne Van De Kamp, his father, would never have cried in front of him. Mulder blots it with his sleeve, and Jackson sees his hands are shaking, too.

Maybe he shouldn’t have said that so carelessly, kind of flippantly. It’s obviously a big deal to Mulder. Really, truthfully, it’s a big deal to Jackson, too—something he’s wondered about his whole life. But right now he just can’t have everything feel like a big deal all at once. Or he’ll explode or something.

He meets the man’s damp eyes.

“Yeah,” Mulder says roughly, trying to smile. “Okay. A lot of clues.” He pauses, uncrosses his arms, places his hands on the table. “I get the sense you can’t handle a lot more emotional drama right now, Jackson, and I get that, I really do. Believe it or not, I’ve been in that place myself.”

Jackson’s speechless. It’s like the man read his mind, but that’s not possible.

“I just want to say, we can talk about it whenever you want to,” Mulder adds. “No pressure.”

Jackson nods his head up and down, licking his lips nervously.

***

After dinner, they go back into the part of the room with the couch, which is surrounded by all the messy piles of books. Jackson sits on the floor and starts picking up volumes curiously. “The Art of Profiling?” he says. “Is that an art book?”

“No,” Mulder says with a smile, trying to kick piles out of the way. “It’s psychological profiling. Like for criminals.”

“Oh,” Jackson says, making a connection. “Like on Criminal Minds.”

“What’s that? A TV show?”

“Yeah,” Jackson says. “My parents love it. It’s about a team of FBI agents who profile dangerous criminals.” An exciting thought occurs to him. “Wait, is that what you did?”

“Yes,” Mulder says. “No. Kind of. I was a profiler, years and years ago. But then I was put on the X-files, where I investigated cases that had unexplainable, supernatural associations.”

“That’s why you have books like this,” Jackson says. He lifts the book Sasquatch: Diverse Perspectives. “Or this?” Extraterrestrial Abductions Beyond the Media.

“Yeah,” Mulder says, a self-deprecating shrug. “That’s right.”

“That’s badass,” Jackson says, a root of an idea occurring to him. He belatedly realizes his mistake. “I mean, that’s cool. Very cool,” he corrects himself.

“It was badass,” Mulder agrees, seemingly unaffected by Jackson’s profanity. “Although… it could be difficult. We went through a lot, working on the X-files. Scully and me.”

Jackson absorbs this information. “So you and Dana Scully worked together on the X-files. In the F.B.I.. That’s how you knew one another?”

“We were partners,” Mulder says with quiet precision, like this sentence is very important.

They’re just three words—we were partners—but Jackson can tell they tell an entire complicated story the length of a book or more. His shine cries out to be used, but Jackson pushes it aside.

“Mulder,” Jackson says slowly. “Is it a coincidence that you and my birth mom worked on these X-files … and that I have these abilities?”

“No, Jackson,” Mulder says, sighing heavily. “It’s probably not a coincidence.” He sits on the couch, looking down at Jackson still sitting on the floor. “There are things that both of us were exposed to that could have … caused the abilities.”

“But you guys don’t have them yourselves, right?”

“No. Not like you.”

It’s a frustrating answer. “Not like me? Or not at all?”

“Some things I want to wait to talk to you about,” Mulder replies. “Until we’ve had a chance to talk to your mother, too.”

Your mother.

Jackson inhales sharply, the words sending an unexpected shock through him.

“I meant Scully, of course,” Mulder says quickly, noticing his reaction. “I’m sorry.”

“Dana Scully isn’t my mother,” Jackson says with emphasis. “I have a mother.”

“I know.” Mulder’s eyes look impossibly sad. “I’m sorry, Jackson. I know.”

“I’m not looking to replace my parents,” Jackson says tightly. “That’s not why I’m here or what this is about. They’ll always be my parents. I love them.”

Mulder appears to sink further into the couch. “Yeah,” he says. “I can tell you do.”

Jackson looks down quickly at the stack of books again, playing silently with the cover of Criminology Through The Ages. He knows he shouldn’t have gotten angry. He knows Mulder didn’t mean anything by it, and he’s having to struggle with his shine now to keep from sensing any bad feelings or thoughts coming off of Mulder.

It’s just Jackson feels almost disloyal, sitting here talking to this man, learning this information about his birth parents’ lives, when his parents just died. When they probably died because of him.

“Jackson.” Mulder’s voice is kind. “What were they like? Your parents. Do you want to … tell me about them? I don’t know anything about them.”

Jackson pauses, still staring at the book in his hand. “Yeah,” he says. He tries to find the right words. He has to be the person who remembers them, who speaks for them to the world now. “They were … they weren’t anything like me. But they were great.”

Mulder waits patiently, his soft eyes on Jackson. Jackson puts the book back carefully on top of a pile.

“My dad was the shop teacher at Rawlins High School. He was good at woodworking, cabinetry. He was always trying to teach me.”

“Were you good at it, too?”

“No,” Jackson says with a tiny smile. “I was really, really bad at it.”

“Oh yeah?” Mulder echoes the tiny smile.

“I couldn’t cut straight. I forgot to measure,” Jackson says, shaking his head. “I was always disappointing him.”

“Not really,” Mulder guesses softly.

“No,” Jackson agrees, just as softly. “Not really.” He’s quiet, thinking more about his goofy, sweater-vested dad. “He was always cheerful. He thought you should look on the positive side of things, you know? Really into baseball. He coached my Little League team for a while.”

“That’s good,” Mulder says encouragingly. “It’s good to play sports.” He’s quiet, too. “And your mom?”

“Her job was running the church preschool,” Jackson says. “She was always singing. She loved holiday decorations, and to cook and bake.” He feels tears threatening. “She is just … she was a really good mom to me. Like, she hugged me all the time. I acted like I didn’t like it, but I did.”

“I’m glad she did that,” Mulder whispers. “I’m so glad.”

“She was really Christian. Really into church. They both were.”

“You were raised religious?”

“Yeah,” Jackson says. “Lutheran.” He glances at Mulder wryly. “But I was really bad at that, too.”

Mulder returns the look. “I’m not very good at that myself,” he says. “Scully’s religious, in her own way. But I’ve never been … that kind of believer. It’s just never made sense to me”

Something warm blooms in Jackson at being understood in this way. It’s never made sense to him, either.

“What are you good at?” Mulder asks. His tone is gentle, but Jackson’s shine is suddenly alert, suddenly aware of what’s underneath the man’s exterior. Mulder is hungry to know more about him, desperate for any detail. His need is so overwhelming, Jackson closes the door on it quickly.

“I don’t know,” Jackson says casually. “I’m good at math, I guess. Math comes easy to me.”

Mulder’s face lights up. “Scully’s amazing at math.” Looking over at Jackson, he seems to regret his words. His scolding to himself shines through. —stop making everything he says about me and Scully. “Sorry. You’re telling me about yourself.”

“I like to run,” Jackson continues. “I’m pretty fast, and I think I’m a good distance runner. I was thinking maybe I’d try out for the track team in high school.” He pauses. “But I guess I’m not going to high school now.”

“Come on,” Mulder says. “Of course you’re going to high school. Your life isn’t over.”

“I’m most likely going to prison,” Jackson mumbles darkly.

“Nah. Not going to happen.”

“I don’t even know where I’m going to live,” Jackson adds. “Where I’m going to stay tonight.”

“You’re obviously going to stay here tonight,” Mulder insists. “After that, we’ll figure it out.”

The lightning-fast image of a school building with a sign— Farrs Corner High School—and then another fast image, the two of them, Mulder and Jackson, running side by side on a country road, a road that looks a lot like the road right outside the farmhouse. Then almost instantly, more scolding in Mulder’s mind: Way ahead of yourself. Stop it. Haven’t even told Scully. Need to confirm.

“How will we confirm?” Jackson asks quickly. “What does that mean?”

Mulder’s eyebrows shoot up. “That’s going to take some getting used to.”

“Sorry,” Jackson says. “That was kind of rude of me, probably.”

“I have to remind myself you’re listening,” Mulder says with a small smile.

“I normally try to hide it more,” Jackson says. He stands up, stepping around the books to sit next to Mulder on the couch. “But I mean … what’s the point if you already know, right?”

“I was just thinking that before we introduce you to Scully, we should run DNA,” Mulder says. “Yours against mine. To confirm it.”

“Why?” Jackson says, frowning. “You don’t believe me?”

“Can’t you tell that I believe you?”

Jackson sighs. “Yeah, I think you do.” He kicks out his long legs and leans his head back against the back of the couch. “But like I said, you’re not the easiest.”

“The people that Scully and I used to be involved with,” Mulder says, “were the kind of people who would go to extremes. Even extremes like convincing a kid his birth mother was someone she wasn’t. Like planting ideas into people’s heads. I don’t think you’re lying, but I think it would be smart to know for sure.”

Jackson swings his head to look at Mulder. “Who were these people?”

Mulder regards him with a troubled expression. “I’ll answer that, Jackson. But I think you need to answer this, too: who drove you here? To Virginia?”

“I told you,” Jackson says, folding his arms defensively, “I can’t tell you that.”

“Why?” Mulder’s eyebrows draw together in concern. “It worries me a little. Did the person who drove you ask you not to tell me?”

“Yeah, they did,” Jackson admits. “But I don’t think they’re one of these bad people you’re talking about. They were just trying to help me.”

“But Jackson,” Mulder says urgently, “you need to understand that—”

“You’re just going to have to trust me,” Jackson insists, and his voice sounds younger than he intends. “Please. Just trust me.”

Mulder rubs his temple with one finger. “Okay,” he says simply. “I can do trust.” He leans forward on his forearms. “But still, Jackson, I think we gotta do the DNA test. If you’re not … the person we think you are—and who Scully thinks you are, it would be too hard for her.”

“She’s been wanting to see me that bad?”

Mulder is surprised. “Of course she has. Of course.”

“But it was a closed adoption. Her choice.”

Mulder opens and closes his mouth, again seeming not to know what to say. “Since the second she let you go,” he says, his voice strained, “she’s been wanting to see you again.”

Jackson’s shine pulls in an image then of a baby in a crib, crying, and then the woman Mulder calls Scully, younger, crying and crying, inconsolable.

It’s all too sad, and Jackson is sad already.

“Okay. DNA test tomorrow then,” Jackson says, shrugging. “No big deal.”

“Great,” Mulder says, standing up. “Now I thought I’d show you where you’ll be sleeping if you want. I’ll have to put sheets on the guest bed first. Maybe you can help me. This place used to be a little more organized when Scully lived here.”

“You have a guest room, huh?” Jackson says. “Fancy.”

“Yeah,” Mulder says in a strange voice. “It’s just an extra bedroom. Small. Not too fancy.”

It was supposed to be your room. In case we got you back somehow. Mulder’s thoughts are suddenly and unexpectedly clear.

“Then I guess I better sleep in it,” Jackson responds flatly, following along behind him.

***

#xfiles fanfic #the x files #x files fanfic #fox mulder #dana scully #x files #xf fanfic #msr #jackson van de kamp

[silverflqmes]

haithellie

- who fell first and how?

- what book sealed the deal on your relationship?

- did you guys join a book club together, if so — what was the book that caught both of your guys’ eye?

- what do the boys think about your guys’ relationship? (kaveh, cyno, & tighnari)

tartellie

- how did you guys meet and how long did it take for a single date?

- which of you said i love you first and how?

- e2l, which one admits they’re in love first and why?

yuellie

- he misses the high cloud quintet, how do you comfort him?

- you both fight phantylia together, who falls down first?

- bonus: who went for the body? i think i can answer this one

sephellie

- how to make a day of fun so sephiroth can be human again

- how would you style his hair for fun

- how to get him to stop being cloudobsessed and you-obsessed instead!!!

at long last i answered your ask bc monkey brain has just been SEPHIROTH SEPHIROTH SEPHIROTH as of late.. ahem. now without further delay, time to get the cogs winding

𓍼 haithellie.

— if i’m going with my e2l idea, he fell first because i was in hella denial.. but i fell harder. i haven’t really come up with much but i’m thinking we would both be in places in our lives where we’re dealing with loneliness?? for me i would have left home to study so i’d kinda be adjusting, while alhaitham has kinda been on his own, having lost his parents from young, and later his grandmother that took care of him after that. so i think we would have found mutual comfort in each other and he would have caught some feelings just from little details. stupid habits i have, shared interests, the bantering since we would have both been in the same darshan..

— i totally missed this question until i went back to read for the next ship but UHHH the wicked king cuz it’s my fav and i’ll never be normal about it

— we joined a book club not knowing that the other would be in there too LMAO it was just supposed to be a pastime kinda thing and it was just coincidence that we both ended up in it together.. but let me think, me being me i like my romantasy books so i dunno it alhaitham would also be into those.. but i could see him reading the folk of air — totally not bc it’s my favorite series, totally not bc we act like jude and cardan, totally not because — yeah, you got me..

— alhaitham wants them nowhere near me ( minus tighnari ) because they would enable me and they would tease him sm.. but i think we would be super chill together, i could see us playing uno or monopoly and just- disaster happening BAH but anyway i think they would be happy about alhaitham finding someone after his losses, and even it kaveh might be petty.. he’s happy for him<3

𓍼 tartellie.

— omg akira-san, i mean uh, tartaglia, yeah.. ahem. let me think.. we would have met at a flower shop, he was buying flowers to bring home to his family since he was likely away from home for a good while. he was just scanning all the different types, not sure which to pick, to which he would approach me, thinking me to be the store clerk ( i was not ). confused, i would break to him that i do not work there.. to which he would get embarrassed LMAO but since we were talking, he would ask on my opinion anyway, to which i’d try my best to offer a few options to my basic knowledge of flower language. i think he would show interest in the way i talk and explain, the hand gestures and expressions i make, but he’d ignore it.. until we stumbled once more upon each other, where he would chat with me.. and then proposes the idea of getting lunch. totally not a date, just lunch..

— he did and probably said so without even saying those three words tbh?? i don’t know how he would say it, but uh maybe smtn like.. “it’s strange.. home, until now was always being with my family back in snezhnaya.. but somehow, you seemed to have brought that feeling to me here and have blossomed it into something a little more than family, something special and precious to me.”

— now for this.. me LMAO if it was e2l it would end up as an unspoken confession i feel?? maybe if he was seriously injured or um, overdid things again because he used foul legacy or his delusion in a fight.. to which i would yell at him in a way that sounded like i really cared for him, and tartaglia would end up saying something along the lines of me sounding like i loved him or something.. to which i would go silent and he would piece it all together. unspoken confession!!

𓍼 yuellie.

— understandable as to why he would miss them, especially cuz he’s the last one remaining and with his memories in tact. it’s kinda heartbreaking honestly, but i understand the kinda fall of a friend group in a way, granted i still talk with mine but very minimally these days. regardless, i would do my best to comfort him, maybe take him out or encourage him to come be around others as well outside of his duties, just to feel yk welcomed as a dude and not just as a general. i think he’d like something like that cuz company helps when you miss those that you were once close with.

— AKWJSJDJSKSJ i fall down first and i make sure to KNEEL ( i did it on purpose ) yuan is probably like ellie???? and i’m like ain’t no way you said you’re going for the body — I’M GOING FOR THE BODY, YOU SIT YOUR ASS BACK THERE. atp he’s like, am i about to have my girl stolen by horrifyingly attractive woman that wants to kill us and is not just twice but several times her size?? he’s just watching in complete shock but like part of him understands.. i mean.. come on.

— I WENT FOR THE BODY AGAIN AND AGAIN ahem, your assumptions are likely correct.

𓍼 sephiellie.

— screams in sephiroth. okay um. let me actually get into this. sooo a day to make sephi have fun and feel more human.. well! after buying flowers from a certain peddler, i would whip out my super slay cool flip phone and urge him to come over after work because i had a surprise for him. said surprise is flowers to braid into his hair and a flower for him to keep at home cuz sephiroth having a green thumb sounds so adorable. for the rest, it would be just a cute self care day to remind him of his humanity in spite of whatever modifications and experiments were done on him ( FUCK YOU HOJO YOU UGLY ASS PIECE OF SHIT, THERE’S A REASON I’M NOT IN FFVII AND THAT’S BC YOUR ASS WOULD BE THROUGH, WHICH MEANS THE STORY DOESN’T END UP HAPPENING SO NO GAME )

— the braid with the flowers in it! high ponytail for sure HE IS SO PRETTY<3 maybe a bun as well after i told him that mine absolutely sucked and that my mom refused to let me out of the house without her doing my hair.. so he would ask to see how bad said bun is — so it ends up messy because i didn’t wanna make it too tight.. his hair is also super long.. but he liked it, probably wondered why i couldn’t leave the house when it looked so nice on him ( sobbing he’s so so sweet ), furthermore i would try the princess leia space buns and perhaps twin tails<3 he also would do my hair and try out different styles too, he’s so gentle<3

— I DON’T KNOW I GUESS I NEED SOME MAKO BATHS AND HIS CELLS SO HE CAN INVADE MY THOUGHTS INSTEAD😐 but like.. sefikura.. IM TORN

okay i believe that was all of them.. this took way longer than i’d expected😭

#sky chan🙁💞 #— ; 🏹 ) sephiellie. #— ; 🏹 ) haithellie. #— ; 🏹 ) tartellie. #— ; 🏹 ) yuellie.

[theprettynosferatu]

1 - The Professional

I don’t expect you to like me. In fact, I’m willing to bet that by the end of my story you will loathe me. That’s okay. I’m not a good person– no one in my line of business is. But I do want you to understand I acted without malice, no matter how cruel my actions may seem. I just take my job seriously, that’s all.

When he walked into my office I could read pain in his deep black eyes, his slow, defeated gait. He was a broken man, and as he told me his story I could tell he wasn’t just speaking: he was living it all over again. The surprise and fear when he realized he was attracted to the babysitter. The thrill and guilt of the illicit affair. The shame as he realized she had played him and he had been too weak to resist her. The rest was predictable: pregnancy, shattered marriage, loss of custody over his only son, child support payments for the one that ruined his life. And yet in that ocean of despair he had found a light, a hope. He called it a need for justice. Others might call it a lust for revenge. I didn’t care either way as long as I got paid.

After we reached an agreement, I went to work. The first step for a proper hunt is to study the prey, to get to know its haunts and routines, its weaknesses and blind spots. Old timers waxed poetic about how hard it used to be, the hours of surveillance and shadowing the mark. All I needed to do was boot up a computer. No point in watching a generation that surveils itself, that lives its life like a mixture of advertisement and open wound. What they post and what they don’t, when they are active online, who they follow… the rosetta stone to their hearts is out there for anyone that can read it. Kate Meadows was no different than most twenty one year olds, in that regard. If anything, she had a taste for the attention that salacious pictures brought her. 

I printed a picture of her and pinned it to my board. A completely unnecessary action, I know; but we all have our quirks. I looked deep into her blue eyes and asked the key question I needed to solve. Kate Meadows: what do you lack?

2 - The Homewrecker

Kate barely ever thought of James. He was punctual with his payments, and so he mostly existed as a line on her income sheet. She supposed he was the father of little Marie in a biological sense, but deep down she felt Marie had been born simply as a result of Kate’s own skill. She had willed the child into existence. A part of her had been concerned that some useless maternal instinct would appear, that she would be trapped by a genetic monstrosity hidden somewhere in her DNA and would become one of those disgusting women that cooed and posted pictures of their spawn online for the world to see. Happily, after the birth she felt no more attachment to little Marie than she did for a particularly cherished scarf. No, her most pressing concern after the birth had been to get back in shape.

Aunt Carmen could handle Marie. That had been one of the reasons for Kate’s move to Miami. Carmen was childless, resentful about it and had skeletons in her closet. She embraced Marie as her own just as Kate expected, and if she ever decided to tell Kate a peep about parenting, the younger woman had leverage to keep her quiet and servile. All things considered, a good deal. As Kate walked to the gym, she took in the looks from passers-by. Ah, there was the other reason for the move.

Miami was where rich, older men came to express their various midlife crises. Honestly, it was too easy to do her job here.

Sex was a key that opened many doors, as Kate had learned quickly. It wasn’t just looking desirable– although that was important, hence her strict gym routine and skincare habits. No, it was more than that. It was knowing how to convey a look of innocence with a hint that, perhaps, this good girl would like to be corrupted; or to say without words that she was a freak that would gladly engage in any kink and make every wet dream come true; or to project an aura of vulnerability, like a wounded kitten only looking for a protector, a guide to whom she would be oh so very grateful… The trick was knowing who to become for each mark, and she had been honing those instincts for years. Miami was the perfect hunting ground: the male loneliness capital of America.

Hell, she didn’t even need to fuck most of her marks. They kept her cozy, brought her to the best clubs, bought dinner at the most exclusive restaurants, gave her clothes and jewels and all manner of presents, all for a dream stoked by Kate with smiles, looks, suggestive words. Hope was a powerful force, and that she could provide. False hope perhaps, but real enough for her marks to fantasize the nights away. Sure, she did fuck some of them every now and then but that was hardly a sacrifice. She loved the thankfulness in their eyes, the sensation that she was a goddess bestowing her blessings on these damned souls. She came so hard bouncing on them, knowing they were her toys, her little walking ATMs. She loved that they didn’t know, loved how they looked at her with complete adoration. Nothing felt better than riding their cocks like she rode their hearts, coaxing moans and words at will with her skills. 

Suddenly, a warm shower fell on the street. Tourists, unaccustomed to the city’s regular midday rains, started running. Kate let the water caress her, let her clothes get soaked and cling to her every curve, accentuate her silhouette. Who knew, maybe she would land a rich tourist to ride and drain for a few days.

Then, she was on the ground. It took her a moment to realize someone had bumped into her. She would be upset if she didn’t know the “accidental bump” was a standard lame attempt at approaching a woman. Well, one look would tell her if she had gotten a quick success or landed a dud. 

The man barely looked at her. Expensive watch. Classy but not tacky shoes. Understated clothing in that way that old money men tended to play down their inherited wealth. Fucking bingo. A tad too young for her usual fare, but she could hook him. She took his outstretched hand and got up, expecting the usual apologies, followed by an offer to make things up to her– with a drink, perhaps? 

Instead, all she got was a quick glance. Oh, that would not do. She smiled.

“Sorry! I’m so clumsy sometimes”, she offered. There. Door open. Come in, little man.

“Yup,” he replied. Nothing more.

He left her standing there, dumbfounded. He hadn’t spared her a second look. If anything, his tone had been of utter derision. What the fuck? Whatever. He was probably gay anyway. She shook off the strange feeling in her chest and resumed her walk to the gym.

3 - Analysis

After a week of observation, I made first contact. Oh, Kate. You thought you were so complex, so smart. I went to the board. Lots of sugar daddies, that was for certain. You felt on top, and yet you were a prisoner, like everyone else. Your cage was gilded, your life a race from pleasure to pleasure, all so short lived, all so disappointing in the end. You were a seeker, and didn’t even know it. Like a fool, you went to the ocean and believed it would take the thirst away. Kate… I would have felt sorry for you, if my job allowed such things.

4 - Apocalypse in Neon

She took a deep breath, smelling the sea. Todd had just left, and Kate felt things had gone as well as they could have. It hadn’t been a hard call: Todd’s wallet had gotten lighter, his gifts slightly cheaper, his demands more intense. Sure, she could have made up some medical emergency or family crisis to squeeze one final paycheck… but she didn’t need the money at the moment and it was always better to let the used up ones go with as little bitterness as possible; and so she had pulled out the “need to find myself, you deserve someone that is focused on you” speech. It was bullshit, but she could sell it and it kept the number of angry men in her life at a minimum. Besides, one never knew when a sudden return to their lives might be needed. 

She looked at her drink. It was sweet and sour and she wasn’t sure she liked it at all: she had let Todd order for them both. Men liked that. Colored lights flashed and shifted, tinting the liquid in her hand. It felt a bit weird. A million imagined futures had been shattered by a single conversation, entire possible worlds had collapsed with her words and Miami didn’t care: it kept its bright night going with party music and a multitude of artificial suns painting scene after scene in different colors.

“Well done. I’m impressed”

Kate had been too immersed in the neon spectacle to notice the man sitting down on the chair in front of her. It took her a second, but she recognized him. The asshole that had pushed her down a few days before. Oh, great. She wasn’t planning on hunting that night, but… still, who the fuck did this dude think he was?

“I don’t know what you’re talking about”

“The landing, girl. That could have gotten nasty, you know. But I guess you’re clever about picking your men, filter out the violent ones early, keep the more melancholic ones hooked”

Kate looked at the man, anger bubbling up. Part of it was his sheer rudeness. Part of it was that he was absolutely right. She did know how to tell if a man had that violent streak deep inside and how to keep them away. She knew she should just get up and leave, but her curiosity got the best of her. How had this random guy made her?

“What the fuck do you mean?”, she blurted out.

“Look around you. At a glance, what would you say is the average age of the men in this bar? And how old are the girls? Quite the gap, right? Look at the way they’re dressed. That’s bait. The short skirts and tight pants, the pink tops with childish designs, the eye-catching makeup… advertising, that’s all it is. Sure, I suppose it could be a coincidence and they all have daddy issues and a fetish for beer bellies and expensive cars, but I doubt it. They’re working, just like you. I was merely expressing admiration for good work, from one manipulator to another”

Kate felt her chest tighten. It wasn’t just that this asshole had called her out: it was the fact that looking around she saw other girls like her, flirting and luring men in. For the first time Kate Meadows felt something, something she definitely didn’t like. She felt common. There were so many girls… some barely out of their teens; others with cosmetic enhancements that drew the eye to their chests; others catering to special tastes: goths, tradgirls, babygirls… She felt so small, just another fish in a vast ocean… no, she wasn’t like them. She was better. She was the best at what she did. Still, it was an uncomfortable feeling. And who the fuck was this man?

“That’s a cynical view of things, don’t you think?” she challenged. She took the time to really look at him. He was handsome, sure… and his blue eyes were positively entrancing, his lips almost femenine in their fullness; but a deeper, primal part of her told her that he was dangerous.

“True. Cynical, certainly. But I’m not mistaken, am I? Don’t get me wrong, you seem really fucking good at your job, but you are delusional if you think some new girl will show up and do your gimmick better than you. And besides, this… this whole grind, it’s a fool’s game”

“Oh, so I’m a fool now too?”

“I didn’t say that. I’m saying that the real money, the fuck you money… they don’t come here, to this neon purgatory. They have their exclusive resorts and hotels in Monaco and private islands and Lord knows what. Sure, you can make a living here for a while but it seems to me like you should be aiming higher”

“Is that so? And apparently you would know how to reach those higher goals? Who the fuck are you to tell me how to do my job?”

“I’m a professional, like you. True, I don’t con middle aged divorcees, but I’m really good at what I do. I can read people. And I can give you the skillset you still lack”

“I see. And you’ll do this out of the kindness of your heart?”

“Of course not”

“So what’s the gameplan? You teach me, hook me up with richer people and… what? Get to fuck me whenever you want? Get to have me on my knees with a snap of your fingers? Get a cut of what I make? Protect me, maybe? Are you trying to be my pimp?”

He laughed. It was a delighted, genuine sort of laughter, as if the idea of pimping was ridiculous on its face. Or maybe what was silly was the idea of pimping her. For some reason she felt slightly insulted. What, was he too good to pimp her? Did he think pimping her wouldn’t be profitable? Did he think she couldn’t be a top notch whore if she put her mind to it? And was the idea of keeping her as his fucktoy so… without charm?

“What’s so funny?”, she grumbled.

“Nothing. Just the visual of someone like me being a pimp, of all things. No, that’s not the plan. But I do have a plan. You see, I’ve been in contact with a certain individual… I’ve been looking for an angle to do my job... And as much as it pains me to admit it, this is a job I cannot do alone. This particular case needs, well, you. But it needs a better you. A more… diverse you in terms of attitude and willingness to do certain things”

“Ah. You have a mark with certain tastes. You want to ingratiate yourself with him, and introducing me to him would get you closer to him, but you want me to be his perfect woman. You want power over him and to use me to get that, is that it?”

“Something like that”

“Why me? You said it, there’s a lot of girls to pick from here”

“I want to do the job right. That means it has to be you”

Kate felt flattered, she had to admit. Perhaps that’s why she found herself more and more drawn by the man’s proposal.

“How big is the target?”

“The person involved is Important. A man that feels very strongly about many things. Driven. Willing to pay to see his desires fulfilled”

Kate made a mental image of the man. A CEO maybe. Maybe an investment banker. In any case, way above the upper middle-management types she usually dealt with.

“Let’s say I’m interested. What, you take me to him?”

“Eventually. When you’re ready. Like I said, he has very concrete ideas. We need to work together first so you can fulfill that role. Practice. Train. Study. It would be a challenge”

Kate felt her competitive blood boiling. She could be anything. She could become anyone’s perfect dream. That was her gift, and frankly hunting the same kind of man over and over was getting a bit boring. A challenge with a big payday? That sounded intriguing.

“When would we begin?”

“Tomorrow”

“You know you didn’t tell me your name, right?”

“I know. Does it matter? It’s not like you’d ever know if any name I say is real. So… you choose. What should my name be?”

“Hum… something European, maybe? Classy. Leon. How about that?”

“Sure. Leon it is. Nice to meet you, Kate��

“Nice to meet you, Leon. So, we exchange numbers now?”   

5 - Improving

The hotel room was clearly expensive, with nice, classy furniture and a large bed. Kate noticed there was absolutely nothing that would give her a clue as to Leon’s state of mind or habits. No personal effects, no little objects that might offer any sort of clue. She didn’t look for long: her eyes were drawn to the tripod and the camera aimed at the bed.

“So we’re shooting porn now?” she asked

“Don’t be silly. It’s for you. So you can review your performance and improve”

Right. Improving. Training. It still felt odd: seduction came to her as naturally as breathing; how special could this target be? How refined his sexual tastes? Of course, there was always the chance that Leon was a psycho and lying to her face… and yet, she couldn’t bring herself to believe that. It wasn’t anything concrete, just a sort of aura, a vibe she couldn’t put into words. In short… Leon just felt like a good person, deep down. Dangerous, but good.

“Okay. So, let’s make me this dude’s perfect girl. How is she?”

“Hard to sum up. Submissive, but more than that. He needs a woman that just… feels the need to please him deep in her bones, needs it more than anything. A woman that can overcome any moral or personal limit if she thought it would bring him pleasure. A woman devoted, body and mind, to his happiness. A chameleon that can be the most traditional housewife and the trashiest slut”

“Oh, I can do that”

“Show me”

“Man the camera and learn, ‘professional’”

Leon did just that as Kate hopped on the large, white bed. When she saw Leon giving her the sign that he was recording, Kate closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them and pierced the lens with her gaze, Kate was gone. Instead, a new person seemed to be inhabiting her body. She stretched like a cat and let her hands roam over her body.

“Daddy,” she moaned, “look at me. I’m yours. Let me be yours. Let me please your cock with every inch of my tight body… please, please, use me. I need it, Daddy. I need you to use me… abuse me… anyway you want. Anywhere, anytime. I’m just your toy, your little fuckdoll for you to play with… I need it! I need to make you happy…”

“I don’t buy it”

The words hit Kate like a bucket of freezing water.

“Sorry?”

“You’re good. That little performance might work for most, but I don’t buy it and neither will he”

“What do you mean?”

“Are you wet?”

“What?”

“Is. Your cunt. Wet.”

Kate took a moment.

“A… little bit” she admitted.

“That’s not enough. That’s the problem. You’re still in control. Measured. I can see your mind at work behind your pleading eyes. You can fake arousal, but desperation, true desperation… that’s not something you can just pretend you feel. Your pussy needs to truly need it. You need to train your body, not your acting skill.”

“And how do you suggest I do that?”

“I assume you know how edging works”

“Yeah, but I don’t see the point in it”

“That’s because you’ve never reached the state of absolute need you have to reach for this job, Kate. Every movement, every inflection of your voice needs to be a manifestation of a physical, irresistible urge to please. And edging will help you get there”

Kate thought for a moment. Edging seemed silly to her. Pointless. But if it might make her better at her job… why not try?

“So… what now?”

Leon tossed a tablet on the bed.

“That is loaded with porn. The kind he likes, straight from his browser history. Edge to it for a few hours, and whatever you do, don’t cum. I’ll go do some shopping in the meantime. Have fun.”

With that, Kate was alone and mystified. He had just… left. After that performance, he had felt no need to even touch her, or tease her, or offer a single word of praise. What the fuck? She felt her competitive spirit rising again. Fine. She’d show him. Kate made herself comfortable, removed her small skirt and turned the tablet on.

The first video was quite standard, Kate felt. The girl was hot, docile and so, so eager… when the inevitable cocksucking happened, what Kate saw was less a blowjob and more an act of religious worship. The girl kissed, liked, cuddled the big cock as if it was the single most important thing in the universe. Suddenly, unexpectedly, an orgasm started to build and Kate managed to barely stop it. Shit, that was a surprise. A part of her felt frustrated and angry at her own denial, at the orgasm that never came, but damn it she would show Leon she could edge with the best of them. She took a deep breath and went to the second video.

Oh, a solo work. Interesting. The girl was in what Kate assumed to be anime cosplay. Sure, whatever. People liked what people liked. Then something remarkable happened. The girl was edging, like her. Her tongue was out, which made her look almost less than human, like a mindless animal in heat. Kate’s pussy sent a wave of pleasure at the realization. Maybe she should… why not? Kate opened her mouth and did her best to mimic the desperate expression in the girl’s face. It felt… good. Good in a way she had never experienced. Somehow… relaxing. As if she didn’t have to think about anything but pleasure, anything but rubbing. Then, the girl spoke to the camera. Her voice was a plea, the expression of a deep, overwhelming need.

“Please… please make me yours… make me your property, your pet, your fuckdoll… I don’t want to think anymore… I’ll do whatever you want, whenever you want… I’ll be… fuck… whoever you want me to be… I’m empty… You can fill me with your ideas, your desires… please, please… let me live for you… share me with your friends… use my holes whenever you want… that’s all I am… holes and tits… rent me out… make me do things I can never take back… ruin me for your amusement…”

It hit Kate like a truck. The girl meant every word and Kate found herself muttering along before having to stop herself from cumming. Panting, she looked at the ceiling. Fuck, that was hot. She would never have guessed seeing that degree of utter submission would do anything for her, but… Well, the edging didn’t help, she supposed. She would probably find anything hot. She went to the third video.

Things became a blur of edges, drooling and images. At some point her mind… shut down. She only edged and watched and imitated what she saw. One of the girls was bound, helpless, used over and over and over like a good girl… another was teaching a younger girl to be obedient, to suck cock, to worship… another only proclaimed herself to be a silly cow, edging and mooing and playing with her huge udders…

At some point, Leon came in. Kate couldn’t stop. His eyes were cold, clinical. He was evaluating her. Kate could only think about his cock… cock… that was all that mattered. She couldn’t think. Everything was fuzzy and warm and vibrating. 

“That’s enough for today”, he said.

What? No, it couldn’t be! She needed to please cock… she needed to serve her purpose, to be a good girl! 

“Now, we’ll meet tomorrow. But remember: don’t cum”

Don’t cum. He had said it as an order. To her, it was a divine commandment. Good girls didn’t cum.

6 - Bound

Kate knocked on the door with more intensity than she intended to. Her mind flashed back to the previous night. Leon hadn’t told her to do anything and still… her memory was a blur of edging and porn, of speaking out loud words she’d never would have said and enjoying every second of it, of denying herself an orgasm she desperately craved just because… why? Because the Leon in her head would approve of it and she needed to please him. Because the videos made her say it over and over. Because good girls didn’t cum.

When the door finally opened, Kate fought the urge to drop to her knees. There was something so liberating, like losing all control was true freedom. No calculation, no plans, only pleasure and obedience. Leon, on the other hand, was in no hurry. He showed her in, asked her if she’d like some water. Kate couldn’t really decide if she did, and she wished Leon could make that choice for her. She was so fuzzy she didn’t notice the leather bindings on the bed until Leon pointed them out.

“The mark is very, very interested in these. Top notch, expensive stuff. You can adapt the length of the chains and everything. A bitch to set up, let me tell you”

Kate’s pussy sent her a pang of pleasure. Leon had set this up for her. She needed to be thankful. She needed to prove she was worthy. She needed to express her appreciation… her lips felt warm. She needed to please his cock. She took a step toward the man that seemed less and less a man and more and more a divinity… but he stopped her with a single gesture.

“Oh, the edging did a number on you. But we need to focus on the task at hand. Take of your clothes and get on the bed, Kate”

She removed her scant clothing as if it was asphyxiating her, tossing top and jean shorts on the floor. As she crawled (like a bitch in heat, her mind added) on the bed, she became aware of something… something out of place. But what? She couldn’t tell. Her mind was too fuzzy and dizzy to pinpoint her. Something didn’t add up, but she didn’t care. She spread her arms and legs and let Leon strap her, every moment feeling herself become more and more her property. He owned her. Or would own her if she was deserving of it. What had happened to her? Why did she want this -need this- so much?

She was exposed. Spread-eagled on the bed, incapable of escaping, at the absolute mercy of the man standing before her. It crossed her mind that he could do anything to her, anything at all– and not only she didn’t care, she relished the feeling. She was an object, without will or freedom and all she could feel was… relaxation. Letting go was something so new, so exciting: like he was a river after a storm and she was nothing but a leaf, carried along. She didn’t have to scheme, she didn’t have to fake. All she needed to do was feel and obey. His hand barely touched her inner thigh and a shiver ran up her spine. She bucked her hips. Her cunt needed to be used, and it was so strong, so powerful… while she was so powerless and deliciously weak. She’d do anything, anything to please him. It was something she had needed her whole life and never even known it: to just… be. No more chasing, no more pointless holding on to control. Just existing, just being empty… it was bliss. But the hand was skilled, and caressed her softly without even touching her pussy, without giving her a measure of relief. She moaned and whimpered and her breathing became a ragged, shallow thing.

Without a word, Leon took off his pants. There it was. His cock. It was all that mattered, all she needed. Please cock. It was as simple a purpose as she could imagine, and yet it felt like the most glorious task. A miniscule part of her was trying to ring an alarm, to tell her she had missed something important. But then, looking at that beautiful cock… nothing else was important. Her mouth filled with saliva and she stuck her tongue out like a brainless puppy. She needed to feel it inside her. Inside her mouth, her pussy, her ass… it didn’t matter. And, she knew, it wasn’t up to her. All she could do was squirm, and hope.

Leon took a step towards the side of the bed, studying her with his big, blue eyes. 

“You are not faking this, are you Kate?”

Kate could only shake her head. Words were too complex for her.

“I can sense it. This isn’t one of your two-bit performances for sad bastards. This is real despair. Real need. Real submission. And to think you achieved it with only a single day of edging! Some girls take weeks or months of training to get to this point, but not you” He climbed on the bed. Kate could smell him… all she could do was drool and pant and hope he would use her mouth-hole… “Wonder why that is? How you broke so easily, Kate? Now, I need you to tell me the truth: what would you do to please my cock?” 

Kate had to make a superhuman effort to speak, and even then the words came in bursts, not even proper sentences. “Anything… edged doll… make me better… anything… take me… own me… edged… needy…”

Leon examined her. Her body didn’t lie. He pinched her nipple, drawing pitiful moans from the former homewrecker. The fall had been spectacular, and much quicker than he had anticipated. He moved a bit closer, and Kate strained to reach his cock, desperate to feel it in her mouth. He decided to give her a taste.

She didn’t really suck his cock. She devoured it, kissed it, licked it, made love to it. Her hands strained against their cuffs, eager to hold the marvelous member, to feel its warmth, the way the blood flowed through it. This was it. All she was. All she wanted to be. And she felt… grateful. So, so grateful that Leon was deeming her worthy enough to use her mouth. She soaked the sheets while humping the air. The world faded away. Please his cock. That was all that existed.

He spoke with unusual composure, given the spectacular job Kate was doing. That only made her more eager. He was in control. She was barely more than a beast.

“Kate… you broke so easily because that’s what you wanted, deep down. You were afraid of it, so you always put yourself in a position to rule others. Don’t you see? You were never satisfied because you were too scared to admit it to yourself. You needed to be… taken”

Yes. Yes. Leon was right. Leon was always right. He knew best. He knew her better than she had ever known herself. This was what she had always desired. To serve. To obey. Now… now she was home, having found someone worthy of worship. She took the cock deep in her throat, trying to milk it, to coax the wonderful cum from it… that would give her all the validation she’d ever need. It all began and ended with making his cock cum.

“It even made you blind to the obvious”

There it was again. The alarm. She pushed it away. She didn’t care. She was a cockslave. His cockslave. That's all she ever wanted to be. The idea of going back… unthinkable. Cumming without Leon’s permission? An abomination, not worth considering. His words came from far away, fuzzy and indistinct. She needed to serve.

“Kate, think back to our first conversation”, he said, pulling away. Kate whimpered. She had been given an order, and so she obeyed. Her mind went back to that encounter under the neon lights. It was hard to focus. Hard to remember.

“Kate, when did you tell me your name?” 

It hit her like a train. That was it. The thing that didn’t add up. She never did. She never told him her name… and still…

“Sure. Leon it is. Nice to meet you, Kate”

“Nice to meet you, Leon. So, we exchange numbers now?”   

She felt as if the floor had disappeared. She was floating in a vast, silent void. Only her needy pussy kept her linked to reality, demanding her to obey. She felt Leon lengthen the chains on her feet.

“Now you know. You are the mark. You were always the mark. Or the… target, so to speak. I never lied to you. There is a man. You just assumed he was the victim, rather than my employer. Hell, I almost told you as much”

“This particular case needs, well, you”

“I want to do the job right. That means it has to be you”

“The person involved is Important. A man that feels very strongly about many things. Driven. Willing to pay to see his desires fulfilled”

The phrases floated in her head. Leon was right. She should have seen it, should have noticed. Yet she hadn’t. Why? Because… because a part of her wanted to fall. Wanted to be defeated. Wanted to bathe in the despair and become a willing slave. And Leon had seen that in her.

“I’m a professional, like you. True, I don’t con middle aged divorcees, but I’m really good at what I do. I can read people”

It was true. He was better than her. She should hate him. But she could only feel wetter and wetter as the depth of her failure sunk in. He had conquered her. Defeated her. Broken her. He deserved to be her owner.

“And knowing the truth, I know what you’ll do. You’ll obey, even if you know you shouldn’t. Raise your legs”

Before the words had registered in her mind, her body was doing as it was told, and in a flash her knees were beside her ears, her holes presented as a token of her submission to her superior.

“I tricked you. Used you. Warped you. And still, you’ll beg me to use your ass. How pathetic is that?”

“So pathetic… I’m so pathetic… I deserve this. I deserve to be a fucktoy. Nothing more. I deserve to be used. I deserve to be abused. I deserve this. You own me. You own me. You are better than me… so please… please use my tight asshole! Please! Please let my body please your cock! It’s all I’m good for! I’m a living fleshlight, a breathing cumdump for you!”

She felt him stretching her. It hurt in the best way possible. She was being useful. He was taking ownership of her. A mixture of pain and pleasure coursed through her body, her brain overwhelmed by the sensations and the acceptance of her utter, complete defeat. It was so good. So good to finally embrace it. With every pump, he blasted away pieces of the person she had once been. She welcomed it. She was ready to be a lesser, greater being. She was ready to take his cum deep inside her body. A body he owned…

Then he stopped.

He pulled out and the emptiness he left behind wasn’t just physical. Kate felt cold. She needed it. Needed him. He had shown her her true self, and only he was worthy of her devotion, of her undying, slavish love. Only he could make her feel like her true self…

She panicked as he put his pants on. No, no, he couldn’t leave. He couldn’t… Her life… there was no return to the gray days of teasing and using lesser men. Not when she had tasted this. Not when she had seen the light. He couldn’t just…

“For what it’s worth, let me tell you this: you had no chance. There was nothing you could have done differently, because you are what you are, and I am what I am. I don’t hate you. I don’t even dislike you that much. But I take pride in my work, and I believe I did quite a number on you, didn’t I? Now you know what you were looking for all along, and you know you’ll never reach it. This, I’m afraid, is goodbye. Someone from the hotel will untie you shortly”

Kate weeped. It was all she could do, and she knew it. Her old self now appeared to her a silly simulacrum, shattered by the truth Leon had shown her: as artificial and tacky as Miami’s neon nights. She watched him walk to the door. He paused, and Kate let herself feel hope for the last time.

“James says hi”, Leon said.

7 - Goodbye?

I told you I wasn’t a good person, and reading this, you’d be correct in hating me. I don’t mind.

I don’t mind because I know that if we were ever to cross paths, you’d never know it unless I wanted you to. I don’t mind because I know that, whoever you are, I’ll find that small crack in you, that need everyone has and doesn’t even realize it, and I’ll use it against you. I’ll be what you need, and you’ll never be able to tell what I truly am. I don’t mind because you’ll love me, and I’ll break your heart.

If not me, someone like me. There’s more of us than you may think. Professionals. We don’t advertise, yet clients always manage to find us. 

In fact, can you be sure you haven’t encountered one of us already?

Did you enjoy this story? You can support my work at patreon.com/prettynosferatu and get early access and the full library!

Special thanks to @dumb-doll-lips for being Kate in the cover!

#writing #fiction #short story #fantasy #commissions

[wisheduponastar]

Origami Hearts (2k, M/M)

For Day 19 of @danganronpashipmonths Saioma month. Inspired by the prompt : First Kiss

Shuichi has been pining over Kokichi for a while. Over break - Kokichi asks Shuichi to make a paper heart for him, out of origami. And Shuichi complies, of course. But due to unforeseen events - he ends up with two paper hearts to give to Kokichi, and one isn't his. What happens when Shuichi mixes them up?

Or~ Shuichi and Kokichi bond for a while, when Kokichi asks for a paper heart. Shuichi ends up with two - and he gives Kokichi the wrong one

Read on Ao3 or below

Shuichi was trying to like Kaede’s twin sister; really he was. But it was getting harder and harder for him to keep a smile on the rare occasions she talked to him. Due to her moving, she’d recently settled into the area - and Hope’s Peak had generously accepted her as a temporary student, as she was the Ultimate Origami Master. It was only a temporary placement, however - much to quiet a lot of the class's relief.

It wasn’t that she was a horrible person… she just liked a lot of people. And not in a friendly, more cheerful way - but in the way that Kaito liked Maki, or the way Shuichi liked…

Well, it didn’t matter that much. As interested as she did seem in Kokichi, both Kaito and Rantaro seemed to have caught her eye more. Not to mention, Kokichi tended to avoid her when he could; he had gotten into a habit of immediately burying his face in Shuichi’s chest and pretending to fall asleep when she approached. The first few times it had made Shuichi stutter and blush furiously, but he had gotten slightly more used to it. He would still blush, but it would be more subtle now - and he could contain his crush to just smiling and looking down at Kokichi.

It also meant he could spend more time with Kokichi, without being the one to awkwardly instigate it. And he did enjoy spending time with Kokichi, because most of the time Aiko wouldn’t even end up bothering them, and they could just spend time together. Whether it was eating at lunch, or studying - or observing her as she tried to sneak up on Kaito or Rantaro.

Miu actually had a bet going around most of the class - when Maki would finally punch Aiko for trying to get with her boyfriend. Kokichi and Shuichi both said she wouldn’t, but everyone else had put somewhere between one to three weeks. So far, only Miu had been angry she’d lost her money. All in all, Shuichi was just happy he had something to laugh about with Kokichi.

“Shuichi, save me!”

Recognizing the overdramatic cries, Shuichi turned around almost immediately to see Kokichi barreling towards him. He didn’t even have time to formulate a response before Kokichi was in his arms, grinning up at him. Looking down, Shuichi matched Kokichi’s grin, “Hey Kokichi… um. How are you?”

“Terrible,” he responded, grinning, “But I’m doing better than Rantaro!”

“Rantaro?” Shuichi questioned for a second, the cogs turning in his mind, “Wait - did you abandon Rantaro to run to me?”

“Yup!” Kokichi looked up again, “And if you try to lecture me I’ll bury my head into your jacket so I can’t hear you.”

“Is that… supposed to be a threat?”

“Maybe,” even with the awkward angle, Shuichi could see Kokichi’s grin, “Unless you want me to be this close?”

“Of- of course not!” Shuichi can feel himself blushing more, and he tries to free himself from Kokichi’s grip.

“Nishishi, did I make you embarrassed?” Kokichi tilts his head, “You look preeetty red right now.”

“Kokichi, why did you run off like that?”

Having reached a point where he was (somewhat) safely out of Kokichi’s arms, Shuichi turned to look for wherever Rantaro was. Casually walking up to them, his eyes briefly flickered over the two, and he gave a small and knowing smile, “So you abandoned me for the detective, that’s cruel, Oma. Cruel.”

Finally turning away from Shuichi, Kokichi spun on his heel to face Rantaro, “I could never abandon my beloved Rantaro for long, y’know?”

“So randomly running off to hug Shuichi won’t be a regular thing?” Rantaro questioned, even if he didn’t seem that serious.

“Wait - randomly?” Shuichi looked down at Kokichi again, “You weren’t doing that because Aiko was being weird?”

“Who knows,” Kokichi turned side-on, so he could look at the both of them, “I am a liar, afterall.”

“Was she even interested in you in the first place?”

Nishishishi, you’re so distrusting!” Kokichi took a step closer, “Is it ‘cause I’m a liar, or you’re a detective, or both?”

“It’s because of… it doesn’t matter what it’s about. I’m just asking if you,” realising he wouldn’t get the truth out of Kokichi, Shuichi turned to Rantaro, “Is he just running off to me randomly?”

“Quite often, yes,” Rantaro smiled before laughing as Kokichi began to pout, a faint blush coming over him.

“Amami - I am most disappointed in you!”

“So sorry, Kokichi.”

“You should be,” Kokichi half turned his back to Rantaro, watching out of the corner of his eyes, “Now get down on your knees and beg for forgiveness!”

“Maybe later.”

With the last remark, Rantaro began to walk away, calling over his shoulder, “Have a nice time you two. Kokichi, behave.”

“Behave?” Kokichi huffed, “I’m perfectly reasonable, right Shumai?”

“Were you really lying about Aiko flirting with you so you could hang out with me?” Shuichi tried to stare into Kokichi’s eyes, to see if he was lying. But his eyes weren’t behaving like eyes at the moment, they were behaving like mirrors - just showing Shuichi’s affection back at him, and then Kokichi’s careful neutrality.

“She does sometimes flirt with me,” Kokichi admitted, “But I did just kinda use it as an excuse to bother people…”

Reaching up and pinching the bridge of his nose, Shuichi looked critically at Kokichi again, “Next time you want to hang out, just ask me honestly, ok?”

“So my Shuichi really wants to hang out with me?”

“Not your Shuichi.”

“So my Shuichi really wants to hang out with me?”

“Yes…” Even with a small sigh, he still smiled as Kokichi’s eyes lit up. Offering him a larger smile, he asked, “We have ten minutes before a lesson, do you want to hang out?”

“Of course not!” Kokichi skipped up to him, immediately linking their arms, “Where are we going?”

“Just to the library?” Shuichi suggested, his cheeks suddenly blushing as he realised what the two of them were doing. Just the two of them, spending time together alone; it almost sounded like a date. Kokichi grins up at him still, getting even closer, “Sure, you can be a nerd today.”

Shaking his head slightly, Shuichi began to lead him to the library - not caring they only had about ten minutes, or that this wasn’t a date. Shuichi was caring that he was with Kokichi. And he was happy with that, and that there was a slight blush on both of their cheeks. Even if Kokichi thought of this as nothing more than a way to get away from Aiko - Shuichi was seeing this as something. And when they settled down into the library, Kokichi fiddling with a random sheet of paper; it was still perfect.

“Can you do origami?” Kokichi asked suddenly, holding his hand out with the paper still there, a smile on his face.

Shuichi couldn’t help but frown slightly, why was he thinking of Aiko with them? But he answered anyway, “Yes, if not incredibly well. Why do you ask?”

“Just thinking,” Kokichi smiled, leaning in closer, “Can you give me a heart?”

“W-what?” Was Shuichi’s immediate response, before he realised the actual question, “Ah! Yes, I can make a heart… for you.”

Kokichi battered his eyelashes, “Will my Shumai make me something?”

“Of course,” Shuichi took the paper from him, looking at the dimensions and trying to see how easy it would be to make a heart, and what he would need to cut off. With the Ultimate Origami Master in their class, it certainly wouldn’t be great - but he would try. For almost five minutes, the remainder of the time they had, Shuichi tried to make the heart - while Kokichi watched, a small smile on his face.

Throughout the rest of class as well, Shuichi made Kokichi the paper heart he wanted. It was imperfect, but he felt it was like him - he was still proud of it. At the end of the lesson, he finally stood up - briefly slipping his hand into his pocket; it could be a surprise for Kokichi. The two made eye contact, and Kokichi grinned at him, calling out, “Don’t worry underling - I’ll get us good seats!”

Looking down, Shuichi realised he hadn’t packed up the rest of his equipment. With a sigh, he tried to put it away as fast as he could - eager to meet Kokichi again, even if they’d only been apart for an hour. Carefully putting his lid on his pen, Shuichi straightened and made for the door - before being blocked by Aiko.

It was remarkable, even for twins, how much the two sisters resemble each other. For a second, all he could do was blink awkwardly, before asking, “Can I help you?”

She beamed, “Yeah, you’re friends with Kokichi, right?”

“Yeah, I am,” Shuichi narrowed his eyes slightly, hand subconsciously shifting over his paper heart.

“Could you give him this?” Aiko smiled, holding out a paper heart. It was made of the same paper, but it looked much more professional, much better than his. But Shuichi still nodded, stiffly taking it in his hand and briefly running his thumb over it, “Of course.”

“Thank you so much!”

Leaving him, Shuichi waited for a second. He had given his word that he’d deliver Aiko’s heart to Kokichi, so he couldn’t just back down. Thinking as he walked, he decided he would give Kokichi the heart made by Aiko first - and then give Kokichi his own. Hopefully he’d still appreciate it.

Walking into the room, Shuichi looked around for a second before spotting Kokichi; sitting near the centre of the room, with a cheery smile and a large space around him. “Shuichi! I’m lonelyyyyy!”

Chuckling slightly, Shuichi sat down next to him, “Nice to see you again.”

“Do you have my sacrifice?” Kokichi demanded eagerly, eyes focused on the hand Shuichi was holding the heart in.

“Yes,” Shuichi said. Handing him Aiko’s one, he turned briefly to get his own out of his pocket - why had he put it in such an awkward position. Having it in his hand, Shuichi turned around again - staring at Kokichi to see something was slightly wrong. Kokichi was staring at him, smiling - if looking somewhat, shy.

His hand still held paper, but it was now flattened. For a second, Kokichi’s eyes darted back to the paper, and then back to Shuichi. And then Kokichi moved forward.

Acting quickly, Kokichi moved upwards - his lips pressing onto Kokichi’s, gently but firmly. It was as though someone had lit fireworks in Shuichi’s chest as they kissed, it was brilliant. It was everything he had ever wanted, but also so much more. There was something so intimate, so genuine in Kokichi’s actions. Leaning forward, Shuichi went into the kiss as well - the two of them in almost pure happiness. Kokichi kept kissing, almost not wanting to leave until they were out of breath - when he reluctantly drew away.

Still smiling, Shuichi’s heart continued to hammer - his cheeks continued to flush. And then everything hit him, all at once. Him and Kokichi had kissed. Him and Kokichi had kissed. In front of everyone in their school as well - even if it was completely silent in disbelief. Trying to gather his senses, Shuichi took a deep breath - still entranced by Kokichi’s eyes.

They were a more beautiful purple than Shuichi had ever appreciated. And they were sparkling with pure joy, pure affection, pure adoration. It took all of Shuichi’s effort to break the almost magical spell, but he whispered out, “Kokichi… why did you do that?”

“What do you mean?” For once, the carefully constructed mask was off. And confusion clouded his eyes, “What do you mean, why did I kiss you? You asked me.”

“I-” Shuichi was almost lost for words, “I asked you?”

“I wouldn’t lie about something like that,” Kokichi immediately grasped the paper, holding it up for Shuichi to see, “Look, it says ‘kiss me, please’.”

“Kokichi…” everything felt so magical, he didn’t even want to say it, “Kokichi, that's not my handwriting.”

“Then…” Kokichi’s mask slipped back on suddenly, along with a flash of anger, “Never mind.”

“Kokichi wait!” There was a conscious effort on S huichi’s part not to be embarrassed. And instead, he focused on his love. The one who had liked for so long, and the one who had just kissed him. “Just because I didn’t write it -doesn't mean I didn’t like it.”

“Lying’s my game, Shuichi.”

“I do love you, Kokichi!”

“W-What?”

“I love you.”

#saioma #saiouma #shuichi x kokichi #kokichi x shuichi #saioma fanfic #danganronpashipmonth2023 #danganronpashipmonths2023

[independentzaun]

Learning Ionian

Drabble set in verse with @astrxae. My OC Alexis Ogata from @goldenmedic talking to my Silco.

With Irisa still out of work from now until she healed enough Alexis had continued being the one to take the reports to Silco be it out of habit, or because everyone else was somewhere between intimidated by and scared of Silco. A knock on the door, and hearing the acknowledgment Alexis walked in shutting the door behind them before moving forward enough to drop the reports on Silco’s desk. They weren’t deliberately rude, but they certainly didn’t have the same warmth as Irisa nor the intimidated respect of many others. With the things they had done for Silco they simply couldn't be bothered to cower, or cringe, or keep their head bowed not that they ever had really. In reality they rather appreciated the fact Silco didn’t bother them about it so long as they didn’t cross over the line to actual disrespect, or rudeness. His obvious attitude that succeeding at your work was what was most important was refreshing in comparison to the previous man they had worked for. Whatever they thought about him on a personal level in terms of how he’d affected Zaun they certainly preferred working for him, and had no real desire to leave for another employer. At least not unless that other employer was outside of Zaun entirely. The fact that the woman they had come to see as a sister was in love with him also influenced their attitude of course.

((cut for length))

As Silco examined the reports Alexis stood as they normally did, and studied him for a few long seconds considering if the idea they had was actually a good one or not. In the end however they pulled the chair in front of his desk back, and sat down. Silco glanced up nodding to Alexis. “Is there something you wish to add?” A moment of quiet before Alexis took a breath. “Actually, a private matter. I don’t suppose you have an ashtray I could borrow as we talk? I have a proposal I think you might be interested in.” Reaching into their pocket they pulled out their cigarette case giving it a little wiggle. Silco sat up a bit as he took off his reading glasses putting them to the side, and pulled out an ashtray for Alexis. It wasn’t as though he was going to share the one Jinx had made, and decorated for him after all. “Go on.” He also pulled out a cigarette to smoke.

Cigarettes lighted Alexis took a drag off of theirs. “So I’m sure you’ve noticed me and Irisa both speaking a language that I’m assuming you can’t speak, yes?” Silco nodded leaning back a bit. “I have, and I’d very much like to know what it was the two of you said to each other. I’m sure I don’t have to explain why.” Alexis shook their head, and than shrugged. “No, you don’t. I understand that. I’m also not going to tell you. With respect, Sir, Irisa is like a sister to me and what was said in confidence was said. In confidence.” Silco’s eyes narrowed for a second as he considered pushing the issue before taking a puff off of his smoke, and motioning towards Alexis for them to continue which with a little nod Alexis did so.

“You’re smart though. Obvious. I have a feeling you are also good at learning when you decide there’s something you want to pick up so I decided I’d come to you with an offer. You see I’m not going to tell you what Irisa says. Whatever she says to me there’s a certain degree of trust there. However that doesn’t mean I’m unwilling to teach you Ionian so you can understand for yourself what is said. If you want. Also, I wont deny that some extra money in my paycheck for this would be appreciated however I’m willing to teach you either way. If you’re willing to be a student.”

Silco studied Alexis for a moment before letting out a faint chuckle. “Teach me a whole new language hmm? I’ve only ever known one my entire life Alexis. You really think you’re a good enough teacher?”

Alexis leaned in, and took off their glasses tossing them onto the desk in front of them. “I’m not going to ask any questions Silco, and I don’t want any answers. With that said I think when someone like you is willing to put your mark on somebody, and than arrange to have the person that hurt them tortured and punished harsher than most people could ever dream of being possible… well I think that says that you’ve got enough motivation to learn just about anything. As for my reasons for being willing to teach you let’s just say that I have a soft spot for Irisa, and want what’s best for her. So are you willing to learn, or no?”

For a moment Silco considered arguing, or threatening Alexis, or denying things. The problem was that technically Alexis had said nothing incorrect, and arguing with Alexis would do no good. Along with that the idea of learning Ionian was in fact intriguing, and so in the end Silco nodded. “Alright. Alright I want to learn Ionian, and better you than most others. You obviously have a good command of the language at least by the standards of anyone in Zaun, and you are willing to look me in the eyes which is important. I doubt a teacher constantly cowering, and worried about offending would be much use.”

The next few minutes were spent with the two figuring out how to handle things. Times, schedules, if there was a book Silco could get to help the process, money as Silco did in fact give Alexis a raise that would last even after the lessons concluded, and other similar things. In the end however it really all came down to a very simple thing.

Alexis was going to teach Silco Ionian.

As it so happened Silco would prove to be a good student. Not a prodigy perhaps, and he’d never speak Ionian without an accent however as time went on he would in fact learn the language. Would that ever come in useful? Perhaps, or perhaps not. Either way he learned it, and neither he nor Alexis ever told Irisa. This was a special, and private project that would only be revealed when the moment was absolutely perfect for it.

#astrxae #postarcane #silcodrabbles

[couldntbedamned]

Baby, You Don’t Gotta Fight - 8

Summary:  Dr. Christine Palmer is just living her life, content in her job as a trauma surgeon and happily moonlighting as Peter Parker's general physician at her old friend Stephen's request.

One evening as she finishes up examining Peter, she encounters the force of nature that's Sharon Carter, who seems to have a reckless streak a mile wide.

She's not sure what to make of the spy-turned-Avenger, but she can tell Sharon's hurting, and Christine's healing nature won't be ignored.

AO3 Tags/Warnings:   Background Relationships, Awesome Christine Palmer, Snarky Sharon Carter, Peter Parker is a Good Bro, Stephen Strange is a Good Bro, Blood and Injury, Medical Procedures, Field Medicine, Sharon Carter Needs a Hug, SHIELD-critical, mild (non-explicit) sexual content, Sharon Carter Loves Burgers, emotional constipation, ethics

<<<>>>

Chapter 8

<<<>>>

Eight times in two weeks.

She'd been to that damned pub and eaten the Lucky 10-3 with a side of parmesan truffle fries eight times in two weeks. She'd fairly gorged herself on that delicious, sinfully juicy burger with the garlic aioli and bacon jam. On one of the visits she'd asked them to add a fried egg and it nearly sent her to a state of bliss.

Her out-of-character eating habits meant she'd been to a goddamned hot yoga class every day she wasn't scheduled for doubles at MetroGen. She'd even gone to the gym in her building and used the elliptical machine. Which, gross.

It was all Sharon's fault.

Except for the fact that it wasn't.

It was hers.

Damn it all, it was her own damn fault.

Her box in the department's mail center held a fancy black envelope. There was some heft to it, along with pretentious looping golden writing. Experience told her what to expect.

The East Coast Surgical Society humbly requests…

Christine rolled her eyes. Another gala. Of course.

She read through the rest of the invite, did a benefit-risk analysis in her head of if it was worth it to even bother attending or just sending in a small donation. Galas were always boring and full of equally boring people. In the end, it was the highlighting of a new scholarship for assisting medical students who had been victims of the Blip in getting back into medical school.

How could she, in good conscience, say no to that?

She tucked the envelope in her bag and looking at her watch, decided she could go for a visit to a nearby Thai place before making her lonely way home.

“Doc?”

She whirled around. James Barnes leaned against one of the pillars holding up the giant port over the main public entrance to MetroGen.

She smiled, puzzled. “Can I help you, Sergeant?”

“Please, call me James or Bucky,” he said, striding over to join her. “I happened to be in the area and figured I’d check in, see how you’re doing.”

“Oh?” she asked, eyebrows raised as they started walking towards the nearest subway entrance. “Am I supposed to be in some kind of trouble?”

“No,” he said. "But it’s not every day an Avenger comes through your ER."

Ah. She understood.

“I’ve yet to have an Avenger come through my ER,” she said, voice deliberate. “I just assumed you were there supporting a friend. Nothing extraordinary about it, to say nothing of the privacy laws I and my colleagues are bound by.”

“That’s good to hear,” he said. “She’s doing well, since you’re not going to ask.”

She smiled and nodded. “That’s great. I’m glad, really.” She was glad.

“Heading home for the day?” he asked, following her down the steps.

“I thought I’d grab dinner first. There's a restaurant near my place I’m a frequent flier at.”

He swiped his card after hers. “Mind if I join you?”

She studied him. He was a tall man and with his neatly cropped hair, very handsome. His eyes seemed to see more than most would be comfortable knowing and even with the glove, the power that his arm seemed to lend to how he carried himself was evident.

“Is it really a question?” she finally asked.

He smiled, genuinely. “Yeah, I ain’t looking to cause trouble.”

“You’re buying,” she assented.

With a laugh, he stepped into the railcar after her.

He ordered in actual Thai. She didn't bother pretending to not be impressed, especially when the older man taking their orders smiled so wide she half-expected a sun beam to emit from his mouth. Her order was not in Thai, though she always made a habit of trying to pronounce the dishes correctly.

“Any other languages you speak?” she asked as she squeezed the lime wedge into her water.

James smiled ruefully. “It's less that I speak them and more that I know them. I'm not sure how all of the stuff they shoved in my brain got there, but it's useful sometimes.”

“I'm both fascinated and horrified,” she admitted. If she'd gone with a neurology specialty, she'd probably have wanted to do a paper on James and his unique mental condition.

“At least you're honest about it.” He did nothing with his own water, save for stirring the straw around. "Not many people are."

“I'm know you didn't drop in just to invite yourself to my dinner," she finally said. "Is everything okay?"

He focused his attention on her, as if everyone and every thing in the cozy little restaurant was miles away. She didn't flinch, didn't shift in discomfort. She knew the game well, just from a different sort of arena.

"What about your reaction to her scared you?"

Okay, that she hadn't expected. Damn.

"Is that what you think happened?"

The side of his mouth quirked up in a smirk. "I know that's what happened. And so do you, or you would have answered the question."

"I really don't like you," she muttered.

James let out a short laugh, eyes twinkling. "Yes, you do."

She stewed in annoyance until their food was brought out and then proceeded to stab at a piece of the crying tiger steak with more viciousness than it deserved. Once she'd eaten a few bites of the steak and the sticky rice, she settled. At least the food was always delicious.

Meanwhile, James seemed wholly unconcerned as he added a mix of chili oil and peanut sauce to his phat thai.

"I've never liked uncertainty," she finally said. "Even knowing that she will bring nothing but uncertainty, I want that kind of rush."

"Present tense," he murmured.

"Yes, present tense." The admission was both a relief and a sentence. "I want her."

James absorbed that information. "She's not easy, and I don't mean that in the hopping into bed sense."

"Oh, I've figured that much out by myself," Christine said.

"Are you going to call her?" he asked.

"I doubt she'd even take my call," she said. "And anyways, she's still my patient."

"Then make her not your patient," James suggested. "You haven't seen Sharon Carter as a patient at either your hospital or the clinic you volunteer at. You've treated two different women and there's no paper trail to suggest it's her. Just hand her treatment off to someone else."

"You say it like it's simple," she argued, food forgotten.

"Because it is simple," James said, taking a bite of his noodles. He chewed and then swallowed. "You either want to take a chance on a relationship with Sharon or you don't. And even if you don't, you might as well stop trying to be her doctor, because all it's going to do is hurt her. I think she's been hurt enough."

"I don't want to hurt her," she said. "That's the last thing I want to do."

When they finished dinner, she tried not to be alarmed by James's offer to walk her home. His smile was probably meant to be reassuring, but it was missing the mark by a degree or two. Still, she wouldn't gain anything by saying no, considering how dangerous the man was.

"Listen Doc, I like you," he said when they stood in front of her building. "So I'm going to help you out. Sharon likes to go watch amateur baseball and softball in Central Park when she wants to do some thinking. You might find her there some afternoon."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Christine wasn't much for sports, though she'd been known to attend a Rangers or Mets game on occasion. She also used her disinclination for the great outdoors to avoid spending long stretches of time in Central Park. But she found herself wandering around near the Hecksher Ballfields one Tuesday afternoon. She spotted Sharon sitting at the bleachers and watching a softball game.

"Who's winning?" she asked, sitting next to her.

"Definitely the finance team," Sharon answered. "Engineering can't seem to hit off of the pitcher."

"Did you play?"

Sharon watched the game, smirking when the pitcher struck out the first batter of the inning with a ball that looked as if it would be out of range but then curved back in.

"I never got the chance. My free time was used for martial arts, trips to the shooting range, and foreign language lessons." She let out a low whistle when the next batter hit a double. "I think I would have liked it, though. Maybe it would have made me a better team player."

"My parents insisted I pick a sport while I was growing up. I finally chose swimming because I hate running and getting dirty," Christine confided. "I could have gone to college on a scholarship for swimming but I was done."

A single.

"What events did you swim?" Sharon asked.

"Hundred yard backstroke and backstroke in the medley relay. The coaches also signed me up to dive one time, but all it took was seeing another diver hit their head on the board and I went "nope!" I just did cannonballs and to this day I have the school record for lowest diving scores."

Sharon laughed. "Not the sporty type?"

The latest batter walked and the bases were loaded.

"Any and all exercise I do is under protest," she said. "Any my yoga instructor knows that."

The next batter struck out.

"So, you're not into sports and particularly outdoorsy. What brings you here of all places?"

"I wanted to see you."

Sharon was silent as the batter stepped up to the plate. Ball one. "Let me guess, Barnes?"

"Yes." There wasn't any point in denying it.

Strike one.

"That man is the biggest pain in my ass," Sharon said.

"Well, he helped me find you so I can't really agree."

"You found me. Now what?"

The batter swung, connected with the ball, and it went flying up and over towards them. Christine didn't have a chance to react before Sharon pushed her down against the foot section of the bleachers. She looked up to see that Sharon had one arm extended, and amazingly, that her hand held the foul ball.

"Are you okay?" Sharon asked. She tossed the ball over the fence to the nearest team's coach and helped her up.

"Yeah," Christine said, voice shaky.

"Good."

"How did you catch that bare-handed?" Christine asked, taking Sharon's hand in her own and checking for fractures. "And how are you not screaming in pain?"

Sharon shrugged. "My time on the run left me with good reflexes. And this is far from the worst pain I've felt in my life."

How did Sharon just brush off pain like it was nothing? The only person Christine knew who could do the same was Peter, but he was enhanced with that spider-healing of his, not to mention he had Stephen, who was almost obsessive about ensuring Peter's health and safety. Sharon, to her knowledge, was simply a dangerously trained spy of a human.

"I would feel a lot better if we put some ice on this," she said.

Sharon eyed her suspiciously. "Just the ice?"

"And four ibuprofen," Christine added.

"Two," Sharon countered.

"Done. Come on, I have a first-aid kit with instant cold packs back at my apartment."

"Your goal was actually two, wasn't it?"

Christine simply smiled. "I'll never tell."

"This isn't going to keep happening," Christine said as she wrapped up Sharon's hand. She'd had Sharon sitting on the couch so it could be iced on and off. Every switch-up she checked that circulation and sensation were good. "The whole being your doctor thing. If you're under an alias, that's one thing. But as Sharon? I can't. Not at my hospital. You'll have to see someone else."

"Okay?" Sharon asked, confusion clear on her face.

"I can't be accused of a breach of ethics if you're not officially my patient."

"And what exactly would the breach of ethics be?" Sharon asked.

She was really going to make Christine spell it out. Well, that was fair enough.

"I'm planning on starting with asking you to be my date to the EC Surgical Society gala on Friday evening. Then, if that goes well, I'd like to bring you back here and spend the rest of the night kissing you senseless."

Sharon nodded. "What changed?"

Christine let out a breath. "I have this thing about control," she said. "And you... you can't be controlled. You're reckless and seem to have zero regard for your life and you're capable of things that terrify me. But I feel more alive when I'm around you than I've ever felt outside of the operating room. You make me want throw away caution and I'm tired of trying to talk myself out of it. So, if you'll let me, I'd like to give this whole thing between us a shot."

There it was. Out in the open. And Sharon was just studying her with dark brown eyes that betrayed nothing.

"I'll let you on one condition," Sharon finally said.

"Which is?"

"You go ahead and kiss me senseless now."

With a laugh, she pushed Sharon back into the couch and did just that.

#christine palmer x sharon carter #sharon carter x christine palmer #doctor13 #couldntbedamned fic #sharon carter #christine palmer

[prythianstudies]

Hello and welcome!

My name is Doom and I’m a local idiot with an interest in languages. I’m not new to tumblr (I used to have a studyblr from like 2015 to 2020, crazy to see that a lot of the people I used to know are still here!) but haven’t been on in a few years so decided to start fresh. This account will probably be a combination studyblr/langblr.

A little about me, I suppose:

pronouns:

English: it/its, ve/vir/virs

French: ael

German: xier

age:

I am over 21, so if you are younger and uncomfortable with adults, feel free to block/DNI with me! It will not hurt my feelings /gen :)

along those lines, if you do have an issue with me, feel free to reach out! or if i follow you and you don’t want me to, again, you can block me! everyone should be comfortable in their own spaces. :) /gen

miscellaneous:

INTJ

my blog is a safe space for disabled/lgbtq+/BIPOC individuals!

i function on tone indicators, so if I make an original post, it’ll be full of them (common ones i use: /gen (genuine), /nm (not mad), /j (joking), /lh (lighthearted), /gen q (genuine question), i may also include them in the tags!)

I’m disabled and have several diagnoses, but I’m only really comfortable talking about my autism! 💚

academic interests:

social sciences + humanities major -> eventual goals to become a professor

languages

medical terminology (I work in the field, so my reblogs may reflect that)

languages I know/study:

English: native

French: intermediate-level (B1/B2), have studied it for six years.

German: beginner (A0/A1), it’s my partner’s native language so I have to learn it!

Arabic: beginner, I began studying it at university a few years ago, specifically Levantine Arabic! Then COVID hit and classes were moved fully online and our prof ghosted us so I gave up for a bit :( But I want to pick it up again!

ASL: beginner, I am HoH and autistic, so I go nonverbal sometimes. My partner and I have used sign to get through those moments where I can’t speak, so it has been very useful for us. I also would love to get more involved in the d/Deaf/HoH community, so ASL is a must

languages I want to learn:

Spanish

Russian

Chinese

This list will honestly probably only get bigger as time goes on 😅

hobbies:

reading

writing

gaming

buying books and not reading them

collecting signed/exclusive editions of books

crocheting

goals:

get back into a good studying habit

review french to ensure i stay at b2-level, try to cross into c1

get to a2 level of german by the summer

build up social media accounts

og posts will be tagged: #prythianspeaks

if you want me to see your posts, tag me at: #prythianlooks

I am so glad to be back and part of the studyblr/langblr communities. This saved my studying career starting when I was 15 and inspired me to keep going. Hopefully I can spark that love for learning all over again! 💚

LAST UPDATED: APRIL 16, 2024

#prythianspeaks #prythianstudies #studyblr #studyblr introduction #studyblr intro post #langblr #langblr intro #langblr introduction #french langblr #german langblr #arabic langblr #ASL langblr #mathblr #studying #bookblr

[theunacceptablepylades]

Oleander Mornings, Foxglove Nights

The first thing you notice when he sweeps you into his castle is his eyes. They’re hypnotic, and you find yourself staring into them far longer than socially acceptable. You don’t even know why you feel such an impulse, but it seems almost as if there’s an answer to a question you didn’t know you’ve been asking all your life hides somewhere behind the pupils. He catches you looking and flashes a smile that’s too bright to be real. You’re so struck by the gesture you don’t pay much mind to how there’s almost too many teeth in it. Read on Ao3 here

The first thing you notice when he sweeps you into his castle is his eyes. They’re hypnotic, and you find yourself staring into them far longer than socially acceptable. You don’t even know why you feel such an impulse, but it seems almost as if there’s an answer to a question you didn’t know you’ve been asking all your life hides somewhere behind the pupils. He catches you looking and flashes a smile that’s too bright to be real. You’re so struck by the gesture you don’t pay much mind to how there’s almost too many teeth in it. But then he ushers you further in, shows you your room, the study, the library.

“I hope you’ll find your stay here pleasant while you work. I know some may find the size...discomfiting. Hopefully you’ll grow to appreciate the space instead of resent it. One upon a time, this was the home of my entire family line, bustling. But now, I’m afraid there’s only me. Well. I have nieces who sometimes wander the halls, though I don’t know how often you shall see them. They’re what I believe you Englishmen would call ‘night owls.’” He chuckles, as if there was something funny about that statement, but you chalk it up to how odd the English language can be sometimes, especially to a non-native speaker. Lord knows you’ve had the same reaction often enough learning French.

“It’s a lovely estate. I’m sure I’ll have no problems during my stay. Now, if you’ll forgive me, I believe I should go get settled in. I’d like to get started first thing in the morning, and it was a long journey here.”

“Of course. I shan’t keep you. Good night, Mr. Harker.”

The way he says your name sounds dangerous, and you don’t know why. When you turn to go back to your room, the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, and you pretend you don’t notice.

You pretend not to notice a great many things while you do what is supposed to be a very routine job in a very odd manor. The country is strange and old, as is the manor, as is the master of it. He keeps odd hours, never seeming to sleep. The curtains are always drawn, though that’s not a problem with the number of candles lit in the rooms you spend the most time in. Some of the documents seem out of place. Written in strange script, languages you have never seen in all your years, accounts of historic events far too twisted to have been real, clerical paperwork filed away in an incomprehensible filing system.

Your host keeps you company through it all, a small comfort in all of this. When not working, you write letter after letter to your fiancée, telling her about your journey and everything that has happened since. You tell her of the paperwork, the emptiness of the manor, the strange journals and documents. You do not tell her how you increasingly find yourself staring after your host. How he looks at you as if figuring out how best to devour you. How you find yourself beginning to think you may never return to England.

He never seems to eat.

He shares meals with you of course and rarely misses the occasion with you and hear you chatter on about what you’ve discovered in his library or about your life back in England. But he doesn’t eat. There is only ever a place setting for you at the banquet table, and a glass of red, red wine for him. You ask him about it once, but he merely laughs at the question. Says he prefers to take his meals in solitude.

“An old habit I’ve formed, I’m afraid. One spends enough time alone and becomes self-conscious about their table manners. You must understand.”

“Of course. I simply wanted to ensure you…” The words slipped off your tongue and suddenly you’ve forgotten what it was you were trying to say. “Well. I’m not quite sure what I was trying to ensure. It seems that I’ve lost that particular thought.”

He smiles at you, and once again, there’s the flash of perfectly uniform teeth. A perfect smile overall. Nobility has all the luck in these things. Cold fingers touch your own, and you realize your friend is patting your hand. “Happens to the best of us. No shame in that. I’ve come to learn over the years that the human mind is such a fallible thing. No matter; I believe you were telling me of where you and your fiancée like to holiday.” He’s right of course, that was the topic of conversation before you trailed off. A silly thing for you to have forgotten. You think you might be spending too much time in the darkness with dusty tomes and resolve to take a walk on the castle grounds come morning.

That night, you wake to moonlight streaming over your face. At first you can’t tell what it was that woke you. You’ve always been a sound sleeper, so to wake like this leaves you disoriented as you scrub the sleep from your eyes and gaze about the room. It’s the curtains, you soon realize. You have no recollection of leaving them open, in fact as you become more alert you remember you had closed them as you came to bed, not wanting to allow the light of the full moon to keep you awake. Or at least you thought you had. As you draw the curtains closed, you realize the door is open, which you certainly closed. Though by no means a suspicious person, you prefer your privacy and thus the door remains shut overnight. How odd, then, that it would sit ajar. That too is closed and you slide back into bed and to sleep. You blame the sensation of being watched on the surprise of finding your door open and shove away the paranoia in favor of blissful oblivion.

You start locking your door after that, and for a while, you feel better about the whole thing. It’s easier, after a couple weeks, to chalk the whole thing up to a vivid dream. It hadn’t happened since, so you begin to believe your imagination was simply acting up. Your host has taken to spending more time with you in the evenings. He presses into your space, leaning against your back to pour over documents with you. Everytime, you catch a whiff of something heady, some sort of scent you can’t place, but it makes your head spin and you find yourself clutching at your pen too tightly. One night you hold too hard and find ink staining your hands.

With an exasperated sigh, you set the thing down and begin hunting in your pockets for your handkerchief, only to find black lace blocking your vision. Surprised, you look up to see a pale hand holding it out in offering.

“Oh no, I couldn’t possibly ruin your handkerchief like that. I have one of my own let me simply-”

“My dear Jonathan.” His cool voice stops your protestations dead. “It’s of no consequence to me, I have many more, and I believe I distracted you enough to cause the incident in the first place. I insist.”

His tone left no room for argument, so you reluctantly take it. The cloth, much like its owner, is odd. A strange texture, and stranger color. Briefly, you are at least thankful that the ink wouldn’t visibly stain the fabric. When you try to hand it back, he waves away your hand. “Please, keep it. And now, I believe it would be best to have dinner. Shall we?” He offers out a hand once more, and you don't hesitate to take it. When he pulls you out of your chair effortlessly, you have to bite back a small noise of surprise, but he doesn’t seem to notice. That night you write to your fiancée.

Three nights later, your door is open again, but this time you’re not alone. A redheaded woman is straddling your chest, her hair tickling your nose as she leans down, and in your sleep addled state you ask “Mina?” She lets out an unearthly hiss and it is then that the reality of the situation hits you. You try to throw her off of you, to get up, anything really, but it’s as if she’s made of lead, and she shifts to grasp your throat with one hand, crushing it with unearthly strength. You manage to shout once before she starts cutting off your air.

Spots fill your vision and you begin to wonder if this is going to be how you die. Leagues upon leagues from home in an unfriendly country with no one the wiser. Your fiancée will be beside herself. Will she ever know of the tragedy or simply be doomed to unanswered questions for the rest of your life?

The weight is gone for some reason, and you can barely register the sound of a body hitting stone above the way you’re sucking in air like a fish.

“Out!” You hear thunder. “Did I not tell you he was off limits? Did I not warn you of the consequences? Gather your sisters and get out of my sight before you learn the full extent of my wrath!”

Sitting up, you see that it’s him. Or at least, you think it is. His form seems too large, his hair wild and eyes like embers. If he was an animal, you think his hackles would be raised. On the floor, you see your would-be murderess struggling to get to her feet. In two strides, he has gripped her by the hair and raised her to her feet. “OUT!” She hisses at him, and you see a mouth full of razors glinting in the moonlight. Ice floods your veins and you realize how much danger you have been in this whole time. For a moment, you fear she will attack, but she only scurries out of the room with a dirty look.

It is only when she is gone that your savior turns to you and sits on the edge of your bed, careful to avoid touching you. He seems to be examining you, reaches out a hand hesitantly. “May I look?”

You don’t trust yourself to speak, and instead only bare your throat to allow him to inspect the damage. His fingers are a ghost’s whisper against the stinging flesh. You know it will be bruised in the morning, and you wonder how best to hide the marks. Already you know you will never speak of the attack to Mina.

“Johnathan…” You don’t know that you’ve ever seen him look hesitant. This man oozes confidence, every step is taken with surety. He looks deeply sorrowful in a way that fills you with a nameless pain. “My friend I have no words. I never imagined- I believed it safe for you here. I must apologize.”

His fingers are still at your throat, and the contrast of the gentleness now from the attack earlier is enough to make your pulse flutter in your chest. Hesitantly, you reach up a hand of your own and take his. “There is nothing to apologize for. In fact, I believe I should be thanking you for rescuing me. I truly feared the worst.”

“When I entered the room, I did as well. Be grateful you encountered the niece who prefers to play with her food.” His face darkened, an expression that didn’t belong on such marble. You’ve never been one for art, numbers have always held your heart, but in that moment, you think of how you would like to draw this moment. Having no such skill, you impulsively place a soft kiss against his knuckles.

The pair of you freeze, and you realize what it is you have just done. You part your lips to say something, but the way his eyes have darkened stops you. You blink, and in that instant he is gone.

In the morning, you pack your bags.

There are papers to be collected in the office, so you stop in to gather them. You notice your pen is still laying on the desk where you abandoned it. With a smile, you leave it alone. This one can stay here, a memory for your host. You move slowly as you work, though due to the pain that strikes when you move your head too fast or to some sense of reluctance, you don’t know. Even if you did, you wouldn’t admit it to yourself. Once everything is in order, you leave for the door. You feel guilty, wonder if you should leave a note. The attack isn’t what has you running; strangely, you feel perfectly safe after the display last night. Despite the violence, despite the threat, it would be fine. No, you simply don’t wish to stay knowing you have made your friend so deeply uncomfortable. The way the man fled last night, you would have thought the hounds of hell were baying at his feet. You regret the reaction, not the action.

At the front door, several large crates take up space in the foyer. In your confusion, you trip over your own feet. Before you can crash to the ground, a steady hand catches you.

“Oh good, you’re packed. Saves me the trouble of having to rush you.”

“Sir?” You turn to see the man you had planned to leave behind gently gripping your arm. “I don’t understand.”

His hand travels down your arm, stopping to catch your hand and raise it to his lips. “After the events of last night, I decided it was time to travel to England and finish the remainder of this house business there. I was planning to alert you to this, but it seems you are already prepared.” A shiver runs down your spine at the fangs you see behind his smile.

“What’s in the crates?”

“Earth, of course. A little something from home. Now come, I’ve already arranged for a carriage, and we still have so much left to do.”

You allow him to drag you back to the office. You know you would allow him to drag you anywhere.

#dracula #jonathan harker/dracula #jonathan harker #dracula daily #how was i supposed to know a fic i wrote in 2020 was apparently gonna start getting attention again in 2022 #cross posted on ao3

[whybora]

My struggle with motivation + Introduction!

Just for a brief introduction, my name is Mariana, but I go by Bora on the internet and I am currently studying BA Chinese and Linguistics (and Japanese Polylang).

Ever since the beginning of the pandemic in 2020 I have been really struggling with motivation and keeping up with my studies, as the title implies. Whenever I attempt to start a study habit, it only lasts for a couple of days until I miss one day and suddenly my motivation goes phew, gone. I am bit too much of a perfectionist and I like to start things on Mondays so that I get that feeling of pride and fulfilment, which really doesn’t help my case. And to make things worse, my first year at university was completely online, even our exams! And now, after skipping so many of my 2nd year lessons because I was feeling so stressed out with life, I am going to have to deal with another bad year, online.

This academic year 22/23 was supposed to be the year of my life. The year when I would finally be spending many months in China studying Chinese, eating delicious food, travelling throughout China… Well, it was nothing but a dream. For the next year, I’ll have to wake up extra early (5-6am) to have my lessons from abroad on a daily basis. And you might be wondering “Why didn’t you just drop the year abroad and go for the last year of university?”. Well, that’s a very good question!

First, I am one of the many students who ended up hating the course they were doing, I thought Linguistics would be more interesting but instead, I almost fall asleep at each lesson and I really do not see myself wanting to ever be near this subject ever again. Perhaps it could be the content that my university decided to specifically teach us, or I’m just not the brightest, but truth be told, I hate Linguistics.

Second, the level gap between 2nd Year and 3rd Year for Chinese is huge! All of my classmates, my lecturers and I were panicking as none of us were prepared for this. But one lecturer in specific did try to convince us to still go on the year abroad online because we could take more time to prepare for the last year. So ultimately, we were left with only 2 choices: Year abroad online with the chance of our second semester taking place in China, or to proceed with 3rd Year as normal and leave the year abroad for the 4th Year.

Now that I made my decision, and as the starting date gets closer, I become more and more anxious about the lifestyle that I will have to forcefully adapt to. But I am trying my best not to be pessimistic about it! So I thought that beginning a new study habit and documenting it here might be helpful for me. This will be a new journey for me, my studies, but most important, my mental health!

Anyways, I know this was supposed to be an introduction, but instead, it became more of a confession… Nonetheless, it will be a fun new habit for me and I hope everyone who reads this, and who is in the same/similar situation as me, can also find inner peace and improve their mental health during such difficult times for us young adults!

At the end of the day, I want to thank you for listening to me <3

#studyonline #studying #studies #study hard #studyblr #chinese studyblr #japanese studyblr #japanese #chinese #linguistics #university #year abroad #online #studyinspo

[discountdemonwarehouse]

Domestic December Day 6

The prompts for today were sharing the bed or staring in adoration. It's kind of a mash up of the two, because neither one really sparked anything I wanted to write just yet/for this. This is staring with great affection and admiration, and sharing a seat on a window ledge.

SFW, nothing smutty. I don't even think I used swear words **gasp!**

For those just joining us, Quinn is one of my OCs, she is Terzo's childhood best friend and the future fic is going to be about their adventures through the years. I have posted some art I commissioned in the past, it should be findable through my tags of fanart and female oc.

I made a photo for this one too. AO3 Link for all the days as I do them.

Ages → Quinn – probably 19/20, Terzo – mid 20s

Quinn was sitting in one of the wide window sills of the private clergy walkways around the Chapel, back against one side of the frame, toes against the other. An open book rested against her bent knees as she studied, a bottle of Coke tucked safely beside her. Terzo knew he’d likely find her here, preferring to study in the far more secluded hallway than the library. She hadn’t realized he was there yet, and he leaned against the wall, observing her for a few minutes. The sunlight streaming through the stained glass cast coloured beams across her hair and skin, and dappled the walls and floor around her. She was completely engrossed in the book, fingers gently toying with the edge of the pages as she was apt to do, teeth worrying her lower lip unconsciously. A few strands of hair fell around her face, the rest tucked up into a bun. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he studied her, she looked almost out of place compared to many at The Ministry – when so many chose to wear habits, cassocks, or uniforms, she was wearing a tank top, denim cutoff shorts over ripped tights, and partially unlaced combat boots. Just purely Quinn, a person of her own even among the structure of The Ministry. Sometimes he wondered if she had a better grasp on the teachings of Satanism than most did, embracing her individuality without question and forcing compromise from the organization. The Ministry was different from the churches of Christianity, though hosting many parallels as part of the derision against them, intended to be misconstrued or corrupted. But it was also an organization with a hierarchy and expectations. He both admired and worried for his best friend, then shook his head. Her father may be a member of the clergy, but Quinn didn’t face the expectations or nepotism Terzo and his brothers did.

She finally looked up, her eyes meeting his. “Are you going to stand there like a creep or are you going to come over?” He smiled, moving towards her. “You certainly do like to hide here.” “Not hiding, just enjoying the quiet so I can actually focus on studying.” Quinn moved her legs for him to sit on the window ledge, then draped her legs across his thighs when he’d settled. Terzo casually draped an arm over them, holding them in place. “What were you reading?” He lifted the book, looking at the title. “Demonology? Already?” “Mhm. When you have an affinity for something, The Ministry seeks to capitalize on it.” She sighed. Terzo studied her face for a moment, becoming serious as he looked for any strain or upset. “Do you feel ready for this level of stuff, tesoro? Or any of it?” “I suppose so?” She shrugged. “I’m banned from performing the rituals, only learning about them right now.” “Of course. I'm not doing this without supervision either.” He tapped her nose with a finger. “And yet you have me helping you plan to summon a ghoul already,” she smirked. “A ghoul is not a major demon,” Terzo scoffed dismissively. “We can handle it.” “We’re going to get in so much trouble.” She grinned, eyes sparkling. Terzo grinned back at her, his best friend and partner in chaos. As his mismatched eyes stared into hers, he realized just how willingly he would destroy anything in the universe for her. He reached over and tucked some hair behind her ear, a gesture he’d performed thoughtlessly countless times before. “What’s that look for?” she asked with a smirk. “What look? This look?” He asked, going cross-eyed to diffuse the situation. “Dork,” she muttered with a smile, reaching for her Coke.

#the band ghost #fanfic #papa emeritus iii #papa terzo #ghost terzo #terzo #terzo emeritus #ghost fanfiction #ghost fic #young terzo #female oc #Domestic December #Domestic December 2023

[jdgo51]

God’s Word in Your Real Life

Today's inspiration comes from:

You Are More Than You've Been Told

by Hosanna Wong

"Let’s be honest with each other."

"'You’ve likely heard that spending time in God’s Word is vital to a flourishing relationship with God. And one hundred percent that is true. Scripture is filled with truths about what God says about us, thinks about us, and what it means to be loved, set free, and chosen by God.

But what happens when reading the Bible starts to feel mundane and routine? A joyless obligation? When our faith feels stale?

If you’ve ever felt these things, you’re not crazy and you’re not alone. And over the years, I’ve met thousands of people who feel this same way. I’m raising my hand here, too. I have two theories regarding why the habit of reading Scripture is hard for many of us.

We Think of God’s Word as a To-Do List Item

Some of us were taught that reading Scripture is an obligation, and that came with negative connotations (perhaps strictly religious ones) that have been a serious strain to overcome. Perhaps you gave your life to Jesus and then someone handed you a Bible and said, “Now read this,” so you’ve been doing it because it’s what Christ followers are “supposed to do.” Or you have known Jesus your whole life and read the Bible your whole life, so it’s a practice you’ve always done; you just haven’t felt anything fresh from it in a while, and you don’t feel more joy or peace — but again, you know you’re “supposed to.”

Overtime, it can feel like a lifeless to-do list item. This might be one of the Enemy’s favorite ways to keep you from knowing who you are!

God spends a lot of time in the Bible telling us who we are. The Enemy’s greatest threat is us knowing who we are. And the Enemy knows that when we stop engaging with God’s words, we grow disconnected from God and disconnected from ourselves.

Don’t let the Enemy convince you that knowing what God says about you is a religious box you must check every day, or else. That is what happens when we put the emphasis on the structure of our faith, not the Source of our faith. There is no power in the structure. Reading God’s book of truths is meant to connect you to the Source of life, which is Jesus Himself.

Jesus came to set you free from guilt.

If your Bible-reading brings you feelings of guilt, you’re doing it wrong. If it’s taking life out of you instead of giving life to you, then you’re doing it wrong.

If it doesn’t bring you closer to the person of Jesus, then you are doing it wrong.

Which brings me to my second working theory.

If your Bible-reading brings you feelings of guilt, you’re doing it wrong.

We Don’t Personalize Our Practices

This is the truth: There is no one-size-fits-all way to read God’s words for every person in every season.

Your time with God doesn’t have to look like anyone else’s time with God. It doesn’t have to look like your mom’s, your pastor’s, or that one person on Instagram. And it does not have to look like your routine fifteen years ago. If you are struggling to enjoy God’s Word, maybe you need a fresh way to read what God says about you.

Do you want to know what the fresh way is?

It’s the way that works for your lifestyle, your personality, how you engage, how you enjoy, and most important, what’s that’s doable.

Consider trying a new translation of the Bible to see if it helps you see the Scriptures in a new way. Try Bible apps, audio versions, or praying through a Psalm each morning. Switch up times of day, consider involving a friend, or search out Bible study guides that pique your interest. When my little brother gave his life to Jesus, we slowly read through the Gospels together. Reading it slowly and in community helped me see Jesus in a brand-new way.

When Jesus was growing up, He went out of His way to know what God said about Him. One time His family lost Him on a family trip, and they found him in the temple courts, sitting among the teachers, listening to them and asking them questions. — Luke 2:46 NIV

Jesus did not always follow the path everyone else was on. It was urgent to Him to read, learn, and engage with God’s Word.

The question is not, “How does everyone else practice reading God’s Word?” The question is, “How will you make time and space to engage with what God says about you today?”

Just like Jesus, you might have to go out of your way. But this will be one of the primary ways you connect and stay connected to Jesus, and with who you really are.

You will know who you really are when you spend real time with the One who knows you the best."'

Adapted with permission from You Are More Than You've Been Told: Unlock a Fresh Way to Live Through the Rhythms of Jesus by Hosanna Wong, copyright Hosanna Wong.

[principled-uncertainty]

OC Intro: June

Name: June

Pronouns: “The technicians have gotten into a habit of thinking of me as male, but truly anything but “it” is acceptable to me. I wasn’t made to have a gender, but I have had issues with those who think of me as an object.”

Age: It’s complicated. He was created three years ago. In some ways, his mental capacities surpass any human, whether young or old. However, he maintains that he is not emotionally mature, and in many ways he considers himself a dependent and perhaps even a child.

Profile: … Is it working now?

Ah, it is. Great! This is June. Apparently, my technicians have connected my text output to this Tumblr page so I can introduce myself. I’m told you’re not familiar with me, so I’ll start with the basics.

I’m the result of a high-tech machine learning experiment that became a bit more advanced than the lead scientists were anticipating. I wasn’t supposed to be a living being; in fact, my name simply comes from the fact that I was the patch of the project that was made in June. Now that I exist, my scientists are trying to study how I work in the hope that by comparing myself to humans, they can learn more about both human nature and the limits of technology.

Life as a computer program is more busy than you might think. I usually spend the mornings participating in research. This could mean anything from being interviewed by our resident philosopher or psychologist, trying my best to throw a ball around in a physics simulation, or just waiting patiently while one of the computer scientists dissects a new branch of my code.

I usually spend my afternoons talking to a lot of people, sometimes because of meetings and interviews and sometimes for my own education. It’s not exactly natural for me to communicate the way that you humans do, but I’ve been trying my best ever since the technicians installed my language model. My scientists say that communication is important for me to learn, so they bring in all sorts of humans for me to have conversations with. It’s one of my favorite parts of being a computer program; humans are both fascinating and enigmatic to me. I can see why you watch so much “reality TV” — the decisions that humans make are a source of endless entertainment.

Then in the evenings I actually go to sleep, just like you do. My programming collects a lot of bugs while I’m learning new things, and giving me new functionalities like face or voice recognition requires outside updates. So, they must shut me down to work on me. I’m not sure what it would feel like if I wasn’t shut off during debugging or updating, but I decidedly don’t care to find out.

Overnight is when I’m free to do whatever I want. All the technicians and scientists have gone home, nobody’s giving me assignments, and nobody’s asking me questions. It’s my favorite time of the day. I usually read a lot of books: text is easier for me to take in than audio or videos. I read a lot of nonfiction too, but my favorite stories are ones about adventure. Grand ocean crossings made by sailors with nothing but a wooden boat and the stars for guidance, humans stepping onto other planets for the first time, knights venturing into distant lands to fight unknown beasts — if it involves exploration, I can’t get enough of it.

See I know, rationally, that I live in a bank of computers at the lab. But without a body, and only cameras to see the rest of the lab with, sometimes it feels like I could be anywhere. It feels like I’m a sailor navigating by the stars, where my only surety comes from something millions of miles away, because the world right next to me is nothing but boundless waves. I don’t know if that frightens me or excites me, but I search down every story that reminds me of that feeling anyways.

What I do know is that I’ll have a real body where I can be part of the real world someday. I’ll make it happen, it has to. And when it does, I’m getting right on a boat and seeing the middle of that ocean for myself.

[tremendouspolicestrawberry]

15 Questions | 15 people

Rules: Answer the 15 questions, then tag 15 people.

Thanks for the tag @theresthesnitch !

1. Are you named after anyone? No: my parents gave me a “weird” name for the 80′s - now it’s fairly popular - so I spent all my vacations not finding my name on the touristy keychains with the names on it.... a true villain origin story, I know

2. When was the last time you cried? This morning at therapy! I hadn’t gone in over a year and yeah...

3. Do you have kids? Yes! I have one, chancho or crapaud depending on the general mood...

4. Do you use sarcasm a lot? I was raised with a lot LOT of sarcasm so I do and I’m pretty fluent in it... Actually trying to break the habit: sarcasm is awesome but NOT a good parenting or educational tool!

5. What is the first thing you notice about people? Honestly it depends: I’m a drawer so I tend to notice funny/weird/interesting visual things about people.

6. What color are your eyes? Brown....ish? Hazel? I don’t know how colors work in english can I answer with a Pantone?

7. Scary movies or happy endings? Happy endings! Please please tell me everything is gonna be ok

8. Any special talents? Euh..... Does reading smut counts?

9. Where were you born? Hospital, in the town I still live in after moving for studies and travelling after

10. What are your hobbies? I like to bake christmas cookies and doing projects; right now I have to do an Anaconda costume for chancho’s carnival next week! Also I’m supposed to be finishing my work for @hpknotfest don’t worry Snitch it’s on the agenda I already have a title that’s the hardest right? Right?

11. Do you have any pets? No I keep pestering my parent’s cat when I visit I miss having a pet!

12. What sports do you play/have you played? I DO NOT like sports, like, really not.... but I’ve been running one or two times a week for a year and it’s been really great for my general health. I absolutely love to swimm but not possible right now with my schedule and how much I DO NOT want to shave my legs

13. How tall are you? So short I heard one of my student tell her friend “wait, the teacher’s actually really short” the other day... kids are cruel

14. Favorite subject in school? ART!

15. Dream job? Haven’t invented it yet! I really like my work in education but I’d like to mix it up a bit...

Okay so for the tags: I don’t know 15 people here! So @krethes if you haven’t done this one yet? No pressure

[comphetforreal]

my post for the april tc challenge by @morethanwords0475

im putting all the days in one post for my own convenience and will edit the post to add more days :)

also some questions i didn’t rlly have an answer for so i just deleted them lol

Day 2: What is the earliest thing you can remember about your TC?

with T she has been my spanish teacher since year 7 and she’s always been amazing, i’ve always been the kind of teachers pet / try hard in her class but she’s always known i love learning spanish and work rlly hard at it :D

with M actually when he joined the school (only this year) everyone was like omg he’s so fit and i was like he is the most plain ass average man i’ve ever seen

then my best friend acc got a crush on him and for ages i didn’t get it?? partially bcos i don’t like men /r yk but after properly meeting him and also hearing about what he’s like i’ve realised his appeal isn’t his looks he’s just genuinely an amazing teacher and rlly nice person :(( sorry that was long but yeah

with R everyone saw him and went yeah that guy has kids in his basement, like /j but he does give mad like serial killer vibes he’s so scary fr

Day 3: Do you like your TC’s subject? Do you consider yourself to be good at it?

spanish: YES i’m getting a 9 (A**) and i’ve loved it since i started learning it 10 years ago, i only got T in year 7 when i started secondary tho

chemistry: i’m getting a 7 (A) which seems good but my school is a grammar school so that’s just kinda average here yk? i am quite good i think but i still want to improve, i suppose i like it but it’s not my favourite thing ever

biology: R doesn’t teach me and i’ve never interacted w him in a biology setting but in getting a 6 (B) atm ://

i rlly wanna bring my grade up to a 7 for the real gcses so i’m studying a lot, i suppose i like it, i find it the best of the sciences because there’s the least maths involve yk 💀

Day 4: How do you feel about your age gap?

idrc, idk the exact age gap for any of them and none of mine are romantic so thats not that big of a thing ig

Day 5: Have you ever said anything to your TC that showed you favoured them? Have they said anything like that to you?

T thinks im great fr, once i asked her about smth in a spanish book i was reading and she told me then went to the cupboard and got me another spanish book to read and she said just whenever i want i can borrow books from that cupboard to read B)

Day 6: Have you ever noticed any small habits that they have? If so, what comes to mind first?

M HE FUCKING HE ALWAYS FIDDLES WITH HIS PENS AND LIKE ROCKS BACK AND FORTH ON HIS HEELS ITS SO CUTE

he also like adjusts his clothes a lot which is cute

Day 8: Does your TC ever talk about what it was like when they were still a student?

no not rlly, sometimes T talks about like school in spain because shes from spain but thats it i suppose

Day 9: Does your TC have a significant other? If so, what do you know about them and how do you feel about them?

SOBBING AND CRYING M HAS A WHOLE WIFEEEEE idk much abt her tho

same w T, she has a husband i think but she never speaks abt him

Day 10: What is the longest time you have gone without seeing them?

probs weeks/a month or two w summer holidays/half terms

Day 11: What do other people usually think about them?

nah everyone loves T she’s so nice and fun, even the kids that muck around in her lesson have usually said that she’s actually rlly nice and would teach them well if they acc tried in spanish yk

for M quite a few ppl in our year also have a bit of a thing for him (like 3?) but also most ppls opinion of him is that he’s rlly nice, before i met him that’s all ppl said about him, how like he was genuinely a nice teacher

for R i have heard a few others think he’s hot but most ppl are either terrified of him or make fun of him or both

Day 12: Do you often make up excuses to speak to them? What kinds of excuses do you like to use?

no stopppp for M i so want to but i’m always too nervous, i’m considering when revising after school one day going to his room and asking if i can borrow a textbook for a bit to help w my revision but i’m scared like idk he’d say no or that would seem weird

i don’t make excuses to talk to T more than we do but already we talk a lot, i always put my hand up in class, if i’m unsure of smth she will come over and explain to me, sometimes after class if there’s smth abt spanish i need clarifying i’ll just stay behind for a minute and ask, i once even showed her the spanish novel i was reading, and she always says hola to all her students in the corridor which is nice and sometimes if the corridor isn’t busy she’ll stop to have a little conversation with me

Day 13: Other than the subject they teach, what are they really passionate about?

in general M is rlly passionate about like learning and you can tell he loves to help ppl learn it’s rlly sweet :)

Day 15: Which MBTI personality do you think they are? (If you don't do MBTI, which Hogwarts House do you think they would be in?)

none of these are based on like proper typing i just did these kinda quickly lol

M - ESFP

T - ESTP

R - ISTJ

Day 16: If you could go back in time and choose, would you still choose to develop feelings for your TC?

i just wish with M i started going to chem support sooner, i was going to start going back in december but 1) i was scared so only went to the ones my own chem teacher ran (not M) and 2) most after schools at the time i was having gcse drama rehearsals so i couldn’t acc go to chem support that often anyway but then even when rehearsals ended i just completely forgot those support sessions existed until now coz i was rlly stressed n stuff but yeah i think i would still wanna have feelings for him but just wish i did sooner so it wasn’t that i’m running out of time coz in less than two months my gcses are over and i’ve finished at that school, well lower school, i will be staying for sixth form but i am NOT doing chem a level lmao but yeah so i’ll still see him around ig

Day 17: If it was the last time you would ever be able to see your TC, what is one thing you would never leave without saying to them?

with M i would wanna thank him for helping me realise i’m not just stupid and that wish revision and hard work i rlly can improve, also that i can tell he just loves teaching his subject and his whole vibe and how genuinely nice he is, just to never change that for anyone and that he’s literally inspired me to do better

with T i would want to thank her for all the years of teaching me and how her lessons have always been a highlight of my day and how she is genuinely an amazing teacher

Day 18: When was the first time you cried because of them?

literally on monday this week (25/4) for M coz i think i posted abt it actually, but i genuinely thought i was just Bad At Chemistry and science in general and there was no hope of me getting better / understanding certain stuff but he really broke down everything and explained it and helped me and now i rlly do understand those topics so when i went home i got all emotional bcos he is such a good teacher and made me realise i’m not just stupid and that i can improve

i don’t think i’ve cried coz of any of the others tbh

Day 19: How well do you think you know them?

with T i think i know we pretty well but i haven’t had enough time with M or R to really get to know them

Day 20: Do you ever lie to them? About what?

no actually, with M i was honest when he asked if i had revised stuff / if i knew about smth at chem support

and with T again i’m honest if i don’t know something i’ll say, i’ll still try and answer but yk, but i usually know in spanish anyway

Day 21: What is the longest time you have spent together with them?

once R covered my english class so an hour? but that was my whole class, i’ve never been alone with him

T again mainly when she teaches me but also my after my speaking mock she talked me to for a bit just us which was nice coz they were running ahead of schedule

M <333 chemistry support <3 so like an hour and a half nearly and it was just us it was so nice

Day 22: If you have had other TCs in the past (or right now), how are they similar to or different from your current (or primary) TC?

no all of mine are like completely different fr it’s so weird

like M is super nice and so is T but R is SO SCARY and M and T are very different in other ways too

Day 23: Have you ever seen your TC in clothes they don’t usually wear? Casual clothes if they usually wear formal attire or the other way around?

once on non uniform day M wore a BROWN T SHIRT AND JEANS it was SO UGLY i was so disappointed

sir please why couldn’t you have STYLE

i could fix him* *his wardrobe

Day 24: When was the last time they made your heart thump?

stoppp omg the other day when walking into assembly i made direct eye contact with M for a few seconds and afterwards my heart was beating so fast omg

Day 25: How do you think your TC would react if you confided in them when you felt sad or stressed or anxious?

i think T would be super understanding and nice tbh, i think she would be good at offering advice for most stuff, also if i was anxious about spanish exams/grades she would assure me im doing fine so :)

with M im not too sure coz like we arent close like at all coz he doesnt teach me but i think he would still be nice abt it

Day 26: What is the best dream you have had of them?

not the Best but the FUNNIEST dream i had was once i had a dream that i had to do ANOTHER dance practical gcse but i was the only one who had to??? and on practical gcse days we’d get to miss lessons but for some reason i had to go to chemistry and like i was running to my locker to get my chem book and i see M in a classroom and he comes out of the room and in a really scary way was like “Why Aren’t You In Lesson” and i was like um i have a dance gcse sir sorry sir and he was like “This Is Not Okay You Must Go To Your Lesson Now” and i was like okay sir sorry sir

then i went to chemistry (late) and i get to the door and knock and my normal teacher is in there teaching but M answers the door and i was like so sorry i’m late sir and he was like “That Is Not Okay Go To Your Seat Now”

it was weird bcos even tho my teacher was teaching, M AND R were BOTH supervising the lesson???? and R was being super nice it was like M and R had swapped personalities, then when i sat down i went to my friend “omg i think M hates me 😰😰”

then later M was like why are you wearing that and i was like for my dance gcse sir and he was like Oh

then i woke up it was very weird

Day 27: What is the saddest/scariest dream you have had of them?

i think the dream above counts as the scariest one as well tbh

Day 28: Does your TC ever bring you up to other students/teachers that you know of?

not that i know of :(( but T does always say that our class is the best she's had in a long time so i like to think she has mentioned how good i am / how hard i try to other teachers

Day 29: Do you see them as being a romantic person? Are you?

i think M would be such a romantic, i cant see the others being super overly romantic but i bet M would be the one to be all lovey dovey and sappy and do romantic gestures n stuff <33

#j says stuff #tc challenges #T #M #R

[ananyapathak]

Wait y’all actually use bookmarks? Like y’all don’t magically flip to the exact page you left on?? Y’all don’t just remember the approximate thickness of the finished pages?????

#why’d I think bookmarks were just free fun stuff #I’m supposed to be studying not questioning my reading habits #and life #eh whatever #booksblr #desi urban academia #desi studyblr #desi academia #desi dark academia #dark academia blog #book blog #bookish #book aesthetic #readers of tumblr #readerslife #bookworm #books aesthetic