#back on our arrested development shit

[tboyswag]

tobias funke from arrested development has tboy swag!

[can-i-get-a-yippee]

There’s an alternate universe where the 911 writers didn’t murder Shannon, and she, Buck, and Eddie get to have a similar dynamic to Micheal, Bobby, and Athena

[velidewrites]

Get In The Water

To bargain with an ancient death-lord, Captain Elain Archeron must acquire the rare, magical scales of a siren. Little does she know her target is no ordinary Mer—but the Prince of the Undersea himself.

Pairing: Elucien

Tags: Pirate!Elain x Merman!Lucien

Notes: For the beautiful talented stunning @areyoudreaminof for the @acotargiftexchange! I wasn't your original Secret Santa, but I tried to include some of your favourites here (this is your official warning for Jurian being a canon-typical little shit). Sending you so many smooches!

Thank you @ablogofsapphicpanic for being my beta<3

Read on AO3

“With all due respect, Captain Archeron, I really don’t think this is a good idea.”

Elain’s answering sigh was deep enough to rustle the waves ahead. She tossed them a final look before turning back to her quartermaster. “You know exactly where you can shove your respect, Jurian.”

He bounced off the mast with a grin. “Up my arse, no doubt,” he mused, a large, tanned hand stroking his much overgrown stubble. They’d been out at sea for weeks—for good reason, too, though Elain realised it was a sentiment less and less of her crew continued to share.

Still, she nodded with a smile of her own. “Same as last time.”

“Then I’m sure I don’t have to tell you it would have been wise to dock in Adriata two weeks ago.” He crossed his arms. “We’re not exactly welcome on Day Court waters.”

That was certainly one way to put it. Elain was half-expecting the High Lord’s army, ready at arms and lined up on the shores of Port Denera to arrest her and her crew. It would hardly be the first time.

Elain’s smile only grew wider. “There’s nothing quite like coming home.”

Jurian rolled his eyes, no doubt remembering their latest excursion himself, and leaned over the bulwark. “It’s been a while,” he remarked, his brown gaze drifting off to the azure sea. In the waning hours of the afternoon, the golden sunlight reflected off its surface, shimmering quietly as though unaware of the chaos to come. Where she came from—a little town bordering the Eastern Coast—the fishermen used to say the future was carried in with the waves. Elain was never much a practitioner of such belief—after all, if it were true, her ship would surely be on the verge of utter collapse right now, sinking underwater with the crashing force of the raging sea.

Instead, they continued to peacefully make their way northeast, the sun warming their skin as though in greeting. The irony wasn’t lost on her, but she supposed it was much easier to enjoy the bliss while it lasted. The silver blade strapped to her side flashed at the thought, undeniably in protest—she’d had it dipped in the Cauldron a few decades ago (before her sister, the High Lady herself, had somehow lost the whole damn thing), and since then, the sword had seemed to develop a mind of its own. Elain didn’t mind. It was bloody useful in battle, and she was smarter than to argue with a deadly, magical artifact. Even if it was a real fucking smartass.

The sword flashed again—and a lot brighter this time, too bright to mistake it with a random glimpse of the sunlight.

“Sorry,” Elain muttered.

Jurian—she’d nearly forgotted he was still here—glanced down at her belt. “You need to stop talking to the damn thing.”

She could have sworn she felt something sharp twitch against her hip.

“Would you like to talk to it instead?” she asked sweetly.

Jurian’s eyes narrowed. “No.”

“I thought so.”

“Seriously, Elain,” he sighed, apparently foregoing her usual title. “I would have gone to the ends of the earth with you to get those scales. Hell, I will go to the ends of the earth, and you know I won’t so much as hesitate.”

Elain did know. The stakes were too high—too personal, especially for her second-in-command.

“But the crew needs a break,” Jurian continued. “Adriata was supposed to be our goldmine, and we found nothing—nothing, Elain, not even one of those gods-damned—”

“I know what happened in Adriata, Jurian,” Elain cut in. “I was there.”

“I only mean—”

“I know what you mean. And I agree, even if I do not show it sometimes. Jurian, I…” She closed her eyes, letting the salty mist pearl on her skin, her lashes. “I miss her too. Every day.”

For a moment, there was only silence—silence and the quiet whoosh of the deep blue waves.

“I know you do,” Jurian whispered beside her.

“She’s out there, somewhere—somewhere on the Continent. With that monster to do with her as he likes.” She could practically hear Jurian grit his teeth beside her. “I won’t give up, and we’ve been out here together long enough for me to know you won’t give up, either.”

“The Death God is persistent,” Jurian seethed. “He demands too high a price.”

Indeed he did. Koschei, a being so ancient even the fishermen in her small Day Court village had no legends singing of his name, had been magically bound to his lair on the Continent millennia ago—and, apparently, had been trying to find a way out of his chains ever since. The only thing in the world able to release him, though, was—of course—the Cauldron, the creator of the world itself.

And, up until sixty years ago, Elain would see it in her sister’s dining room every Solstice. It was ridiculous, really, the power the Night Court used to have in its grasp. That wasn’t to say it had not been deserved—the Cauldron had been won in a war full of blood and sacrifice, one her sister and his mate had nearly lost their life in, but…well. Surely they could have found a more secure place to display it than their townhouse in Velaris. A place where it could not have gotten stolen by only the Mother knew whom, or better yet—a place where no one, not even Feyre and Rhysand, could ever find it again.

It was too late for such semantics. Despite an entire Valkyrie region searching the skies for a sign of it, the Cauldron was simply…gone.

Nesta believed it to have been an inside job. After all, there were only a handful of people outside of Velaris aware of the city’s existence at all, let alone the High Lord and Lady’s private residence. But the Head Valkyrie had questioned them all—and found nothing at all.

For the first twenty years, Elain searched for it, too—anything to get out of her village, really, and the ghosts of a life she longed to leave behind. An engagement to a local lord’s son might have been the dream of many females back home, but it was, and never would be, Elain’s

The missing Cauldron had given her the opportunity she’d been searching for, and Elain did not look back when Feyre asked for her help. In her travels, though…she discovered a beauty to the seas, to the vast world they opened up for her taking—and so, after too many hopeless clues and tearful conversations with her sister, Elain had let the waves consume her entirely.

She did not think she would ever have to worry about the Cauldron again. She’d hoped, perhaps foolishly, that it had lost itself to the world just as she wished it would. But then Elain had met Vassa, and then Vassa had been taken by Koschei, and, well…

Her fate belonged to the Cauldron once again.

This time, though, it was hardly a chore, or a favour she was doing her little sister. It was a matter of life or death, of the family she’d found sailing the seas of Prythian. Vassa was a sister, too, a sister she loved dearly enough that when Koschei’s demands began to invade her visions, Elain did not hesitate.

She and Jurian had devised a plan—it wasn’t exactly foolproof, so to say, but she hoped it would be enough. It had to be.

“Do you know how much just one of the Mer scales runs for on the black market, Jurian?” Elain asked, more to prove a point than to get an actual answer. He knew—they’d been chasing them for the past two years. Still, she said, “Ten thousand gold marks. You could buy a manor in Spring for that kind of money.”

“I have allergies,” Jurian murmured.

“I know I didn’t just hear that.”

Jurian sighed. “It just seems…I don’t know, Elain. The Mer people are folktale. If your so-called Undersea were to exist, we would have found it in Adriata.”

“The High Lord’s libraries clearly point to the seas of Day,” Elain pressed.

Jurian snorted. “Are you sure you read that right? We didn’t exactly have a lot of time in that library, you know.”

She cut him a look sharper than the sword at her side. “I’m sure. I got the information we needed with a few minutes to spare.”

“I think your posters are still hanging at the entrance.”

Elain wrinkled her nose. “I don’t like the way my hair looks in those ones.” When it came to painting, the Day Court forces were no Feyre.

“They put quite the bounty on your head, you know,” Jurian added. “If that isn’t flattering, then I don’t know what is.”

Elain grinned. “Well, I stole some really valuable books.”

“I’ll bet.” He looked out to the sea again, that rugged face turning more solemn as he studied the horizon—and the shore stretching far ahead. “How do you know the scales will be enough to get Vassa back?”

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “I don’t know. But, if we can find the Mer here and get the scales we need…perhaps we can bargain with Koschei to take them instead. Their magic is forgotten, just as he is. He might find them to be enough.”

“That’s a big if, Elain.”

She shrugged. “At the very least, we might be able to use them to trace the Cauldron. I’ve sent a letter to Velaris—Amren volunteered her assistance.”

Jurian shuddered.

“Don’t be a baby,” Elain rolled her eyes. “She’s useful. Ancient.”

“Precisely.”

“I just…” He shook his head, his brown curls catching the sunlight. “Things are weird enough as they are. You Fae are hardly accepting of pirates, let alone humans.”

Elain tucked a loose strand of hair behind an arched ear. “I’m a pirate,” she declared, letting some of the pride she’d buried deep in her chest creep into her tone. “I am happy to share at least half of the burden with you.”

Jurian’s warm hand covered her own. “You’re a good friend, Elain,” he said. “You could have left—could have sailed off after that whole fiasco with Koschei.” He gave her a light squeeze. “But you chose to stay.”

She could not meet his stare—not when the salt in her eyes had begun to burn too much, blurring her own gaze as she turned to face the shallowing water. “I’ve run away before,” she told him quietly. “No more.”

“No more,” Jurian agreed. He had a past of his own—and, when the time was right…he would tell her. And she would embrace it without question.

“I’ll tell you what,” Elain started, her throat suddenly tight. “It’s a big day we’ve got tomorrow. Tell the crew we’ll be dining at the local tavern tonight?”

Slowly, Jurian turned to her—and smiled. “Aye, aye, Captain.”

***

The Pearl was a small ship—small enough not to raise suspicions when they’d docked in Port Denera. The flag—a Mer tail with a pearl resting between its fins—had been carefully folded away prior to their arrival, the sigil of Elain’s crew all but too recognisable in those parts of Prythian.

It wasn’t that Elain had no moral compass whatsoever, but, over the years, she had learned that sometimes, taking her life into her own hands had a tendency to pay off a whole lot more than simply letting it run its course. Had she lived by a different set of rules, she would have long been married to the new Lord Nolan, never having left her hometown and spending her days at the beach, looking out to the sea and wishing for a life never to be.

It could have been a good life, perhaps—but it would never be the life she wanted, the life she craved. Besides, it wasn’t like Elain had ever been given a good example to follow. Feyre, after all, had escaped her own arranged marriage and ran right to the deepest, darkest corners of Night, Nesta following shortly after. It was only fair that Elain followed the family tradition.

Father had been devastated—Elain’s engagement, after all, had been his final, desperate attempt at seeing his daughters well off before his passing. After Feyre and Nesta’s disobedience, as he’d called it, Father had assumed his daughters had simply rebelled because they wished to remain home. Perhaps that was why, after having tried marrying Feyre off to Spring and Nesta to Hybern, he’d settled for seeing Elain with a small, local nobleman.

Elain did not care for riches—well, she hadn’t cared then. Now, having seen all that the world had to offer, she supposed she did enjoy having a few pearls and gold around her neck at times. But it hadn’t been the match itself that bothered her—she was sure Greysen Nolan was perfectly nice and well-mannered—but the fact that Father hadn’t even asked if he was who Elain wanted, if he’d even cared if she could ever love Greysen at all.

As cliché as it sounded, love was exactly what Elain craved so viciously. And now, decades later, she had finally found that love—here, out at sea, with the waves embracing her wholly and eternally. This—the Pearl—was her home.

She sure hoped home wouldn’t mind seeing her stumble back aboard in a few hours, when she was well and thoroughly drunk out of her mind.

Aside from pearls and jewellery, Elain had developed a taste for ale, and it just so happened that the Port Denera tavern was famous for the golden drink. It tasted like liquid gold in her cup, leaving a tinge on her tongue that sent her senses spiralling and flushed her cheeks with bright-pink heat.

The crew seemed to be enjoying themselves, too, and it was only for that reason that she’d allowed her instincts to abandon ship for a moment or two. Well, perhaps three. She hadn’t seen Jurian this happy and relaxed since Vassa had been taken—a sign of how truly tired he must have been these past few weeks, of how badly he needed an evening to forget.

The thought sobered her up just a little, and Elain remembered the true reason she’d allowed this unusual night out in a town where the entire army was on the lookout for Captain Archeron. She did feel slightly guilty for misleading Jurian into thinking it was simply out of the goodness of her own heart—into omitting the one, small ulterior motive that had lately seemed to be driving nearly every decision of hers.

Information.

While the fishermen in the East of the Day Court had no knowledge of the Mer, the folk of Port Denera no doubt sang of the old creatures lurking beneath the sea. She’d already picked up on a few shanties on the way to the tavern, humming the words quietly to herself as she searched the lyrics for anything valuable. The Mer’s magic appeared to be as sharp as their teeth, capable of stirring the waves and calling upon storms. The strongest of them could lure the innocent, hungry wanderers into their traps with a lulling voice and mesmerising eyes, ones that reflected the soul’s deepest desires just as the surface of the sea reflected the sun above. Once captured, they’d sink those teeth into the flesh of their prey, and drag them under—never to be seen again.

Elain hummed the tune again cheerfully, excitement bubbling up in her chest—well, she supposed the bubbles might have had to do with some of the barrels of alcohol she’d consumed. Still, this was promising. All she needed was a name—a lagoon, or a hidden grotto, perhaps, where she could locate a lair. Her Cauldron-blessed sword would do the rest of the job.

Somewhere far beyond her peripheral vision, she heard the silver hum happily, already summoned by the rather bloodthirsty thought.

It was not that Elain wanted to murder the Mer in cold blood. She did not enjoy killing (she could have sworn her blade huffed at the sentiment), but if there was no other way to acquire the scales, she would do it. She loved Vassa enough to do whatever it took—the exiled, Firebird queen would do the exact same for her.

For what had to have been the hundredth time, Elain looked around the tavern, her somewhat blurry gaze scanning the bustling area. It was a lot more crowded than she’d expected—which proved a good thing all the same. It was a lot harder to get spotted in a sea of creatures of all shapes and sizes, and it sure helped that they all seemed piss-drunk, too.

The local shanty found its way onto her lips once more, and she sang it absently, her attention entirely focused on some old wraith somehow downing two bottles of wine at once. Her sharp nails scraped against the glass as she drank, and Elain watched, completely entranced at what she’d never thought could be accomplished before.

In the morning sun so bright, the sailors set to sea,

Their hearts as bold as brass, their spirits ever-free.

But careful, sailor, please, beware the waves that dance and play,

Beneath this sunny surface, a wicked mermaid lay.

“Sounds terrifying.”

Elain jumped.

The ale in her hand fell to the ground with a loud clunk, the sound immediately drowned out by a rumbling laughter of the crows. The golden liquid spilled over her, sticking to the skin of her neck, her collarbones, the curves of her exposed breasts—until finally sinking into the white fabric of her corset. Elain swore under her breath, cursing her choice of garment for tonight, before finally looking up.

“Shit,” she swore again, for the lack of a better word—or, perhaps, because there was no word to describe the male standing before her.

The most beautiful man she’d ever seen.

A pair of shining eyes of molten gold looked her up and down, an auburn eyebrow quirking up in amusement. “Now, don’t tell me you’re disappointed,” he drawled, his voice rich and deep and smoother than the liquid she’d swallowed down her throat. “I spent a lot of time on my hair earlier tonight.”

Elain blinked—then blinked again. “Are you…hitting on me?”

His mouth—full and plush and gods she needed to get it together—twitched. “And here I was, thinking I was all too obvious,” he quipped.

She peeled her gaze off the soft waves of his hair, glistening under the tavern’s candlelight. “Perhaps you’re just not very good at it,” she remarked, thanking the Mother for keeping her tongue sharp when her mind bordered on insanity.

The stranger smiled openly now. “What’s your name?” he asked.

Elain angled her head an inch. “Why?”

Did she really just ask him that?

Perhaps it was time to order some water.

The male seemed entirely unbothered. “It’s not often you meet a beautiful female singing old folktales in the middle of a tavern,” he said, offering a one-shouldered shrug. “I find myself somewhat…intrigued.”

“Intrigued,” Elain repeated blankly.

His smile grew wider. “Quite,” he agreed. “Those are old, you know.”

Elain straightened—straightened and blinked again, her thoughts somehow collecting into one, singular stream as she remembered what, exactly, she had come to this tavern for. “Are they?” she asked, “I’ve just picked up on them an hour ago.”

“An hour?”

She offered a smile of her own. “I have an excellent memory.”

Those golden eyes glistened. “Is that so?” the male asked, his gaze sweeping down her body as though he had all the time in the world. “If I tell you my name, will you sing it for me, too?”

Focus, Elain. He’d mentioned the Mer shanties, did he not? “I doubt anyone will hear it,” she remarked. “I never see Port Denera this busy.”

“You’ve been here before?”

Elain waved a dismissive hand. “Once or twice,”

The male hummed. “Then you know today is an important day,” he said, that strange shade of amusement playing over his features once more. “The High Lord is mourning the loss of his dear wife and son, and we are drinking in a show of, ah…solidarity,” he finished, a passing faun raising his glass at them, as though emphasising his agreement.

Elain waited for him to get out of earshot. “Wife and son?” she questioned, searching the corners of her mind that stored everything she knew about her Court.. “Didn’t that happen three hundred years ago?”

Those eyes narrowed at her slightly, and the stranger tilted his head. “Do you think he should have moved on instead?” he asked, the question so quiet it may as well have been a breath—and yet, she’d heard it perfectly over the bustling crowd.

Elain considered. “I think it must have been a beautiful kind of love, if he’s mourning it so many centuries later.”

His auburn brow arched in surprise. “What did you say your name was, lady…?”

Elain snorted. “Oh, I’m no lady.” She set her glass on a nearby table. “Haven’t been for a while.”

“You certainly look like one,” he remarked, that smile once again creeping back onto his ridiculously handsome features.

She couldn’t resist. “Do I, now?”

He chuckled, the sound low and honeyed. “Oh, absolutely.”

“And are you in the habit of flirting with all the ladies you pick up in a tavern?” Elain teased.

“No, no. I usually let them come to me.” He winked. “I can be a good singer too, you know.”

Elain smiled.

“I’ll take your word for it,” she laughed. “So, you know those shanties, too?”

His eyes glittered.

There it was.

“Some of them,” he agreed.

“Do they hold any truth?” she pressed. Come on, come on, come on…

“Sometimes,” he nodded. “Does it matter?”

You have no idea, Elain thought. “It does. I’m looking for…” she hesitated. “Information.”

“Oh?”

“The books in Day’s library state I might find it here,” she added carefully.

Something like realisation crept onto his features. “You wish to know about the Merpeople,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest. Elain’s gaze flickered to the movement. “How did you get access to those books?” he asked.

“It’s not important,” she told him, eyeing the golden-brown muscles flexing under the candlelight.

“I disagree,” the male said, “those books are extremely well-guarded.” Was that admiration she’d heard in his tone?

“What was your name, again?” Elain asked him.

The male smiled. “Would you like to come outside with me?”

As if. “I’m not exactly in a hook-up mood right now, sorry,” she told him, though uncertain if the words rang entirely true.

He smiled—as though he knew. “What about information?” She felt her brows flick up. “I thought so. Now, shall we? It’s more quiet out back,” he added, gesturing to the tavern’s back door.

“I like it loud,” Elain countered. The more people drowning their conversation, the better.

“So do I,” he winked. “Another time, baby, I promise.”

Elain rolled her eyes. “Very funny,” she said, then dared a quick glance around the space again. Come to think of it, the couple at the table near where the two of them stood were awfully close—close enough that Elain decided not to risk it. She nodded to the stranger. “Let’s go.”

“Just so that we’re clear,” he started as they made their way through the crowd, “once you get those scales, we’re splitting the profits.”

“We can discuss the money later,” Elain countered. Like hell she was going to share anything with him.

“If that is what you wish,” he nodded, and opened the door.

The fresh air hit her almost unexpectedly, but it was a welcome change from the stuffy tavern in the back. She breathed in the salt carried in by the sea, her thoughts clearing up enough that she could finally focus on the matter at hand without unnecessary…distractions.

The distraction flashed her a smile, the beach behind him illuminated by the dying sunlight. “So, Mer scales, hmm? What do you need those for?”

“That,” Elain said firmly, “is none of your business.”

He chuckled again, the sound different this time—less than that deep, raspy sound she’d heard before, but more…fluid, like tea stirring in a cup. Warm. Inviting. “Oh, you have no idea,” he said quietly—and reached out his hand.

“Come with me,” the stranger told her.

Elain frowned. “I’m already here,” she pointed out. “You wanted to leave the tavern,” she reminded him.

He hummed—and she could have sworn it was like a melody pouring from his chest. “Yes,” he told her, stepping back until his feet—bare, she now noticed—reached the sand. “Let’s go a little further, alright?”

Elain stepped forward. “I…don’t understand,” she said. Still, she moved in closer.

He offered her a gentle smile. “Just one more step for me, gorgeous, please,” he tried again, his hand still outstretched.

“Okay.” She reached the sand now, too—but he had somehow moved back a few steps again, inches away from the waves’ embrace.

“Good girl,” he purred, the water now kissing his skin. Elain stepped in closer. “You’re very beautiful, you know,” he told her, angling his head slightly. She watched as his long hair spilled down his back in waves softer than the very sea—and met his gaze again, only to find it dark. “Almost beautiful enough to hide that rotten soul of yours.”

That gold had tarnished—enough to hide that bright, enticing gleam.

“Yes,” Elain agreed.

“Mmm, I thought so,” he mused. “I just need you to take a few more steps, alright? We’re almost at the shore,” he added, his voice like a lullaby, reassuring.

“Yes, I’ll follow you,” she agreed again.

“You’re doing so well for me,” he praised. “I might even consider making your death painless,” he whispered, watching her closely as she, too, neared the edge of the water. “Though that wasn’t the kind of death you had planned for my kind, was it?” he asked, a certain sharpness to his tone that made her open her mouth. “Oh, no need to answer that, baby,” he interrupted, “but I do appreciate your eagerness.”

Elain nodded. “Whatever you wish.”

He smiled, flashing his teeth. A perfect, pearly set of sharp blades—sharp enough to tear her flesh apart. “That’s a good girl,” he hummed, and she could have sworn she heard her soul sing in answer. “Now, step into the sea.”

Elain stopped inches from the seafoam. “Will you give me your hand?” she asked him shyly.

His features softened—though the sharp, predatory smile remained. “Of course, my rotten, terrible lady,” he purred. “Come with me.”

Elain slid her hand in his—and waited.

His skin, surprisingly, was warm—sun-kissed, as if he hadn’t spent an entire lifetime in the dark depths of the Undersea. He felt smooth, too, with some coarseness here and there that let her know his palm was no stranger to holding a weapon—a trident, perhaps, if the songs of the fishermen had, indeed, held any truth to them. 

The leaves behind her rustled—and Elain finally, finally released a breath.

“No,” she told him, her voice still feigning that blissful softness. “No, I don’t think I will.”

The merman blinked. “What?”

Elain gave him a smile that was purely Fae—one that let him know she was a monster, too. “It was a nice try, really,” she said, her free hand reaching back to her belt. “Sorry it didn’t work out.”

A pair of iron cuffs appeared in her grip—and, in a flash of a second, found its way onto the merman’s wrists.

His skin sizzled, and he hissed sharply, those dark eyes wide and not leaving hers for one second—but Elain held on, murmuring the spell she’d memorised under her breath.

She could never come to the land of the Mer unprepared.

“Duck!” Jurian yelled behind her.

She only had a fraction of a moment to see the bow in his hands—to stop him before he released the arrow.

Elain didn’t stop him, though.

She ducked.

***

“I can’t believe you caught one of them,” Jurian said in disbelief. “Good work, really, Elain, but did you have to bring him onto the ship?”

From the corner of her eye, she caught a flicker of movement behind the bars. The merman rose to his full height—he seemed taller in the constrained space of the brig, somehow—and met her gaze directly.

“Your name,” he said as though in a daze. “Elain.”

Elain cut her friend a look. “Thank you, Jurian.”

Jurian bounced off the wall. “Sorry,” he shrugged, his tone suggesting he wasn’t sorry at all.

“It didn’t work,” their prisoner said, more to himself now than his jailors.

“What didn’t work?” Jurian asked him sharply.

The merman looked at him—and Elain knew it took everything in her quartermaster not to flinch under his scrutiny. “My spell,” he explained slowly, then turned toward her again. “It didn’t work on you,” he repeated.

“Perhaps you’re not as good as you thought,” Jurian said.

He scoffed, as though the remark pulled him out of whatever fog had clouded his thoughts. “My name is Lucien Spell Cleaver,” he declared, his voice louder now, stronger. “Firstborn son of Helion Spell Cleaver, Prince of the Undersea—and heir to the High Lord of the Day Court.”

Beside her, Jurian went entirely still. Truth be told, she wasn’t sure she was moving at all, either.

She may have been a pirate, but kidnapping a High Lord’s son—nay, his heir—was an act of treason, and Elain really wished to see one hundred before eventually dying a horrible, undoubtedly painful death. Quite common in her profession, really. 

“Impossible,” she whispered. “Helion’s son is dead—as is his wife.”

“Clearly not,” Jurian murmured.

The male—Lucien—narrowed his gaze at the two of them. “We have been in hiding for the moment I was born. There was no denying what I was, not until I learned how to glamour myself, and my mother—she took me back to her people to protect me,” he explained.

“Does the High Lord know?” Elain breathed. He was lying. He had to have been.

Still, it was nice to at least know his name. Fake or not, it pleased her, for some reason. Lucien.

“Of course,” he scoffed. “The ‘Summer Estate’ he leaves for six months every year is Undersea.”

The answer was detailed enough that Elain’s heart quickened. “You really are Lucien Spell Cleaver?” she asked.

“And you,” Lucien nodded, “are Elain Archeron. Pirate…and Mer killer, apparently.”

“I haven’t killed anyone,” Elain protested.

“Yet,” he finished for her. “You were going to kill me,” he said, those golden eyes—back to normal now that he was at their mercy—settling on her as he added, “You still are.”

“I haven’t decided yet,” she scrambled. Some pirate she was—some of her rivals back East would have made her walk the plank for her hesitation.

Still, Elain could not bring herself to remember why…

“Why do you want my scales?” Lucien asked, interrupting her trail of thought—completing it, really.

“I told you, that is none of your business,” she told him, though her voice lacked her previous conviction this time.

“It is, if you still want them,” he countered.

“Why on earth would you give us your scales?” Jurian demanded.

“Well, I wouldn’t,” Lucien shrugged, then lifted his iron-bound hands into view. “As you can see, I am not in my Mer form, and will not be until you release me back into the sea,” he argued. “So, why don’t you just let me go, I give you my scales, and everyone wins?”

“Because you’re very obviously lying,” Elain cut in. “And you and your little Undersea army are going to sink my ship the moment it sails.”

The corner of his lip ticked upwards. “Is the word of a Prince not credible enough for you, Elain Archeron?”

“Not particularly,” she replied calmly. Princes, Lords—she’d heard their promises before, and ran to the sea to escape them.

“You are unlike any Mer hunter I’ve ever met before,” Lucien hummed, as though in thought.

Elain frowned. “There are hunters?”

“Of course,” he told her. “My father has disposed of as many of them as he could, but some still emerge every few years, hoping to see if the songs are true.” His expressions sombered. “Our scales are very valuable.”

“So we’ve heard,” Jurian said.

Lucien’s gaze flickered up. “It is money, then,” he said matter-of-factly, though something like anger lingered in the back of his throat.. “You wish to kill my people for a few gold marks?”

Elain swallowed.

“You don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, princeling,” Jurian seethed.

Elain placed a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “Take a breath, Jurian,” she told him quietly. “Why don’t you leave us alone for a moment?”

Jurian looked at her—then back at Lucien again. “Let me know if you need help killing him,” he said darkly. Then, “For the record, I don’t care what you are,” he told Lucien. “You’re just annoying the shit out of me.”

And with that, he was gone, the wooden stairs carrying the echo of his steps. Only when they faded did Lucien finally say, “I like him.”

“He shot you,” Elain reminded him.

Lucien shrugged. “It wasn’t an ash arrow, now, was it? We live to forgive. Besides, I’m healed now.” Indeed, the wound in his shoulder had now closed almost entirely. “Well, almost,” he said, pointedly raising his wrists back into the light.

Elain had hoped the iron would work—it was an old superstition the humans thought could harm the Fae, but it had to have stemmed from somewhere. With Day’s libraries proclaiming the Merpeople as millenia older than the Fae, Elain figured it wouldn’t hurt to try.

“Sorry about the iron bars,” she said, nodding to Lucien’s cell. “Precautions.”

“I would have expected nothing less,” Lucien said—then leaned back, letting the back of his head rest against the wood. “So.”

Elain released a breath.

“Alright,” she braced herself. He was her future High Lord, apparently—if she lied, she was already dead. “What do you know of Koschei?”

“Who?”

“Nothing, then,” Elain sighed. “He is a death-lord—a god-like being trapped somewhere deep in the Continent. His magic is even more ancient than yours.”

Lucien’s brows furrowed. “And you seek to…take his magic for yourself?”

“I want nothing to do with his magic,” Elain told him hotly, earning an arched eyebrow in response. “It is revolting. But, it also currently binds my friend’s soul to Koschei himself, and he will not give her up unless we offer him something in exchange.”

“Mer scales?”

“He wants the Cauldron,” she explained. “We are hoping the scales will do for now.” She fought the urge to bury her face in her hands. Was the plan truly that hopeless? Was Vassa going to be trapped…forever?

In her misery, she hardly noticed Lucien had gone strangely quiet.

“Our scales do not even compare to the sheer power of the Cauldron,” he said, the words barely above a whisper.

Elain laughed bitterly. “If this is your way of talking me out of it, you should know I’m pretty desperate,” she told him. “I’ll do whatever it takes to get my friend back.”

At that, Lucien said nothing. He only stared at her in thought, his eyes shimmering despite the darkness she and Jurian had shoved him into.

Then, “I see.” He stepped forward then—and halted an inch from the iron bars. “I was wrong about you.”

That, Elain did not expect.

“I told you, your spells do not work on me.”

“I’m well aware,” Lucien hummed. “I speak the truth. What is your friend’s name?”

Her throat threatening to close up, Elain managed, “Vassa.” She shook her head. “She’s like a sister to me. She’s Jurian’s…”

Understanding dawned on his features.

“That makes a lot of sense,” Lucien said.

“Yes,” Elain whispered. “Yes, I suppose it does.”

Lucien studied her closely. “And do you have a…?”

Elain almost laughed—though she supposed it was better than breaking down in front of the man she’d imprisoned aboard her own ship. “Don’t tell me you’re back to your flirting strategy now,” she told him.

Lucien smiled—a true smile this time, though Elain wasn’t sure how she knew. “Was I truly that obvious?”

“I knew what you were,” she gestured over him as if it was enough of an explanation. “No one else has eyes like that.” Like the morning sun itself.

“Now who’s the shameless flirt, Elain?”

Elain chuckled. “Don’t flatter yourself.” She met his gaze again. “The song summoned you, did it not?” she asked. “You weren’t at the tavern when I arrived.”

Lucien nodded. “I heard it from beneath the waves.”

“I’m not that good a singer.”

“No, you’re not,” he said, his smile fading with the words. She found herself wanting to see it again. “It was for another reason that I heard you. I recognise that now.”

“Recognise what?”

Lucien hesitated. “I need to…” He shook his head. “I—I can’t be sure, it doesn’t…” He locked his eyes with her own again, and she watched him patiently as he searched her gaze. “Elain,” Lucien tried again, and she could have sworn his voice trembled with the word. He loosed a breath. “Come with me.”

Elain looked at his outstretched hand—careful not to let the bars graze his skin. “I told you—”

“I’m not using my magic,” Lucien interrupted. “Just…come with me. Undersea.”

“Like hell I will,” she crossed her arms. “I don’t trust you.”

Lucien just stared at her—started as if some internal battle was playing out deep inside him, one she could almost feel in her own chest.

Then, his hand pulled back, and he laid his palm flat over his chest. His heart, Elain realised, her gaze dipping toward it.

She heard it, then—a quiet, yet powerful sound, like a wave crashing over the shore. The steady beating of his heart.

It couldn’t have been—and yet…

And yet, somehow, Elain heard it. Continued to hear it even now, even stronger as Lucien proclaimed, “With my life,” he began, “I promise to do you no harm.” There was an urgency in his gaze as he pleaded, “Just get in the water with me, and I will be yours.”

Elain paused. “Your scales, you mean,” she corrected, suddenly finding herself entirely out of breath.

“Yes,” Lucien agreed. “That.”

Elain studied the bars keeping him away—then the iron key strapped beside her Cauldron-blessed sword. She swore on the Mother herself she could hear it whisper: Do it.

Perhaps she was simply losing her mind.

“Are you going to make me regret this, Lucien?” she asked him.

He simply stared back. “Are you?”

She supposed the question was reasonable enough. “Don’t tell Jurian I’m doing this,” she warned Lucien. “He’s going to kill me.”

Two minutes later, Lucien was free.

It was a blessing that they’d somehow missed Jurian, really—that she’d guided Lucien through the narrow space upstairs until they arrived at the starboard hand in hand, the sea soft and patient. Waiting.

What the hell was she doing? The only thing Elain knew for certain right now was that she was almost certainly going insane, and that Lucien’s hand in hers was warm and steadying in the buoying ship—and that those steps she was hearing somewhere behind them were, without a shadow of a doubt, Jurian’s.

Whatever Lucien was trying to prove, he had to do it now.

“Do we…jump?” she asked him.

“ELAIN!” Jurian yelled.

“I guess so,” Elain answered for him—and, together, they jumped.

The water, surprisingly, was warm despite the middle of the night. Helion liked to keep his Court warm at all times, but she supposed the sea, at least, would have carried some chill to it. It was then that she realised she’d never swam in those waters before—that she’d spent her lifetime admiring their every corner, but had never actually felt their beauty herself.

Everything happened so quickly.

The moonlight shimmered atop the sea, then sank deep beneath its surface, illuminating the space between them. Illuminating Lucien as his glamour faded and revealed the Prince of the Undersea in his true, unmasked form.

Elain could have drowned there and then.

The scales dotting his body glimmered under the light in a symphony of golds, bronzes and maroons, glowing even underwater as they formed a long, finned tail that floated gently with the current. He was sunlight come to life, the forest on a warm, autumn morning, the golden thread coming to life as it wrapped itself around her ribs, and Elain knew—knew this was the true beauty the sea had meant to show her from the very first moment she’d set sail.

“You…” She struggled for a breath. “You’re so beautiful.”

Lucien smiled, a webbed hand reaching for her own. “So are you, he said, placing her palm over his bare chest—just as he did aboard her ship moments ago. This time, though—this time, Elain could hear as their two heartbeats blended into one, a melody that made her own soul sing as Lucien whispered, “I am yours.”

The thread around her ribs tightened, forever to remain.

“You…” Elain blinked. “Oh.” She covered their joined hands with another, as if to make sure. “Lucien.”

“I needed to make sure,” he breathed, pulling her in. “You are my mate.”

There was reverence in the way he’d spoken the words—like some sacred spell only Elain was privy to hear from his lips.

She wanted to try them too.

“You are mine.”

“Yes,” he assured her.

“And I am yours.”

“Yes,” Lucien whispered again.

“Your scale—”

He squeezed her hands tighter. “Everything I am belongs to you now, Elain,” he interrupted. “But you will not need them.”

Elain blinked once more. “I don’t understand, I—”

Lucien smiled. “We have the Cauldron,” he told her. “My father took it—from Velaris.”

Elain wasn’t sure she was breathing.

“No.”

“Its wards protect us—have been keeping us safe for decades,” Lucien explained. “I think it is time we take our safety into our own hands,” he added, his thumb brushing over her palm.

Did he mean—?

Elain shook her head. “I couldn’t—”

“Where you go, I go,” Lucien said. “I am yours, Elain, and you are mine. Together, we’ll get your family back. And,” he hesitated, “If—if you still wish to have me around then—”

Her mate.

“Kiss me,” Elain demanded.

Lucien stilled. “What—”

“Now, Lucien.”

And he did.

Her eyes fluttered shut as Lucien’s mouth clashed into her own, and the world around then exploded—he tasted of salt and the sun-warmed breeze. He tasted like the rest of her gods-damned life, though she supposed eternity could never be enough to satiate the hunger one kiss had instilled deep inside her. Lucien kissed her as if she was the world, as if she was the light illuminating the sea embracing them, his lips hot and soft and all-consuming.

They had a war to face—but, as long as they faced it together…

Elain pulled back, their hearts pounding as one. She smiled at the sound.

“Let’s do this.”

[papirouge]

as someone who almost died as a minor giving birth after being raped I think u should care about the lives already here and not a clump of cells. most children conceived thru rape are abandoned or killed later on anyhow

Why are you guys acting like we had to pick a sidd between saving the life of women OR the baby?? What some sort of twisted oppression Olympics is that?? Why couldn't we fight for BOTH? This is precisely what prolifers are for.

First of all, we do care about saving pregnant women's life considering the fact that death in childbirth is ≤0.05% in developed countries.... It shows that a decent healthcare system is KEY in saving women's life during delivery - and that abortion isn't needed. COPE.

The fearmongering around pregnancy kills is inversely proportionate to how it actually does IRL.

Unlike what pro abortionist liars say, no prolifer advocate for less medical help for women. And no, we aren't all Conservatives (I'm personally not) religious (secular/LGTB+ prolife organization are a thing) or males (most prolifers are female) so enough with the tHey hAte wOmeN shtick. We don't revel in women dying in childbirth struggling to get access to pregnancy care. Many of us are mom/have family and know how hard pregnancy & educating children is. You need to stop acting like only pro choicers knew what is was like to carry a baby and deliver it. That's precisely bc we know how hard pregnancy is that we consider women deserve better than a bandaid called abortion.

Abortion is the reason why pregnancy care is sooo behind in extra liberal spaces. By shoving abortion as the only solution for women hEaLthCaRe (because it's cheaper than an actual maternity leave + welfare) they never really bothered creating a decent alternative to help women who'd decide to keep their baby. How can abortion be a ✨choice✨ when the only alternative is sinking into helplessness & poverty? Damn, you guys totally understand it when it comes to prostitution but NEVER have the intellectual honesty to ponder that question when it comes to abortion 🤔

It baffles my mind how pro abortion applauded companies offering abortions instead of a decent maternity leave. You guys are the biggest useful idiots of capitalism while thinking you are soooo subversive 🙄 That's why you are making up false opposition in the form of the big bad traditional backwardish boogeyman to make you sound braver than you are lol There's no traditionalist conspiracy... Most of the planet never stopped valuing family over career or iNdepeNdencE (although there's a definite push for cultural liberalism - of which abortion culture is totally part of) It's just the pendulum naturally coming back after a decade of libfem koolaid.

You're doing exactly what the system wants from you. You're the equivalent of 'eyeliner so sharp it would slays patriarchy' kinda shit. Especially radfem who will scream that women aren't body part (and they're right) yet advocate for the very act of treating our body like such (against our biology most basic function such as fertility/procreation) - if not straight up vilifying its work ("a baby is a parasite"). Would it even occur to you that fetus aren't "body parts" to be disposed of?? You uterus is a "clump of cells" too, you might as well throw it to the trash 🤪

Oh and many of these "poor pregnant woman got arrested for abortion" have been debunked. You guys really need to get over these misleading sensational headlines seeking to demonize pro lifers (weird, I thought there was a back to traditionalism conspiracy 🤔 shouldn't mainstream media be on our side? 🤔). Those poor women either took drugs to kill their fetus or even killed them AFTER their birth (I'm sure there's a masterpost floating around debunking these stories).

Abortion doesn't even stop rape. If anything, if facilitates its erasure (planned Parenthood allying with pimps to perform underage abortion under the radar) You guys are just moving the goal to appeal to emotionalism. Even if rape disappeared overnight you'd stil advocate for abortion so please, shut up about it. You are exhausting.

[dronarryfest]

Here we are on week two of Dronarry Fest 24! We've had some incredible works this week. Here's a roundup of everything from week 2 (last week's post can be found here). Thank you to all of our wonderful readers for commenting and kudos-ing - keep them coming! We've got one more wonderful week of works to share with you from Monday onwards! Until then, why not stick the kettle on and catch up on what you've missed...

[FIC] The Favourite || E || 17k || by @mallstars

On a throne of glitzing clutter, Draco Malfoy sits like a degenerate prince. His robes are the colour of sour champagne, celestial patterns stitched across the sweeping silk where it drapes over sharp shoulders and cradles a spindly waist. A rain of glitter dangles from one of his ears, and his expression is nauseating. The curl of his lip, the upturn of his pompous nose. Draco is a criminal. Harry and Ron are the Aurors who arrest him.

💭 absurdly hot- horribly hot? hotly horrible? perfect - garagepaperback

💭 holy moly this just drips with atmosphere and tension and its glorious... i love love love this fucked up dynamic thats also so sweet and human and morally ambiguous and hot - littlepocketbattleship

[FIC] Nightswimming || M || 5k || by @sweet-s0rr0w

Weasley flicks the light on. “I got off with a guy once, you know,” he says, casually, holding the torch up between his gloved fingers. “What?” says Draco, glancing over sharply. “No, you didn’t.” “I did,” Weasley insists, and there’s an air of mischief about him now. “Just after the divorce.” Draco tightens his grip on the steering wheel and wills his eyes to stay on the road, a dozen different scenarios playing out vivid in his mind. “But Harry’s never—” “Yeah, well.” Weasley clicks the torch back off. “Turns out Harry and I don’t share everything, after all.”

💭 This was wonderful!! The tension, next level 🔥🔥🔥 and I love how Harry is such a big part of this even though he's not physically there. So clever! - lemonlimelea

💭 What a feast - the prose, the dialogue, the teasing curiosity morphing into irresistible want, the clever and careful character development underneath it all. Everything so masterfully crafted and scorching hot I could feel my cheeks burning and they haven’t even kissed. What the fuck. I’m entranced still 🥵 - sitp

[FIC] Welcome, Peasants || E || 15k || by @fluxweeed

Ron was doing Draco a favour by agreeing to investigate him. Better Ron than someone who’d plant something horrific to get Draco sent to Azkaban—or some pervy Potter fanatic who’d spend the whole hour sniffing the dirty clothes on Harry’s bedroom floor. Even though Ron had to take Polyjuice and break into their flat to do it, Harry and Draco would understand. They’d appreciate it. And if Ron had done more “investigating” and less “snogging his best friend while Polyjuiced as said best friend’s secret boyfriend”, maybe it would have all been fine.

💭 Love the dynamics between the three of them - and the reveal that Ron caused Harry and Draco to get together was so unexpected and absolute perfection! Hot and amazing as always, I’m so delighted you choose to share these with us. ❤️ - rainstormradish

💭 I absolutely love that Ron is so absolutely bad at it that they clock him immediately, leaving him with his squirmy, guilty, horny feelings as they rightly should. Perfect interplay of the three of them. Yes! Yes! yes! (One for each of them). - skeptique

[FIC] Careless || E || 2k || by @piximera

They hadn't seen anyone in weeks, making them a little careless about the protective charms. Unfortunately for once they really fucked up, leaving them in the clutches of six Death Eaters. Being caught was bad enough, but then Scabior forces Draco into raping Harry in front of them before the Dark Lord arrives.

💭 HOLY SHIT this WAS dirtyhotwrong for sure! 🔥🔥🔥 Wow. Fantastic job, and thanks so much for the gift 🥰 - Schmem_14

💭 This is so dark and angsty, love seeing this take on the pairing. Thank you!!! - oknowkiss

[FIC] Dick Chicken || E || 14k || by @oknowkiss

This is a story about nothing.

💭 HOW DO YOU DO IT?! Can I climb inside your brain and live there?! God this was so goddamn amazing. I just love it more than I can say. - nv-md

💭 oh my ever-wanking LAMB this was too brilliant. i am going to die of having read this fic. it is simultaneously too funny (in honor of the source material) and too hot (not at all in honor of the source material). - elskan_ellis

[aita-blorbos]

AITA for trying to kill a child?

i know this sounds really bad but you’ve got to trust me there is something wrong with this kid.

me (47m) and my partner (33m) were committing a string of home robberies in a nice neighborhood around christmas time. all of the families in these homes were on vacation and so we were entirely non-violent, just trying to make some cash from people who could absolutely afford to loose some stuff. of course, my partner developed a “calling card” of flooding houses that we hit which i thought was stupid (because we weren’t trying to get caught so we didn’t need a calling card) and tried to discourage

we planned on finishing off our spree with the nicest house in the neighborhood, so we waited patiently until the family left for their vacation to europe and then started moving in on it

however, after some investigation it looked like the house wasn’t unoccupied after all. scared off initially by the idea that the family hadn’t yet gone on vacation, my partner and i quickly deduced that the family had left behind their youngest kid (8m) while they went on vacation

not wanting to have to give up on the nicest house in the neighborhood, my partner and i figured the kid would probably get scared, hide under a bed, and not get in our way while we robbed the place. kid that young home alone, two burglars are probably gonna scare him into inaction. worst case scenario he calls the cops, but we can figure out how to either prevent that or roll with that. pretty much, we figured we could handle an eight year old

we were quickly proven wrong. this little shit booby trapped his entire house with horrific contraptions that left my partner and i horribly injured and nearly killed us. in our (rather justified) anger, our plans quickly turned from robbing the place to getting revenge. this was no longer about money this was personal

however, just as we finally caught up to him, an elderly neighbor intervened. we were arrested and nobody ever found out about the torture this boy put us through. when i go to sleep at night i still have nightmares that i am back in that house, watching my every step but still walking into his next trap. there is no doubt in my mind that he intended to kill us

luckily our newest spree will be in new york, far away from the neighborhood this incident originally took place in, so i’m confident that things will go well this time

[ladditt]

aye, i've figured out what was bugging me following the ending of rain code.

as a murder mystery/ action puzzle game it excels.

i love each individual case, the fact that we START with an impossible mass murder and things only escalate from there, the fact that a lot of the mysteries themselves are figured out based off paying attention to tiny details and looking at the entire mystery holistically (noticing the train line map in chapter 0, the difference in the killer's MO across murders in chapter 1, the fact that the entire scheme hinges on the killer having knowledge of specific character's forte's in chapter 4 ect) and how those mysteries unfold in the labyrinth are really satisfying to play through.

i love the setting of kanai ward, the city feels guanine and lived in. the details about how their electricity is powered by the rain? the interactions between npc's? the cohesive design and small details that bring the different districts together? i love all of it.

the main issue i had with rain code was the 'main character'. yuma is the most passive, static progagonist i have ever seen in a video game, like, to the point where i'm thinking that he was intentionally written that way as a joke.

he's a complete outsider to the plot, almost all of the cases are solved separately to his own investigation, and none of his actions have any consequence to the outcome.

for example, chapter 1, helara solves the case on their own without any involvement from yuma, he's then forced to go into the mystery labyrinth because they put him on the spot to point out the culprit, and once cleared, the peacekeepers decide that they don't give a shit and are going to arrest the detectives regardless, before a third party falls out the aether to save our hero's skins. this set-up is repeated like, every chapter.

every chapter yuma has the same doubts as to if he's doing the right thing, before someone else reassures him that he's helping people and he's filled with a new found determination to solve mysteries. until he forgets that in the next chapter, and has the same doubts all over again.

his character arc is a flat circle, he starts off as the greatest detective in the world, loses all his memories and spends the entire game working towards becoming the sort of person that he WAS. only for him to regain all his memories at the end, but forget his own character arc in the process. as far as number one is concerned, he slipped on a puddle in the train station, hit his head, spent a week recovering, then got back to normal just in time to talk to mokoto. NONE OF THIS MATTERS! his relationships with the other characters mostly develop while in the mystery labyrinth, which everyone forgets about once completed. and the one relationship that does consistently change and develop, between him and shinagami, is ALSO forgotten at the end of the game.

speaking of mokoto, the final case of the game, the one that yuma is forced to solve on his own, consists of mokoto strapping the guy into a fairground haunted house ride, and demonstrating the plot to him. his master plan was to manipulate yuma to get the outcome he wants, and then succeeds at this 100% with no hiccups. then once the great mystery of kanai ward is revealed, just as planned, yuma decides that he would literally rather die than make a decision.

like i said, it feels like it was written as a comedic take on how detectives in mystery novels are like, passengers to the plot. it doesn't take away from how much i enjoyed the game, or how much i like yuma as a character, it's just really funny once your realize that he could have been replaced by a lamp for like 80% of the story and nothing would have changed.

[iam93percentstardust]

i don't usually do these kinds of things, but today was a nightmare of a day, so here's a vent post (it's long, so i'll put it below the read more)

the cast:

gina: PI for my research lab, was one of the very first people to catch covid back before we even knew what covid was and immediately developed long covid, is currently in her 4th year of an incredibly nasty divorce, has been so unhelpful and not present as a mentor in the last 4 years that we would all just like her to take a sabbatical please

me (alle): 6th year senior graduate student, was supposed to graduate this summer but had a nervous breakdown in the spring and deferred a semester, senior TA for gina's super special chemistry and politics class which i will inevitably wind up taking over when gina's health takes the same nosedive it's taken every semester for the last 4 years but god forbid i get paid as a lecturer, has put more hours into gina's super special chemistry and politics class than gina has which keeps me too busy to actually do anything for my dissertation

mingyu: 6th year senior graduate student, the literal definition of stoic, has had the good fortune of receiving federal funding for his project so doesn't have to TA, was also supposed to graduate this summer but gina decided to take on a new student (mina) at the last minute that he just has to train so he had to defer a semester, is so busy training mina that he doesn't have time for his own research

tessa: 4th year senior graduate student, junior TA for gina's super special chemistry and politics class, also the only graduate student who works with undergrads in the lab (she manages 6 of them), also got voluntold by gina to mentor two high school students this summer, TA + undergrads + high schoolers = no time for research, used to mentor ahmad but she is competent and he is not and it didn't end well

ahmad: 3rd year graduate student, the most incompetent man you'll ever meet despite being 10 years older than everyone else in the group (save for gina), 95% positive he faked his credentials to get into grad school because this man does not know shit despite being here for three years, this man poured liquid nitrogen down the drain and nearly ruined the 100 year old pipes in this building, this man told tessa's undergrads to catch concentrated hydrochloric acid with their bare hands, this man does not understand the concept of playing well with others and putting other people first, if there's an interpersonal conflict in the lab it's because he started it

mina: technically 3rd year graduate student but decided to abruptly switch research groups because apparently there are no jobs in inorganic chemistry anymore so she needs a biochem group (we are not biochem) ((and she refused to change her project so her research is still inorganic chemistry so i'm not sure what good this is doing))

kiara and darya: technically 2nd year graduate students but did the same thing as mina, not super relevant but i'll mention their names at one point or another, the most recent people to join the group three months ago

the background:

a month ago, tessa was supposed to give group meeting. gina cancelled that group meeting however, just like she's cancelled all but a handful of our group meetings for the last four years (i think i can probably count on two hands the number of group meetings we've had since her arrest. maybe). this would usually mean that tessa would present at the next group meeting, but gina cancelled that one too. for whatever reason, tessa took that to mean that she wasn't supposed to be presenting at the one two weeks ago. gina got (rightfully) pissy at her when tessa said she didn't have anything to present and hadn't even brought her computer, so gina told her to do a "chalk talk" where she outlined her entire project on the board for the high schoolers and new grad students.

(side note: gina explicitly said that chalk talks were a perfectly acceptable form of group meeting if we have new students in the lab and are trying to introduce them to each project or if we're trying to give her a summary of how far we've gotten on our project.)

i was supposed to go next for group meeting (which would have been last week), so i prepared a standard presentation with mostly data, but then i learned that we had two new grad students interviewing with us and that one of the high schoolers is interested in my research field, so i switched at the last second to a chalk talk to break down this project.

but then we got to group meeting last week and three things happened: first of all, gina apparently asked tessa to prepare a presentation on professional communication in the lab after a huge blowup between tessa and ahmad over ahmad stealing tessa's enzymes for his own project and not replacing them. secondly, out of the seven people in the lab (not including the two high schoolers), the only people who showed up in person were the three senior grad students (myself, tessa, and mingyu) so none of the new people who would have benefitted from a chalk talk were there (doubly funny that it was put together with ahmad in mind and he decided to sleep in). which would have been fine, i would have just switched to the original powerpoint presentation, except thirdly, gina decided that she needed extra time before class to get into the right headspace (since group meeting is right before class) and it became really obvious really fast that despite tessa originally thinking her part would only take 10 minutes, gina wanted to talk about everything in excruciating detail for an hour.

(side note: when i mentioned i was originally planning a chalk talk, gina was not only explicitly fine with this, but interested in seeing how i would break my work down.)

this would've meant that i would go this week, but gina said, and i directly quote, "instead of giving group meeting, alle, come meet with me personally." so we met and she reiterated that my meeting with her was instead of group meeting.

the story:

gina being the world's worst mentor, this wouldn't be the first time that she's gone back on something she said, so i was still prepared to give group meeting this morning. that is, until saturday. on saturday, she texted everyone to say that she had caught the flu and wouldn't be on campus today. yesterday, she texted us all again to remind us that she had the flu. now, given the four years of history with gina, i expected that meant that she would text us all this morning to say she was cancelling group meeting, but just in case, i made sure to wake up early enough to make it to campus on time.

this morning rolls around and she still has the flu, but wonder of wonders, she did actually want to hold group meeting but she wanted it to be short and over zoom. okay, fine. in the past, the words "short group meeting" from gina has meant that she wants a 2 minute research update from everyone and then she'll spend 20-30 minutes talking about her life and her personal problems, and we might circle back around at the end to talk about some housekeeping things (which we could have today, since conference registration in the fall is coming up). so i thought "okay, i'm off the hook until next week."

so we sit down for the zoom meeting (miracle of miracles, the four people who decided to skip out on last week's meeting (ahmad, mina, kiara, and darya (the junior grad students, for anyone counting)) were actually there) and gina immediately starts things off with "who's presenting group meeting today?" and i thought "well shit." but it's fine, it's okay, it's a little frustrating because it's a lot harder to do a chalk talk over zoom so i need to do the presentation, which is definitely not short, but it's fine.

but before i can even pull up the powerpoint, someone said "it's alle's turn from last week" (given his inability to stop himself from brown nosing and starting shit, i suspect it was ahmad) and gina. went. off. apparently the fact that i didn't already have the powerpoint pulled up and wasn't prepared to start talking as soon as we sat down meant that i was completely wholly unprepared for the entire thing. so she goes "alle why didn't you say anything when i asked? what are you supposed to be presenting? why didn't you bother to pay attention to the schedule?"

and i tried to say that i didn't say anything because i was originally planning on a chalk talk and that sends her off too because apparently, in the last week, chalk talks have become completely unacceptable to give in this group and tessa only gave one because she didn't have a computer with her during the group meeting she was supposed to present at but that doesn't mean that i can do one too, so again, clearly i'm not prepared.

this time i actually managed to get a word in edgewise, so i said "i do have a powerpoint i've been working on in the last few weeks, i just don't have it pulled up yet." hell, i could've actually shared two, depending on how long she wanted me to talk: the data one, which would've taken about an hour, and the one from the conference at the end of may, which would've been a great project summary for the new people and only about 20 minutes.

(side note: gina's never actually seen my conference presentation because she cancelled all of my group meetings where i would have practiced and "rescheduled" personal meetings i was supposed to have with her only to not go to them and didn't bother to show up to my actual talk, which i was terrified about given the aforementioned nervous breakdown.)

i was actively in the process of pulling it up, but before i can share my screen, she snaps no, once again, i've just proven that i'm unprepared and why is it always the senior grad students in this lab who are so unprepared (this is literally the first time i've ever, in seven years, been expected to present at group meeting and not been ready for it, and the sole reason i wasn't ready was because gina herself said she was sick and needed a short meeting) and why does no one in this lab (especially the senior grad students, according to her) take group meeting seriously (again, i can count on two hands the number of times we've had group meeting in four fucking years and more to the point, ahmad keeps skipping group meeting because he decides he didn't get enough sleep to go even when he's not presenting, but sure gina, the senior grad students are the ones not taking this seriously (also, remember who was present at last week's meeting and who skipped?)).

so then she goes off on mingyu because apparently the group meeting calendar that he put together isn't up to her standards. and not only does he need to do it all over again, but he needs to print it out and put it in the lab somewhere so that people stop being unprepared, even though that won't do any good given the number of times gina cancels (and the reason no one has been prepared is because she keeps cancelling and we lose track of who's supposed to present when when it's been two months since the last one, AND I WASN'T READY BECAUSE SHE SAID WAS SICK AND WANTED A SHORT MEETING).

and then she decided that we aren't having group meeting next week because she has jury duty and despite calling the courthouse, they're not letting her skip out on it (which, gina, what? no one ever gets out of jury duty by calling, that's not how jury duty in this city works). but when we have the next group meeting, tessa needs to go again to present the data from two weeks ago that she didn't present and then i need to go and, oh yeah, mina needs to go by the end of july because she has a conference and needs to practice (remember when gina cancelled all of my practices and talks with her before my conference presentation? lol yeah me too).

(side note: it has been a year and a half since ahmad last presented at group meeting, it's been a year since mina last presented, and kiara and darya have never presented despite being here for three months. every time gina resets group meeting, it's always me, tessa, or mingyu having to present.)

and then after 20 minutes of yelling at us, after all of that and making it clear that being unprepared for group meeting was unacceptable and the senior grad students were embarrassing her... gina decided she was too sick to continue with group meeting and told us all to go.

[disco-elysium-via-polls]

2. "You misrepresented information about the case. Without the Hardies' confession we'd know nothing."

KIM KITSURAGI - The lieutenant produces a pair of handcuffs...

KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER) - "Please, no." Her eyes become round with fear. She tries to back further off...

SAVOIR FAIRE [Medium: Success] - ...but there's nowhere to go. A two-story drop to the plaza mosaic -- if she could, she would've run before.

ENDURANCE [Medium: Success] - Fragile, unshielded, her voice is thin and tired.

KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER) - "I think I know who did it -- I know who shot Lely. You know it wasn't me, why would I do it? I have no motive..."

REACTION SPEED [Medium: Success]- She knows something!

"What do you know? Who shot him?"

"Kim, arrest this woman before she can say anything else." (Ignore her theory.)

KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER) - She's silent for a second -- as if looking into herself for certainty. Then, in a hushed voice, she says...

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] - Gearing up for this betrayal is hard for her.

KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER) - "Ruby."

"Why do you think it was her?"

"And *how* could she have killed him?"

"Okay. That's it for Ruby." (Wrap it up.)

KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER) - "She has this *thing* for me -- ever since I met her and the boys downstairs. She's been pretty frank about what she wants..."

+5 XP

ELECTROCHEMISTRY [Medium: Success] - What she's saying is -- sex?

"Sex?"

"And what is that?"

KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER) - "And more." She nods. "I made the mistake of confiding in her -- I told her I was on the run. She started *protecting* me. It became an unhealthy relationship."

"When I started spending time with Lely," she says in a near-whisper, "she told me to end it. Said there would be *shit* if I didn't. It was not a good meeting. We stopped talking after that, but..."

KIM KITSURAGI - "I don't understand." The lieutenant sounds incredulous. He still has the cuffs in his hand. "What exactly in your relationship made you think she's romantically interested in you?"

KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER) - "She said she's in love with me. She even asked me to run away with her, when I told her I'm a fugitive. She started developing... *notions* about our relationship."

KIM KITSURAGI - "And you led her on?" The lieutenant narrows his eyes.

KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER) - "A little. I was flattered, you know. But then I had to let her off and it was *not* easy. I came to regret being friendly with her." She looks at her feet. "We maybe kissed. Nothing more."

SUGGESTION [Medium: Success] - Yes, but what was their relationship *outside* this unequal power dynamic?

"What was your relationship like? Before this conflict?"

"Sounds like she was fixated on you."

"This is just sensationalism and guesses."

"I don't know what to make of this."

KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER) - "We spent a lot of time together. Listening to the radio and such. She had great milieus. And she was good company. I was sorry it had to end..." She pauses.

DRAMA - What was that question about? She's feeding her friend to the wolves here.

VOLITION [Easy: Success] - It also has startlingly little to do with arresting her, you suddenly realize...

3. "This is just sensationalism and guesses."

KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER) - "I know what it sounds like. That's why I didn't want to tell you before." She raises her eyes to meet yours. "But she *knew* what had happened -- when I came downstairs."

"Somehow she *knew* Lely was dead. She wasn't surprised at all. When we came up here she was calm as a stone too. She cleaned it all up, like she had a... plan."

LOGIC [Medium: Success] - This is a familiar theory. You had it too, remember? Could it be that Ruby was covering up after herself? The lynching...

VOLITION [Easy: Success] - Yet again you're coming up with this... The worst thing is -- it may be true?

2. "When Ruby said there would be 'shit' happening if you didn't end your relationship with the deceased -- was she threatening you?"

KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER) - "She came over one night. Drunk. Said she'd turn my life into a *living hell*. I've been threatened before, so I can tell when someone *knows* how to do it."

"And she's a pro. She must be. To keep the Hardies in line. I tried severing ties with her after that. I thought it had worked, but…" She looks through the window of her room.

HALF LIGHT [Easy: Success] - Some of that fear is still with her. She exhales sharply...

DRAMA - What are you talking about? She's afraid you'll *arrest* her.

3. "And *how* could she have killed him?"

KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER) - "You've been through there, right? I saw you come out." She points to the door that leads to the pinball workshop. "It leads downstairs."

"She could have come to the roof through that, then made the shot right here, where I stand. It was dark outside, I wouldn't have seen her."

SAVOIR FAIRE [Easy: Success] - Then slipped back downstairs without anyone noticing? That *is* possible...

KIM KITSURAGI - "Interesting theory. Did she know that door exists? Had you been out here -- with her?"

KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER) - "Yes, of course. She's been up here many times, jacking private stations off the ring antenna. She used to come here, to drink on the roof with me. Before it got... weird."

4. "Okay. That's it for Ruby." (Wrap it up.)

VOLITION - Okay? And WHAT?!?

DRAMA - Arrest the liar! Now.

AUTHORITY [Easy: Success] - Don't arrest her. Push her a bit more but then let her off. That Ruby theory was solid. (And she's beautiful.)

SAVOIR FAIRE [Medium: Success] - She's stuck here. She's already in prison -- look around! She's only trying to help you...

Who?

"That's all good, but I think we should still take you in -- just in case." (Step a little bit closer.)

"Okay, I'll keep you here, miss. For now." (Back off completely.)

VOLITION - Her! Stop letting her distract you.

That's all good, but I think we should still take you in -- just in case." (Step a little bit closer.)

KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER) - "*Still...*" she says, her voice breaking. "After all this. Sir, please... it's a shitty world and I know I'm shitty too, I know..." Her hand turns into a fist, slowly, crushing the cigarette she's still holding.

"But I don't deserve to be sent to the Moralintern and ground into paste just because I disturbed the *sanctity* of accounting. At some multinational..."

DRAMA - She's gearing up for a last stand. This is it.

"What do you deserve then?"

"What *other* option do I have?"

"I've made my choice." (Decide what to do with her.)

KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER) - "I don't know..." She throws away the cigarette. "To spend my days with smoke and drink and dance -- wallowing in shit. Just like everyone else."

2. "What *other* option do I have?"

KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER) - "You have those *station calls*, right? Where I have to show up at the station or I'll become a fugitive. You can write me one. You don't have to take me in right now... I promise I won't go out anymore, at night. I'll be right here."

"I know you can do that -- just let me come in on my own. In two months. Or maybe even one month. That's all I need..."

KIM KITSURAGI - "You do have the form..." He looks at your ledger.

VOLITION - That's it. I'm calling it. Kim is beyond compromised.

DRAMA - Definitely, sire.

3. "What will have changed in two months? Or one month?"

KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER) - "*Everything* could change." She looks around. "This city, the extradition rules... The people after me could be in jail. Or maybe Revachol..." She falls silent.

EMPATHY [Easy: Success] - There is desperation there -- in that silence. A cornered animal looking for a way out.

KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER) - "Maybe Revachol could be free? I could be tried in a free Revachol? An independent state that doesn't hand its detainees over to the Moralintern."

SHIVERS [Medium: Success] - A free Revachol... There is a low, distant rumble on the motor tract. A great machine, shaking the pillars down south. Electricity runs up your spine.

KIM KITSURAGI - "I find that hard to believe, miss." The handcuffs jingle in his hands...

What was that feeling?

"I also find it hard to believe."

"I do like the sound of that… another Revachol. Free. Independent."

"Not on my watch."

"This has got nothing to do with anything."

SHIVERS -

IT'S COMING.

2. "I do like the sound of that... another Revachol. Free. Independent."

KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER) - "The world can change. It's changed before." Her round light brown eyes shining with tears.

DRAMA - Her political overture has succeeded, we see?

VOLITION - This was her last card. There is nothing more she can say. The final decision is yours -- you alone stand on the throne of your Mind.

4. "I've made my choice." (Decide what to do with her.)

KLAASJE (MISS ORANJE DISCO DANCER) - She looks at you in silence, her face filled with fear, lips parted...

LOGIC [Easy: Success] - Wait! If you arrest her, Kim will have to transport her. You'd be without your partner for the rest of the day...

DRAMA - SHUT UP! He's making a decision and it's *his* to make.

[britswriting]

Fallen For You | H.S AU - One

Fallen For You Masterlist

Read on Wattpad

Description/warnings

Rancher!HarryxPlus-sized!OC

~

🦋Delaney🦋

Finding out your crush for the past 5 years is finally working on your family Ranch almost sent me into cardiac arrest. 

The first time I met Harry, I knew he was attractive; but he was the new guy and I knew everyone would fawn over him. I mean, just look at him!

Dreamy hair, dreamy eyes, dreamy muscles.... but then I didn't see him again.

It wasn't until he moved to the Rickman's ranch that the feelings developed. I started seeing him anytime I had to deliver milk, or bread. 

Sure my feet might've dragged a little bit, or my gaze lingered just a second too long, but he never acknowledged it; having been too busy discussing things with Chase Rickman, and my dad.

For years my dad has been trying to get Harry to move ranches. Swindle Harry a good deal, tell him that he didn't have to be treated like meat and muscle for the strict Ranch owner or the Ranch owners daughters. The Rickman's were basically slave owners. The only difference is they paid well; something the rest of the town couldn't compete with.

Was a good paycheck worth being treated like shit? 

I sometimes questioned what Harry got out of it. Was being overworked and sexually harassed worth a warm bed and a good meal if you could get it from somewhere else? I question his integrity. His self worth and just how badly he needed a well paying paycheck. Especially in a town that ran off of getting ingredients from your neighbors.

The questions only rose when my dad burst through the kitchen door three weeks ago announcing he had finally gotten Harry Styles to agree to leave the Rickman's ranch with a few conditions.

1: He would have his own living quarters; meaning we had a lot of work to do.

2: He would have a warm meal each night

3: He would have one day off a week, preferably Sunday's which rose the question "Is he religious?"

"Mm! That's good, Laney." My twin sister Wrenlynn hummed, sneaking another swipe of my batter.

"Stop!" I whined, swiping the mixing bowl away from her, holding it protectively at my side. "It's not for you!" I scowled, turning to work at the other side of the counter.

"Yeah, yeah. It's for Mr. Cowboy." She teased, her smug grin painting a blush across my cheeks, my nose wrinkling as I shook my head. "Shut up! It is too!" She laughed, inching closer to me as I ignored her, "You know he doesn't mingle with his employers, right?"

"Good thing I'm not his employer then." I quipped back, "Dad and Grandma are."

"Be serious, Delaney! Don't embarrass yourself like the Rickman girls!" Wrenlynn warned as I spooned the brownie batter into an oblong cake pan. "Can I have the spoon at least?" She pleaded, sitting down on the backless black metal swivel barstool.

I passed her the spoon, shoving the pan into the oven as I set a timer, Wrenlynn speaking up again, "Come on Laney. Don't be mad at me."

"I'm not mad." I mumbled, taking a deep breath, turning to look over at her, my voice fell soft, "You compared me to the Rickman's."

Allison and Natalie Rickman were girls around our age who lived two ranches over from us. Their dad had coaxed Harry to work for them and word quickly traveled around town at the disgusting things the girls did to get his attention. Things like making off handed sexual comments, to walking by windows naked where he was working. How can Wrenlynn compare me making him brownies to practically shoving my tits in his face?

"Delaney, I didn't say you were the Rickman's. I said don't be the Rickman's."

"I'm not!" I frowned, "I just made brownies. What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing's wrong with making brownies, Delaney. It's just... you've done a lot." She noted, "You worked your ass off in that guest house with mom. I mean, Mimi said you were barely at the market lately! He's just another stupid boy, Delaney. Don't bust your ass for a guy who won't care."

"You don't know that he won't care." I argued back, shrinking a little when Wren tossed me a look. "Okay, okay! This is the last thing I'll make!" I swore, insecurity creeping up as I scanned the plethora of baked goods I made. "To be fair, some of these are for the market!"

"How many are for the market?"

"Uh.." I chewed on my lower lip, scanning the baked goods.

"Delaney! He's gonna be diabetic if you give him all that! We're out of flour and sugar ya know?! Pick one that you give to him, the rest needs to go to the market."

"How can I pick just one?! What if he doesn't like it?!" I worried, Wrenlynn groaning.

"Oh my god, it's not that serious!"

"It is too! First impressions mean everything, Wrenlynn!"

"Delaney! He isn't going to remember you at all!" She shouted, my eyes widening as my lips parted, Wrenlynn quickly matching my expression. "Delaney..." She said softly, tears welling up in my eyes and I nodded, trying to pull myself together.

"No. You're right. It can all go to the market." I mumbled, slipping past her and quickly pushing open the wooden storm door, hearing it slam behind me as I b-lined it down the path to the guest house only to abruptly stop, the sight of Harry and my dad conversing near the barn causing my breath to hitch.

I can't meet Harry like this!

I quickly spun around on my heel, coming to a halt again when my mom walked out the kitchen door, some sort of envelope in her hand.

"Delaney!" She grinned, "Come on, sweetheart! Let's go meet our new rancher." She urged, her hand grabbing my own as she pulled me with her.

"Mom! Please! I don't think that's a good idea!" I rushed, tripping over my own feet, struggling to keep up with her quick strides.

I could feel her eyes roll from a mile away, and before I knew it I was standing right in front of my crush, flushed cheeks and all as my father began to introduce us.

Oh god.

"Harry, this is my wife Theresa, and daughter Delaney." My dad pointed at us both as he said our name, Harry giving us a curt nod as my mom greeted him.

I stood there awkwardly until my moms big fat mouth opened again, "She's spent the past few days setting up the guest house, so if you have any questions about where things are, feel free to ask Delaney. I'm sure she'll be overjoyed to help you!"

Oh my god. Overjoyed? Really mom?! Can the ground just swallow me whole?

Might as well just tell the man I've been in love with him since I knew what a crush was!

Harry gave my mom another curt nod, focusing back on my dad.

Literally kill me.

"Feel free to get settled in tonight and we can start fresh tomorrow," Dad said. "Delaney will take you to your guest house." Why me? Dad turned to look at me, "Delaney, you have the key, correct?" Oh. That's why. I quickly nodded, swallowing the saliva that began to accumulate in the back of my throat as I looked away from the gorgeous man.

Harry was in some long — yet tight in all the right places — blue Jeans. They appeared worn at the knees, the material that covered his thighs had a tinge of brown brushed across them. Some slightly heeled ‐ what I can only assume to be cowboy boots, and an all white loose fitted shirt bunched up slightly at his belt buckle, raising an eyebrow from me. Why would you wear white? The fabric hugged his arms and pecks in a delicious way that caused my eyes to linger, before it became looser at his waist.

His dark brown hair in messy waves at the top of his head, appearing to be slightly damp. God imagine him showering... all wet with water dripping down his naked body; his hands running through his slick backed hair before grabbing his shampoo... When he turned to face my dad, I noticed his sides appeared to be recently shaven to give more of a faded look. My mouth watering all over again at the idea of running my hands through his curls, or leaving a lipstick mark against his fade—

Moms hand waving in front of my face cut my thoughts short as I heard, "Delaney? Earth to Lane!"

"Hm?" I hummed, feeling my face heat up as I felt his green eyes laser locked on me, a scowl etched into his godlike complexation.

God damnit Delaney.

"Please take Harry to his guest house," she said, and I swallowed yet again, nodding as I turned around to walk to what was now his residence on our ranch.

I peaked over my shoulder, seeing he was still standing with my parents; "Are you coming or not?" I yelled out, catching a quick glimpse of his eyebrows scrunching before I looked away, picking up my pace as my stomach began to whirl.

You did not just yell at him, Delaney! What are you thinking?

"First impressions mean everything" as you yell at him!

Stupid stupid stupid

"Already bustin' my balls huh?" His raspy voice made me jump.

God he walks fast.

"What?" I gasped, snapping my neck to look at him, the two of us walking in strides down the loose gravel path.

"You're bustin' my balls already" he repeated, his rich, buttery smooth drawl with the smallest undertone of rasp as he began talking, made my knees wobble.

"What do you mean?" I asked, worried I've already screwed the entire family over because I stupidly snapped at the devilishly handsome man.  

I so badly wanted to sit on a soft picnic blanket sprawled out in the luscious green grass field, his head in my lap as I played with his hair, feeding him strawberries and enjoying the beautiful sunshine and the sunkissed warmth that'd leave a beautiful golden tan imprinted on our skin. 

"First you daydream, and then yell at me as if we weren't all waiting on you." he snickered, my stomach clenching, a pit forming in my throat. 

Shit. Does he already think I'm annoying?

"Oh.. uh, sorry," I muttered. "I tend to um.. tune my dad out when he talks ranch stuff. You grow up around it, it's all you hear. Can get boring at times," I admitted. 

You did not just say that to a rancher, Delaney!

I couldn't help but mentally scold myself as I continued to fumble over everything I've told myself not to do. 

The silence began to get loud as my brain began to race.

Am I talking too much? Should I ask him about himself? Or is that a bad idea? and what does he mean by busting his balls? I wasn't giving him a hard time... right? Shit. was I? Delaney! You can't go bossing around the guy you've had a crush on since he moved into town! Dad will have my neck if I drive this boy away by my annoying habits after how much effort was put into getting this godsent rancher to occupy our now guest house.

"You're doing it again." he hummed, pulling me back into reality.

"Sorry um.. well.. this is uh, it." I stopped in front of a quite literal tiny house.

Silence was truly my worst enemy, and Harry Styles screamed it.

Was it too small? Did he want better? What were his previous ranchers' guest houses like?

Maybe he had those silk sheets royalty used, and those amazing thread count pajamas. Something so truly magical that this place looked like a pig's den to him. 

I eyed my crystal clear windows that I spent far too long washing, the fresh coat of white paint along the trim of the front door. Mimi and I even went out of our way to get a clean welcome mat outside the front door.

I thought it looked nice.

I mean, it looked better than it used to look. It was never really occupied, it was more so used as another storage shed all up until about two weeks ago when my dad dropped the news that Harry was officially and finally our new ranch hand, sending my family into full panic mode as we began to prepare for him.

The entire town knows how much of a pain in the ass he is. I mean, he's one of the best at what he does, which made up for how much manual labor we had to put into our ranch, making sure it was up to his standards by the time he got here. I've never seen my dad so stressed, or my grandma for that matter.

Finically, we couldn't risk it being anything but perfect. Harry leaving wasn't an option. 

"So is this just something you do? Space out so we can get nothing done? It's incredibly annoying," Harry stated. "Can I just have the key, and you can leave me alone and go daydream somewhere else?"

Oh.

It's incredibly annoying.

and you can leave me alone.

Go somewhere else.

Way to go Delaney. Took all of 10 minutes before you've gone and pissed him off. 

I wish I could say that was a new record.

"Sorry" I murmured, slipping the key out of my jean jacket, handing it to him. I watched him step up to the door, pushing the key in, "You have to shove it in and kinda push upwards. It uh, gets stuck sometimes. We'll fix it, promise." I instructed, my chest tightening when I heard him huff, attempting to follow instructions, a minute passed and he was still unable to open it. "Do you need help?" I offered.

I watched his shoulder blades tense under his shirt as his body stilled, an audible gulp being heard from me as my stomach fluttered, watching him struggle.

We're toast. This is it. This is his final straw with me—

"You fucking do it." He grumbled, leaving the key in the lock as he stepped away, standing behind me which his arms crossed over his chest.

I took the key out, pushing it back in, shoving it up and giving it a slight wiggle... oh, I guess I forgot that part, and twisting it to unlock it, the door opening.

"This shit is getting fixed tonight." Harry warned, shoving past me.

I apprehensively walked in with him, the floors practically glistening from their recent wash.

I placed the key on the white counter next to the door, Harry's muddy boots walking right across my freshly cleaned floors.

I cringed.

Hold your tongue, Delaney.

"This it?" He asked, turning to face me as he stood in the makeshift living room.

"Uh.. yeah. I uh, I know it isn't much–"

"You're fucking right it isn't." he scoffed, shaking his head. "Is there even a fucking bed in this dump?" He asked, or.. stated? I wasn't sure.

Dump?

I frowned, looking around our freshly cleaned, painted, and detailed guest house.

What was wrong with it?

Sure it was small, but I didn't think it was a dump.

I'd argue it was nicer, and much more up to date than our own farmhouse. 

At least this place had instant hot water unlike our farmhouse.

There's nothing quite like ending the day, covered in sweat, dirt, and god knows what else, having to wait 15 minutes on a good day for the hot water to MAYBE reach my shower. 

"The uh.. couch.. has a pull out bed." I started, watching his eyes quickly turn into a glare, "There are these uh.. stairs." I slipped off my shoes at the little mat in front of the door, careful not to slip on the clean floors in my socks as I walked to the door by the bathroom that was on the opposite side of the living room, a small set of low stairs leading from the bathroom door, "It's a loft like space? The ceiling is pretty low.. but I mean, you could put a mattress up there." I finished, my left hand resting on the rail as my right foot propped up on the step.

"So there's no actual bed." he stated, not bothering to even make it sound like a question.

This man was a ticking time bomb and I held my breath awaiting the explosion.

"There's a place to sleep." I shot back, getting frustrated by how much he was putting down all our effort to make this space nice for him.

Surely it was better than the horse barn we could've tossed him in. There was a loft up there that we stored extra hay bales in for winter. I'm sure he would've been a lot more comfortable in the hay than the suggested pull out couch at this rate.

Harry met me at the stairs, practically squishing me against the wall due to the lack of room as he began to climb the stairs, already crouching as he reached the third step.

"Jesus christ," he grumbled.

"Watch your head!" I called out right as there was a thud followed by a hissed out curse word. "You okay?" I called, climbing up the stairs only to have a full view of Harry's ass, my eyes landing on his back jeans pockets. "Going up?" I questioned, backing down a few stairs as Harry turned around, one stair away from being back where I started.

"I fucking can't. This place is so fucking small, I don't even fit!" He groused, my lips tugging up into a small smile when his forehead creased.

"You crawl," I snickered, Harry narrowing his eyes at me.

"I'm no bitch baby, I'm not fucking crawling."

"Fine. Then don't use it."

"It's not even fucking useable, Delaney!" He exclaimed, my eyes widening slightly at the sound of my name falling off his lips for the first time, a frown beginning to take over when I realized how much aggravation his tone had when he said it.

"It is usable. I used to play up there all the time as a kid," I argued back.

"Yeah, as a fucking kid. Try being a six foot man." He grumbled, climbing back down the stairs, once again pushing me against the wall on — what I'm hoping to be — accident, walking back to the front door. "This simply won't fucking do." he huffed, opening the door and walking out.

My feet quickly carried me after him, snatching the key and whipping the door open, awkwardly running after him, wincing every time a rock impaled my foot as he marched towards my father. 

"Harry! Please! Wait!" I yelled, beginning to pant due to how out of shape I was.

Running was not made for me.

"—It's too fucking small!" Harry told my dad, running over to him like a tattling toddler as I caught my breath, catching the tail end of whatever Harry was telling him.

"It is not!" I huffed, my dad eyeing the two of us like he used to eye my siblings and I when we'd argue over something stupid.

"Mr. Styles may I remind you you're a 28 year old man?" Dad said, Harry quickly jumped in, "That's right! A fucking 28 year old, six foot two, man who doesn't fucking fit in that rabbit shack!"

"You're being unreasonable!" I argued back, shocked where all this boldness came from.

One second it's beautiful brown curly hair I can't help but want to run my fingers through and next I'm ready to send his ungrateful ass packing back to the Rickman's.

Screw him! I worked hard on that place! 

"I HIT MY HEAD ON THE FUCKING CEILING!" He shouted, both my dad and I's eyes widening. My dad bringing his hand to Harry's shoulder, "Harry–"

"I warned you!" I defended, Harry's nostrils flaring, his lips parting as my dad quickly beat him to the next said word.

"Harry, we aren't made of money unlike the Rickman's. The girls worked hard to make that rabbit shack a home and meet as many of your demands as possible. We would've given you the guest room in the main house — I don't know if you recall but one of your demands was your own place. It was that or the barn, and if it isn't good enough then you need to get off your damn high horse and learn you're not worth emptying my pockets for like that. I'm already wearing myself thin with you; when I shouldn't have to. If it's that big of a problem, go back to the Rickman's where they sexually harass and overwork you — the whole town knows, Harry." My dad explained when Harry gave him a quick alarmed look, "If you as much disrespect my family or my animals, your ass will be strung on the damn hook in front of town. Do you understand me?" Dad warned, Harry's jaw tight as he nodded, turning around on his heel and quite literally stomping back to the rabbit shack.

Dad turned to me, asking, "Are you alright?" And when I nodded his eyes narrowed at me, "Now Delaney Nicole Fallen, you are 26 years old. You are old enough to know better than to start some bullshit with the rancher! He's here to help us. He has his problems, we knew that. I'm not saying be a pushover, but you also need to pull it together and figure out how we're going to fix it; rather than drive him away! I know I told Harry he needs to get off high horse but you know just as much as I do how much we need his help. Can you try and make this transfer easier, please? I've already paid him his first check. That's a lot of money to lose out on just for his ungrateful ass to go wandering back to those cock suckers—"

"Dad!" I shrieked, my cheeks flushing at his foul language. 

His eyes rolled, "You know what I'm saying." he said, myself nodding, "Wren will take your place at the market whilst you show Harry around on the farm, alright?"

"What? I thought you were doing that?" I questioned, completely blindsided by this new task I was given.

Surely he isn't just tossing me into the wolves with my crush, right?!

"I have to go to the Fosters and help with their hoof maintenance on their horses. I was supposed to be their yesterday, but you know Mimi and all her fucking shenanigans," He huffed, "Could barely find time in my day to eat let alone go a few ranches over and help out."

I nodded, my lips pursed, "So I have to do what?"

"Show Harry the reins. How we do things, how we use our animals. Has Louie already been a little shit?" He asked, myself chuckling as I shook my head.

Louie was my mothers' beloved long haired brown chihuahua. He was our only dog that didn't have a single job on the ranch but to be a pain in everyone's ass; and he did it well.

"Louie is with Grandma."

"Good, keep that ankle biter away from my rancher before he tries to run for the fucking hills again. I just need him to know where things are, and Morgan is busy at Gavin's family's for the weekend. I'm not asking for much–"

"He hated my house, dad," I reminded, offended that he thought this was a simple task.

Not only do I now have to be in close proximity with a guy who I've liked for far too long, but I've also gotten first hand experience with his notorious asshole attitude that hits just the right switch in me to make me forget all about his godlike appearance.

"Lane, if he truly hated it, he wouldn't have stomped back to it. He would've marched his overly expensive cowboy boots back to the Rickman's. Don't take his bullshit to heart, alright? Whatever he has going on isn't worth losing sleep over. Just make sure he's taking care of everything properly. You'll need to feed the dogs and cats. Harry said he won't do that," Dad informed me, my jaw dropping a little.

"What?! Why?"

"He said it wasn't a part of his job description." my dad's eyes rolled again, my brow furrowing.

"It is, though?"

"I don't fucking know, Delaney. I just know I love those rascals more than I should. Speaking of, their grooming appointment was made on Tuesday. You and Keegan need to help your mother wrangle them up. Also, tell Harry that means he'll have to take over the dogs jobs with the cattle and sheep whilst they're gone." he reminded me and I nodded, my hands stuffed in my jean pockets when I felt something metal.

Shit, his key

Before I could even process what I was holding, the sound of cowboy boots dragging against the gravel got louder.

"You locked me out of my own fucking house." he grumbled, glaring at me.

"No. I grabbed it so you didn't lock yourself out of your own house." I shot back, the key now in hand.

"Whatever. Let me in so I can get this shit over with." he huffed, not waiting for a response before turning around to walk away again.

I turned to my dad, my jaw tight, "I don't care how pretty his toned abs are, or how helpful he is on this ranch. I'm ready to murder him, I swear to god." I warned darkly, dad chuckling with a head shake.

"Breathe, Delaney. You'll make it out alive, promise. Now go let him in before he busts a window."

* * * *

Written on: July 18th, 26th, 28th, August 6th, 7th, September 8th, 2023, July 24th 2024

Published on: September 8th 2023 Republished: July 29th 2024

Word Count: 4.2k

Two

[criminalmindswhore]

What just happened?

Jemily!

Emily and JJ had been undercover at a club in LA for almost an hour and nothing seemed to stick out. The rest of the team were watching through the security cameras as a man approached the two of you who were dancing but also profiling. "Hi, ladies!" The two stopped dancing and JJ almost vomited at the scent he gave off. "Which of you lucky ladies wanna come home with me tonight." He leaned against a nearby table and smiled proudly. "Look at their faces, something's off." Morgan pointed out how the female agents were trying to contain their facial expressions. Emily was trying to figure out this guy and JJ immediately recognized the scent, death. "I'm sorry my man but we're both taken." He stood straight up and got angry fast, "So two hot girls, come to the club, not looking for a hookup? That's bullshit, you're lying to me." Emily laughed, "Women are allowed to go out just to dance and have fun together." He shook his head and started talking with his hands rambling on about how the two were sluts for that. JJ eventually stepped in, "You don't ever, call my girlfriend," she grabbed Emily's hand, "a slut. Got it?" The man stopped moving and sighed, "Oh so you're dykes?" The two nodded and an "duh" kind of way. "Even better." He grabbed JJ's wrist and tried to pull her into him. He didn't succeed as Emily punched his wrist to make him let go. "Hotch move in, it's him." Emily spoke. "What the hell? You're cops?" JJ pulled out a pair of handcuffs from her purse, "Actually," she passed them to Emily who now had him face down on the table, "we're FBI."

As the handcuffs clinked shut the rest of the team walked to them and Morgan grabbed the guy, at this point everyone in the club was watching them, some even recording. "Joshua Livingston you are under arrest for the murders of 8 women." As Morgan started the Miranda Rights and walked him out of there, Emily spoke to Hotch, "I'm gonna go take a second in the bathroom before we leave." The team knew she was gay so it was understandable, he called them dykes. Emily was attacked in high school by some kids in Germany. They carved the word dyke into her back. It was small but painful. So she got her first of 4 tattoos. JJ followed her and pushed the door open before Emily could lock it. JJ locked it behind her as Emily laid her head against the wall steaming with anger. "A dyke? Is dyke the worst he could've done? Not a sinner or disgusting, anything would hurt less." JJ was the only one who knew what happened in Germany. Emily started pacing, "Those kids in Germany ruined my life for me. They outed me to my mother and made me develop an eating disorder for pretty much all of college until I got my tattoo." The team stopped in their tracks realizing Emily and JJ left their mics on and they could hear everything. They didn't know what to do, so no one moved. "Emily, I know it's a painful word, but it's just a stupid word. You shouldn't let it affect you this much. Fuck the word."  Emily snickered, "You can't fuck a word Jay." She received a slap on the arm for that. "But seriously thank you JJ."

The two hugged and as they started to pull away, it felt as though someone was pushing them closer together. JJ swallowed as Emily pulled her against her by her waist and started to lean in. JJ met her in the middle and their lips collided. Emily's hands rested on JJ's waist as JJ pulled her hands up to cup the brunette's face and eventually tangled in her hair as the two kissed for what seemed like ages. "What just happened?" Rossi asked as he pulled the earpiece out. "I guess we'll find out soon enough," Spencer said with a smirk and took his out too. The two kissing agents eventually pulled away with swollen lips and breathless. Realization hit Emily a little too late when her eyes landed on the mic pinned to the blonde's dress. "Shit. JJ, our mics." JJ stepped back and picked the mic up to her mouth, Morgan was still standing listening and laughing at the twos realizing the mics were on. "Derek Morgan you're a perv." JJ's voice very loudly came through the earpiece and Morgan winced in pain before ripping it out. The females laughed and walked outside. "You're a jerk." Morgan bluntly stated as they exited the doors. "And you're a perv. Let's go home." They all laughed and flooded into the SUVs no one wanting to talk about the kiss.

[sherwoodknights]

SP 1999 EPISODE 4 LIVEBLOG

And we are back!!!! Been a couple of days but I'm super excited to see what happens now

Yessss you go you random man you hit chauvvy with your gun for no reason!!!

HELENE IS WITH THE FOREST REBELS?????

GO OFF GIRL TEAR HIM APART!!!

"God is on our side!" "Then why are you losing?" Damnnnnnn

ALUCARD FROM CASTLEVANIA IS BACK AND HE IS BEING A WHINY BITCH

Awwww him and Helene are kinda cute tho <33333

They are my new stupid babygirl otp actually <333

Coughy fucker be GONE!

NOOOOO GABRIELLE IS AT THE CONVENT WE'RE ALL FUCKED

Gabrielle is 2 seconds from backhanding a nun and that's honestly iconic

Oh fuck they're searching it they're gonna find Margot

Yep they've got her

MARGOT WHY CAN'T YOU MANAGE 2 SECONDS WITHOUT BEING ARRESTED SMH

Chauvelin has a talent for hitting nerves my god

HELENE YOU IDIOT HES GOING TO FIGURE OUT ITS YOU IF YOU ARENT CAREFUL

Percy and Andrew swordfighting, I am looking respectfully <33333

He just wants his wife back goddammit

Jesus christ that's a lot of dead nuns

Damn they didn't even bother to give Margot papers that were convincing

DONT SLAP MY WIFE JUST BECAUSE SHE CALLES YOU A BITCH GABRIELLE

YES ALUCARD YOU ATTACK THOSE HEATHENS OR WHATEVER I BELIEVE IN YOU <333

Oooo Chavvy getting told again

COUGHY FUCKER STOP STABBING PEOPLE CHALLENGE

Percy really just walked in and demanded to see Gabrielle and it worked

OH SHIT HES IMPERSONATING CHAVELIN AJDJDJSNDBJDIEEND

Stop flirting with the hot evil woman!!!!! But also honestly who wouldn't

"Be careful" "I'm always careful" actual literal lies but okay whatever you say

DONT GIVE IT AWAY MARGOT YOU CAN DO IT I BELIEVE IN YOU

Percy bigging up the Pimpernel while he's in disguise <3333

"Resourceful beyond belief, a thorn in the side of the Republic-" "and altogether too big for his boots" SIR ANDREW FFOULKES YOU WILL ALWAYS BE FAMOUS

They're all enjoying the Chavelin disguise ploy way too much and it's amazing

DONT TOUCH MY WIFE GABRIELLE

OH SHIT REAL CHAUVELIN IS AT THE GATE ASKING TO SEE HER

THEY'RE GONNA CONVINCE HER THAT CHAUVVY IS PERCYYYYYY

YES MARGOT GET HIMMMM

YES GABRIELLE BACKHAND CHAUVELIN LIKE A GIRLBOSS

More Henri and Helene content wooooooooo

Gabrielle why are you locking the door

PERCY NO

GET AWAY FROM HER CLEAVAGE YOU HAVE A WIFEEEE

OH SHIT YOU GO PERCY

Sexiest prison break out there tbh

Rip to Gabrielle what a loser

Shut the fuck up don't you dare hurt Henri or he'll Alucard your ass

Nvm Henri is so pathetic but that's why i love him <333 wet rag of a man

Oh their plan is going to go so horribly wrong isn't it, they're so fucked

BREAKING NEWS: Pathetic Boyfriend and His Catholic Peasant Boy Band Lose So Hard It Hurts

NOOOOOO SHE SHOT MY BOY

Honestly Helene knows what she wants at least

HELENE WHY WOUKD YOU GO TO THE MIDDLE OF A BATTLE YOU IDIOT

BREAKING NEWS: Reinforcements Doomed To Pathetically Fail

NOOOOO THEY SHOT HENRI RIGHT IN THE CHEST

HELENE DONT RUN TO HIM DO YOU WANT TO DIE

AND HELENES BEEN SHOT AS WELL NOW

BREAKING NEWS: My Favourite Pathetic Loser Couple Are Doomed

Awwwwww Chauvvy cares about Helene and wants her to be safe, that's what we call character development boys and girls

BEGONE GABRIELLE

GO CHAUVVY

HE SHOT GABRIELLE MY GOD

Pathetic teary-eyed Chauvelin is best Chauvelin?????

Maybe I can possibly forgive him for killing Tony a little bit

Helene my babygirl dont leave me like this

BREAKING NEWS: This OTP Has No Fucking Survivors What The Fuck

Episode 4 is finished and with it comes the end of the second 2-parter!!!!

This one was an absolute roller coaster and had me feeling a lot of emotions, but I enjoyed it nonetheless, shoutout to this shows ability to get me invested in a couple that have only been together on screen for a single episode

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸🩸

39 for Vampires!

SPOILERS AHEAD:

----

“What is she saying?” Eddie asks.

“Spontaneous Elimination sounds like dying,” May says. “Or being killed.”

“Or shitting your pants,” Eddie whispers. 

Everyone gives him an unamused look.

“Oh, come on,” he protests. “It does.” 

“This stage is characterized by sudden and random cardiac arrest, restart, and seeming total elimination of the Hemodhampirosis infection.” Dr. Mikhailov says. “These individuals appear, to all tests and in all ways, to be cured.”

Athena lets out a shaky little gasp. Bobby grabs her hand. 

Buck feels dizzy.

“Is she kidding?” Eddie asks.

“Kind of a horrible thing to kid about,” May replies weakly. 

“Again, we do not know why this happens. We do not know if all patients will one day experience this. In the meantime, the CDC and affiliated organizations are putting extensive time and resources into seeing if a cure or vaccine can be developed. Considering we still do not know the origins of the disease, this is an ongoing challenge. Right now, prevention is our best weapon in fighting further spread.”

Buck inhales deeply. Nothing has changed. It could change, but they can’t rely on it. He can’t rely on or hope for Eddie’s heart stopping and him waking up from that, cured. He has to go forward as planned. That’s the only acceptable course of action at this point. 

“However, at this point, it is the CDC’s belief that, beyond Stage Two, victims suffering from Hemodhampirosis can and should be rehabilitated into normal society. With measures in place to continue prevention of infection and violence, Hemodhampirosis falls under the criteria for a disability, and those suffering are classified as having such.” 

“Good God,” Bobby exhales. “Are they saying…”

“We’ll be protected?” May asks. 

The press conference wraps up and the screen switches back to a news anchor. 

“Are we…” Eddie struggles. “Does this change anything?”

“No,” Buck and Athena say in unison.

[concussed-to-pieces]

Fandom: Boku No Hero Academia/My Hero Academia

Pairing: (Eventual) Pro Hero!Mirio/AFAB Villain!Reader

Rating: Holy shit M.

Summary: As an individual with a pretty unimpressive Quirk, it hadn't taken long for you to stray from the straight and narrow. Until, of course, a certain pro hero from your past turned up on your doorstep…

A/N: Welcome all, welcome to our second installment! If you would like to be added or removed from the tag list, please let me know 💚 Enjoy!

Tag List:   @hijackser @nonstop-haikyuu @zombiexbody @buttons-beads-lace @swift-omg-no @ectoplasmictoast @tartimaar-bloggeth @plaguedoctorsnake

Part One: Breathing Room

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains emotional duress, mentions of death and a brief implication of child endangerment. Stay safe!]

The day was hell. On top of your lack of sleep, you and your coworkers were on high alert due to the staggering power vacuum that had been left from the arrest of the majority of the Hassaikai. Three other semi-organized crime factions were already mobilizing to take over former Hassaikai territory; tensions were high and it was all you could do to even try to get work done.

After hours of unsuccessful attempts to reconnoiter a new development of open-air outlet stores, you dragged yourself home well past midnight. You were so exhausted you could feel your eyes drifting closed even as you unlocked your door, barely mustering up the energy to lock the door behind you and kick your shoes off. 

You then shuffled forward, lurching around where you knew the chairs would be in your kitchen in your grand journey to bed. Once your feet hit the edge of the linoleum, you crouched and slid beneath your sheets, paying little mind to the surprised grunt you received from…the bed? Instead of questioning further you immediately surrendered to sleep, tucking yourself against a large, warm mass and sighing as you drifted off.

…

"Uh." Mirio breathed, realizing you were somehow already asleep. Granted it was your bed, of course you would sleep in it, but-

He squinted at the clock over the stove, pursing his lips when he noted that it was just blinking 12:00. How late was it? All he could tell was that it was dark, which was wildly helpful. 

I slept through the entire day? Mirio grimaced. At least his body felt much better, less broken bone and more scraped knee. He was sure he still had some impressive redness from crying so much, but that was easy to manage. A little ice, some concealer and he would be fit for an appearance once more.

Nighteye had always thought the elaborate makeup artistry for television spots was a step too far. He said that heroes should show at least some of the damage they sustained. "If they did, maybe the public would be more willing to accept them as merely human," the severe man had mused once, and Mirio had known that he was referring to All Might. "They ask so much of us already."

Mirio felt tears well up again but he blinked them back, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and moving to stand. Then, he caught sight of the alarm clock on your bedside table, its red LED cheerily showing the time as 3:47 AM. He paused, and guiltily slipped back into position in bed. Maybe it was selfish for him to hope he could talk to you again before he turned himself in (and really, he didn't know why he had run from Deku and the rest, he wasn't exactly prone to fleeing from consequences, had he just been in fight or flight mode?), but Mirio couldn't seem to rationalize himself up out of the bed. 

So he settled down, cringing momentarily when you snuggled into his side before he carefully, carefully placed an arm around your shoulders. He was probably just warm and you were seeking it out or something.

…

Your alarm began blaring at the usual time and you blearily groped for the snooze button, your hand contacting a very human nose as you reached over…a body.

Who-?

"Ouch, easy." Mirio mumbled, brushing your hand away from his face and pressing the snooze himself. "Easy. Five more minutes." He continued, already rolling onto his side and taking you with him. The blond man's arms wrapped around your midsection, snuggling you back against his chest. You froze, almost too startled to breathe. What the hell was he doing?!

"Mirio," you finally huffed, attempting to wriggle free of the iron grip. "Mirio, you're squishing me." As if in response, his hold actually tightened and Mirio grumbled something in your ear, stubble rubbing your cheek. "Mirio-" you tried again, doing your best to ignore the goosebumps you could feel rising at the sensation of his facial hair. "Mirio, as nice as this is, I need to get ready for work."

"Mm, two more minutes." The large man reasoned sleepily, tucking his face into the side of your neck. 

You lost the battle with your goosebumps. What the hell was he doing, and why was his nose so cold-

Mirio suddenly flinched, his entire body jerking away from you like he had been burned. "Oh, oh, oh my God I'm so sorry." He babbled, bolting upright and practically sprinting into the kitchen as if to put a bit of extra distance between the two of you.

You, while rumpled and a bit confused, somewhat relished him being off-balance. Enough to throw him a little smirk over your shoulder before you rolled onto your back, anyway. "Good morning to you too." You purred, laughing at the look on his face. "Sleep well?"

"I uh, yes, yeah, r-real good." Mirio's voice squeaked and he cleared his throat. "I woke up when you came home, but I…well you were pretty tired and I didn't want to bug you." 

"How do you feel?" 

The man firmly stated, "much better, thanks. Glad I got some rest. Makes me feel like I can handle what comes now."

"Which is…?" You prompted, stretching your arms overhead.

"I'm going to go deal with what happened. With…with the Nighteye stuff. The consequences of my screw-ups." His lower lip trembled, but he seemed to quickly rein it in. "Thanks for everything you did."

You waved him off, yawning. "I was just being a friend. Any decent person would have helped you out."

Mirio raked a hand through his hair, looking perplexed. "Yeah but you…I mean, we've fought. We're not friends, at least we aren't supposed to be." He pointed out pragmatically, "We're on opposite sides of this whole…thing."

You sighed, flopping back down on the bed. "Listen, I'm not explaining how the world works to you," you muttered. "Aren't people allowed to change? Aren't people allowed to make a dumb choice every now and then, or at least a choice that doesn't benefit them? Sure, I could have told you to fuck off. Hell, I should have." Laughing a little, you continued, "after all, you cheated on me in high school. That's a logical grudge to hold, right?" 

The blond didn't seem to appreciate your humor though, his expression shifting to one of puzzlement. "I what?" Mirio asked blankly. "I absolutely didn't, you just stopped talking to me one day and wouldn't tell me why."

You stared over at him. You had just been trying to lighten the mood, make a throwaway comment to tease a bit about youthful indescretions, but he seemed genuinely bewildered. "Yeah…uh, one of the girls in your class told me that she saw you kissing someone else. Being young and hormonal, I of course had to have a week-long crying jag and cut you out of my life." You then raised your eyebrow, insisting in a sarcastic tone, "you know, the only sensible reaction to that sort of thing."

Mirio still didn't appear to find the humor in your playful teasing, his eyes wide with incredulity. "You cried for a week and never even approached me to see whether it was true or not?!" 

You winced. Well, when he put it like that, you seemed a little foolish. "Look, I wasn't a smart kid. Definitely wasn't thinking clearly. And it was for the best anyway! We wouldn't have worked out, not with how our career paths, er, diverged."

Mirio sighed, rubbing his temples. "For what it's worth," he said finally, "I didn't fool around on you. Not once. That's not something I've really ever been comfortable with."

"I'm not even sure why I believed that other kid instead of just asking you." You admitted, feeling silly for even having brought it up. "I guess I was just looking for a reason to break it off with you. What with the insecurity, the way things in my life were already so unstable…I was under a lot of pressure even then."

"I would have helped."

What the hell was that, that odd, fluttering sensation in your chest? You ducked your head quickly, nodding in reply. "Sorry, it was a dumb joke to make. I know you would have, okay? That's kind of your whole shtick." You couldn't meet his eyes, choosing instead to clear your throat and then gesture to the bathroom. "You can have first dibs on washing up. Can't be showing up to your agency looking like you've spent the last day and a half in a villain's hole."

Mirio made a choking noise and you realized a little too late the double entendre you had just gift-wrapped for him, simply covering your eyes and jabbing a finger at him.

"Not a word."

…

His uniform was in tatters and Mirio, after several attempts to get back into it, resorted to folding down the torso so he could at least wear the pants. Sure, his undershirt would look a bit odd, but he doubted anyone would care. If anything, he mourned the loss of the comfortable sweatpants you had loaned him for the trip to the twenty-four hour convenience store on the corner. 

At least his boots had survived mostly intact; finding boots that fit and had the durable lugs on the bottom of them had caused him no end of trouble. Clown shoes, Nejire had lovingly referred to them.

Mirio emerged from the bathroom with a clean face and hair that was…well, it was attached to his head and after the last few days, he was thankful for even that much. You however didn't seem overly impressed, clicking your tongue and dragging him back to the sink to wet his head. You then proceeded to fingercomb his unruly hair and Togata had to admit, it felt…nice. 

You accidentally scratched his scalp and Mirio shivered a bit, unused to the sensation but definitely not minding it. After a few more blissful minutes, you announced that was 'as good as you could get', and then put on your jacket. 

"After all the work you and your friends did, there's been a lot of unrest." You murmured. Mirio didn't miss the hard set of your jaw. "We don't have the Hassaikai to call the shots anymore or keep people in line."

Mirio felt like he ought to be fidgeting. "I'm not apologizing for doing my job." 

"Wasn't asking you to, Golden Boy. I'm just letting you know in case you don't see me again."

"Sunshine-" Mirio began to protest, but you held up a hand to silence him.

"This is how it's always been. You know that."

"But it doesn't have to be like this." Mirio insisted. This all felt too heavy, too important to be discussed in a studio apartment kitchen. Your eyes had a look in them that he didn't like, and he found himself wanting to do something that he knew was stupid. "Come with me instead," he offered it all the same, stomach tying itself in knots.

"No." Your answer was immediate, stinging in its surety. "I'm not a civilian for you to rescue and smile at the cameras with, Golden Boy. I'm scum. Remember that." You pointed at the door. "The minute we walk out of this building, we forget this happened. Or, you tell the boys in charge where I live. Not sure if they'll let you do field work without your Quirk, so that may be your only shot to apprehend me."

His heart was beating so fast it hurt. "I don't want to turn you in." 

"Then don't." The smile you gave him was humorless as you flipped open one of his utility pockets and carefully dropped the ziplocked bullet in. "Would be pretty rude of you, take advantage of my hospitality and then go running to tattle to the agency. It would be a pretty dick move."

"So…this is goodbye I guess?"

"Seems like." You extended a hand, which he quickly clasped. "It's been a hell of a time, Lemillion. You're a real bed hog, but I guess it wasn't too awful."

"You have a twin-sized bed–"

You waved him off, flipping up your hood. "I'll go first, you hang back for a few minutes. Last thing I want is for any normies around here to put together that you came out of my building with me."

"True enough." Mirio hesitated, then asked, "what about your door? There's a lot of locks that I don't have the key for. If I still had my Quirk…"

"It's fine. The locks are more for my own peace of mind when I'm home than for security when I'm not." You gestured at the kitchen table and two chairs. "Who would steal this junk anyway? They'd have to be in real dire straits." With that, you headed for the stairwell. 

Mirio wasn't sure why he felt the need to follow, his hand on your shoulder almost before he realized he was moving. "Wait, I…" he paused, his brain coming up empty for any sort of logical reasoning. "Thank you. Please be careful." He said finally, releasing your shoulder.

Your eyes met his for a moment and you simply nodded, then turned back to the stairs.

Mirio slouched beside your doorframe, his heart still hammering in his chest. What was it? Adrenaline? Nerves? Hell, he had nearly forgotten that he was making his return to polite society for a minute, all of his focus on the way you looked at him, the tight-lipped smile on your face…

Fifteen minutes passed but Mirio decided he should wait twenty, just to be safe. The more distance between the both of you, the less likely people would be to get–

A sudden, distant boom caught Mirio's attention, and the floor trembled beneath his feet for a moment.

What was that? All caution thrown to the wind, Mirio lunged for the stairs. Another boom!, this one louder, the stairwell groaning around him even as he sprinted to the ground floor. Earthquake? He shoved open the door to the apartment complex, cacophony meeting his ears. People yelling, car alarms firing off. Over the nearby buildings he could see fast-billowing smoke rising and as if on autopilot, Mirio bolted forwards. 

We need the police to blockade, fire department, the young man reached for the communicator button on his visor only to remember that it had been broken during the raid on the Hassaikai. The visor was probably still all over the ground halfway across the city. Cursing under his breath, the hero ducked into a convenience store. 

"Hey, sorry to be a bother, gotta' borrow your phone." Mirio announced cheerily, already midway through vaulting the counter to reach the landline. "Oh wait, there's probably a special button sequence to hit so you can call outside the store, yeah?" He asked the cashier, who seemed to be caught between indignance and panic. "Do me a favor, call the police for me. Seems like there's trouble brewing."

The young woman mutely pointed a shaking finger at the television mounted in the corner of the store, which bore a large picture of Mirio's face. The words 'Missing In Action' scrolled across the bottom of the screen while the news anchor gave details of Lemillion's last known whereabouts. "-associates have no information on their partner's location, and voiced their concerns in the following clip."

"If anyone has seen Lemillion or has any idea of where he is, please notify the authorities. We need to find him." Nejire's voice was trembling and sounded wrong. She was always so assertive and sure of herself, but now she seemed almost scared.

Mirio forced himself to release the handset of the phone, instead pressing it into the cashier's hands. "Call the police." He reiterated quietly, trying to appear cool and collected. 

His whole body was shaking as he departed the store, two police cars whipping past as he did. Mirio felt like the world was pressing down on him, the reality of running from his consequences becoming a frightening weight that threatened to crush him. He was used to adrenaline or slight nerves before an altercation but this was a bit ridiculous. The young man steeled himself after a moment, breaking into a run once more. 

People were fleeing in the opposite direction, another shockwave rocking the ground underfoot. Mirio carried on doggedly, running towards whatever faceless danger lurked ahead as civilians streamed past him. Past the hastily erected barricades, past the officers trying to hold back civilians who were attempting to return to the closed-off area, the blond man just kept going. He wasn't sure why he kept going; he had no Quirk, no powers to keep him safe. This was insanity, but no one had ever accused him of being smart.

"Bow before me, worms!" came a raspy shout, and a chunk of cement wall slammed to the ground inches from Mirio. The blond man barely stopped in time, skidding to a halt. "You'll all pay for calling me weak! Without the Hassaikai around to browbeat us, the true power of this world can rise!" It was a short man screaming his lungs out from a balcony, his Quirk seeming to carve chunks out of the side of the building across from him. Mirio would have bet his cape on the individual being hopped up on Trigger, but he didn't exactly have time to ponder the possibilities. This man was clearly going to hurt someone; hell, someone may already be hurt, trapped in a collapsed building or crushed beneath a haphazardly-dropped piece of debris. 

"Hey!" Mirio shouted upwards, catching the off-kilter individual's attention. "You'd better stop before you destroy the neighborhood!" 

"Fuck off!" The man shrieked in reply, a piece of rebar-ridden wall rocketing towards the young hero. Mirio attempted to phase through the object on reflex and was painfully reminded of the loss of his Quirk, the rebar catching him across the chest and throwing him backwards. 

Ow. Ow. Mirio coughed, the wind knocked clean out of him from his sudden meeting with the ground. His eyes rolled back in his head momentarily, then focused blearily on a body that laid in the shadow of a nearby pile of rubble. Civilians, I have to move! Panic flared up and Mirio struggled to heave the rebar and attached concrete off his chest, but the hefty debris hardly budged, instead shifting to bear down on his lungs and stomach. The hero choked in a breath, warring equally between terror and fury at his own helplessness. Clawing for a handhold on the edges of the debris, his fingers seized the rebar and, using all his strength, Mirio finally managed to free himself from beneath the section of wall. 

He barely had a moment to breathe before something was blocking out the sunlight. Mirio only just rolled over in time, dodging the steel beam that crashed into the ground where his head had been. The blond was quickly up on his feet once more, a little unsteady but he had survived harder training than this. Cementoss enjoyed putting them through their paces at the academy, after all! 

Mirio scrambled behind another pile of rubble, his eyes on the body across the way. The hooded jacket looked too familiar even to his rattled vision, and it was with great care that he crawled forwards so as not to alert the unstable Quirk user overhead where he was. The body's features solidified the closer he got, and Mirio was horrified to see that it was you, a pool of blood staining the ground around your head. What you had said earlier came rushing back to him: 'we don't have the Hassaikai to call the shots anymore or keep people in line.' 

You had been right, it would seem. 

"You think you're better than me?! I'll crush you!" came a yell from the balcony, making Mirio groan in irritation. 

"Seriously, knock it off! You're going to get someone killed!" The hero shouted angrily, going to roll you onto your back and realizing with a start that a small girl was wrapped in your embrace. No time to unpack that, he needed a pulse. It was there, it was there thank God, weak in your throat but still there. The little girl was breathing as well, he could see her eyelids flutter like she was dreaming. 

Another chunk of flooring getting torn out of a neighboring building and heaved in his general direction (thankfully missing by a fair margin) encouraged Mirio to keep moving. The young man scooped you and the child up, breaking into a stumbling sprint in order to put more ground between him and the raging Quirk user. 

Blood was smeared across your forehead from a wound at your temple. Mirio was uncertain if you had been injured anywhere else; his perfunctory check only lasted as long as his limited safety. Please be okay, he pleaded mentally, please, I'm sorry, please-

Sirens met Mirio's ears and he turned, catching sight of a police car speeding up the road. He emerged from behind the rubble, shifting your weight to wave one arm and get their attention. "Stop!" He screamed as loudly as he could, still breathing a sigh of relief when the vehicle screeched to a halt. 

The road beneath his feet shuddered and he heard a long, crumbling slide behind him. Another one of the buildings had collapsed, the structure crumpling to the ground in a cloud of dust with a thunderous crash!

The blond man was all but deafened, unable to make out the words the officer behind the wheel was saying. A high-pitched sound rang in his ears, aggravating the headache that had been brewing since he had hit the ground like a sack of bricks.

Abruptly flying past his head was a blue streak, her familiar electricity causing his hair to stand on end. "He's up there!" Mirio shouted at Nejire, his chest tightening when she simply nodded once, eyes narrowed against the wind. Behind Nejire came the rest of the cavalry in a police van and Mirio froze as he was faced with the rapidly-approaching reality of seeing his coworkers, friends again.

With fingers clenched down on your arm and leg to keep them from trembling, he stood his ground. Tamaki was the first out of the transport, the barefoot hero lunging towards Mirio with staggering steps. Mirio braced for impact and was stunned when Tamaki embraced him, the hooded man's quiet voice nearly inaudible. "You're alive, oh my God you're alive."

"I'm sorry for running." Mirio realized he must not still be able to hear properly because Tamaki winced at the volume of his voice. "I'm here to accept the consequences of my actions and take responsibility for the…for the demise of Sir." Mirio said evenly, his chest heaving a bit as he said those words. Demise. 

Tamaki shook his shoulders, the young man clearly exasperated. "Mirio for fuck's sake, you've been missing, I--we thought you were dead!" He said, his voice trembling. "But no, of course you weren't." He gestured at you and the child in Mirio's arms. "You were helping." Guilt crushed Mirio's throat and he hung his head, a sob breaking free. Amajiki hushed him, easing the little girl out of your hold. "It's alright, Mirio," he soothed, "it's alright. Let the medics look you over, alright? Rest for a minute. W-We can talk afterwards." 

Mirio nodded mutely, following the other man to the transport. Before they reached it though, he opened his mouth. "Tamaki, I…my Quirk is gone." Mirio tugged the ziplock bag from his utility belt, showing his friend the bullet. Another sob rattled his body at the horrified expression on Tamaki's face. "I'm the r-reason why Sir--it's my fault." The blond man finished with some difficulty, hating that he couldn't stop his tears. 

"Shut up." Mirio started at the severe tone of Tamaki's voice. The other man sounded pained but firm. "Sir did what he thought was right. Are you saying he made the wrong choice? Are you saying the hero who could see the future made the wrong choice?" Tamaki challenged, his gaze flinty. "He knew what would happen if he saved you, and yet he still did it."

Mirio was stunned silent. Because it was true, for all that he hadn't thought of it. Sir's Quirk…

He still did it.

"Why?" The blond croaked out. 

Amajiki just shook his head, his expression softening. "I'm not him, Mirio. I don't know. B-But we can't let it be for nothing, right?" He reasoned with a tiny smile, handing the child over to the medical personnel and then taking your body out of Mirio's arms.

Mirio's knees suddenly buckled beneath him, but a blue-clad arm thrust itself under his shoulder to support his weight. "It's okay Mirio, I've got you." Nejire, her face dirty but smiling, the young woman looking at him like they were still friends. 

All Mirio could do was shove his face into her shoulder and cry hysterically, apologizing to her and Tamaki over and over. It wasn't exactly heroic behavior but he might not even be considered a hero after this, so maybe he would be forgiven this momentary weakness.

He knew what would happen if he saved you, and yet he still did it.

Part Three

[servin-up-surveys]

survey #222

Do you ever have days where you just don’t do anything? I mean... compared to the lives of ordinary adults my age, that would be most days for me. I have nothing but free time and I'm not exactly skilled at putting it to good use.

Have you ever experienced something paranormal? I firmly believe I have, at the bare minimum of twice. I think an old home of mine was haunted or some shit, weird things happened there.

What’s the longest amount of time you’ve been stuck in traffic? Hell if I know. I'm sure it was while traveling, though.

What museums have you visited, if any? I literally think I've only visited one, the local one in my city... which is abysmally depressing to say. I love the idea of museums, and the one we have here is immensely sub-par. I would love to visit a good one, especially one with fossil displays.

Have you ever dealt with noisy neighbors or roommates? How did that go? No, thankfully. I mean, our current neighbor's dog doesn't shut up half the time, but unless I'm not listening to something in the spare room (the room closest to where she is in the neighbor's [fenced] yard), I don't hear her in here.

Have you ever taken a woodshop class? No.

What area of math are you best at? Worst? I suck at all math. According to the autism eval I took, I apparently need an IEP in mathematics. During my last college attempt, I literally failed ALGEBRA ONE miserably, but I will say I really didn't like how my teacher taught, he was all about weird shortcuts. Even when I tried tutoring though, I was humiliated that just nothing made sense. It's a bit strange, though; up through high school, I could handle math, but it was always my weakest subject. I wasn't an A student in it. I just go so much worse when I left high school. I don't know if it could be the results of overmedication (which I hold responsible for my memory issues), trauma (trauma can have effects you wouldn't guess, and I firmly believe it altered how I process information), or what.

How do you feel when you meet someone with the same music taste as you? I get excited. I love music, so it's something to bond over.

Do you believe in luck? Why or why not? "In a sense. Sometimes you're just in the right place at the right time, or "the stars align." But as a force, not really." <<< Literally this.

Do you ever feel self-conscious when you eat around other people? Only if the food is messy, and I don't generally like eating messy food anyway because *I* don't like getting messy.

Have you ever considered going to art school? I went to the Art Institute of Pittsburgh Online and got scammedddddd <33333

Is there anyone in your life who consistently angers you? My sister's shitty husband.

Have you ever had problems falling asleep in class? No.

Are your parents supportive of you? Yes. Mom WAY more actively than Dad, but.

How often do you take the train to go places? Never.

Have you ever participated in a mock trial, or a real trial? No.

Do you have the right time set on your microwave? Yes.

Do you have any old newspaper articles? Why? No.

Do you have a flat screen tv or just a regular box? We have a decently large flat-screen. It's not something we could ever afford now; it's as old as when my parents were still together.

Do you have a radar detector for your car? No.

Have you ever been arrested? For what? No.

Do you know how to change the oil in your car? Nope.

Do you like Tootsie Rolls? I don't.

Are you seeing anybody currently? I've been dating the same someone for almost three years now.

Do you like it when it snows? I fucking love when it snows. It doesn't happen often here. It sticks even less often.

Where do you do most of your shopping? Walmart.

Do you have a big yard? Big no, the front and back are very small.

Do you live in the country or the city? A development just outside a city. Still basically city.

At what age did you obtain your driver license? I'm 28 and still don't have it; I probably never will. It is better for me and everyone else on the road. I WISH I could drive, but it's just not a safe option right now.

What are you favorite kind of chips? Hot crunchy Cheetos

Where did you go today? My primary doctor for a check-up. Our car is still toast so we were lucky enough that they offered transportation.

Are you sleepy right now? Extremely. I stayed up way too late last night to have to wake up early like I had to.

What color is your mousepad? Black.

Do you get your eyebrows waxed? No. I don't care enough.

Has anyone given you flowers recently? Not recently.

Has anyone you know been arrested recently? No.

Do you have more than 1 email address? Yes.

Do you have central heating and air? Yes. Especially this time of year, I'd fucking die without it.

Are there any plants in your house? There's a decent amount because of Mom. I think it's mostly pothos.

Do you prefer cold or warm weather? COLD

Do you prefer bar or liquid soap? Liquid, I hate bar soap.

Do you wear any perfumes/colognes on a regular basis? No.

Do you have high or low self-esteem levels? Abysmally low.

When was the last time you listened to a song on repeat? What was the song? Um... I feel like it was a good few days ago. "Zwitter" by Rammstein.

Do you like mint or orange-flavored chocolate? Mint, yes. I don't feel like I've tried orange-flavored chocolate. I can imagine myself not liking the combo, but I can't guarantee that.

When was the last time you burnt your mouth from eating something too hot? Around a week ago when Mom made chicken fried rice.

What is your favorite foreign language to listen to? (In music or speech) I like how German sounds, but I also think I have a bias because when I hear it, I like to see how much I can translate.

Do you prefer instrumental songs or ones with lyrics? Lyrics.

Name something simple that makes you happy. A cold drink when I'm really thirsty. Sunrises and sunsets. The sound of rain. I'm very pleased that I'm pretty good at identifying small happinesses.

What is your favorite instrument to listen to? Electric guitar, violin, harp, piano, lots others.

Pick one: Books, movies or music? Music.

What was the last book you read about? It was a book in the Warriors series, in the "A Vision of Shadows" arc. The books are pretty thick with various events, but the primary plot was the Clans coming together to oust an invasion of murderous rogues that nearly destroyed their way of life.

When was the last time you used a quote from a movie in real life? I don't really do this unless I'm joking and making an obvious reference. I don't remember what it was anyway, though.

Can you put your legs behind your head? Hell no.

Do you forget things easily? You would not BELIEVE how horrendous my memory is. Like it is unfuckingreal. I feel like being overmedicated for so, so long is the reason, it just ate away at my brain.

The last song you listened to: Did it have a male or female vocalist? Male.

Have you ever had braces? Do you need them? I did as a pre-teen/teenager.

What does your voice sound like? (Loud, quiet, high-pitched, etc) I think it's somewhat deep for a woman, but not to where it sounds traditionally masculine. I tend to stutter and I can either talk too quietly or, if I'm excited or in some way passionate or just confident in an explanation, I've had it pointed out I speak too loudly.

What was the last topic you read about on Wikipedia? So I opened the page to Kamala Harris's political policies, but I promptly left it and read on a platform that isn't edited by random-ass people and wouldn't be rife with biases. I feel like in light of... recent events, I need to be more aware than ever of the policies of people who have a chance of having a say in my country's politics. I don't like Biden (But DO NOT BE MISTAKEN, I hate Trump a HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEELL of a lot more), but I have this hope that maybe Kamala will replace him. How, figure it out yourself.

Have you ever donated money to Wikipedia? No, that would be so low on my priorities of things to donate to if I even had money.

What board games did you play when you were growing up? A lot of Cranium brand games, Candyland, Life (modified rules to be easier for kids), Monopoly (modified rules for same reason), Mouse Trap (ngl we mostly played with the parts than the actual game haha), Operation, Checkers, I had a Crocodile Hunter game I loved, Battleship, lots of others. We had a big stock of board games to choose from.

Do you know any sign language? No.

When was the last time you bought new clothes? What did you get? Holy hell I have no idea.

Do you ever watch streamers on Twitch? Hazelnuttygames, sometimes. She's a WoW streamer.

Has your house ever been broken into? How did you find out? There was an attempt at my childhood home, but they didn't get in.

What do you usually eat for breakfast? Generally cereal.

Are you overwhelmed right now? Ha! Not as bad as I was yesterday. I reached a capacity of stress yesterday that for the vast majority of the day, I completely shut down. I don't remember the last time I was that stressed because of just everything going on in my life and in my country.

Did you share a bedroom with someone when you were growing up? My younger sister Nicole, yes.

How many group chats are you in? Do you participate in them much? I'm in one with Mazzy and Tez, and that's the only group chat I truly contribute to. I'm in the Tumblr community's Rammstein Discord, and I talk only rarely because it's just so busy and overwhelming that I get stressed trying to keep up lol.

Are you still in touch with any of your exes? No.

What do you do for work? I am humiliated to be my age (and not considered properly disabled) and not work. I'm trying my best to build a freelance nature photography career, but... that's a monumental task, if I'm honest. But I'm still trying. Freelance art is FUCKING HARD to make a living with.

Were you upset when you found out certain things weren’t real? (Santa, Tooth Fairy…) No. I was old enough by then to have doubted, so I wasn't surprised.

Name something you’re proud of. Brag a little bit. One of my proudest achievements is getting a Daily Deviation on deviantART. It's the biggest honor you can get on the site and is (generally, especially without connections) very hard to obtain.

Which store would you like to win $1000 for? Rebel's Market.

Do you pay any attention to celebrity drama? No. The only celeb drama I've ever paid attention to was when Till from Rammstein was forced into it by a sexual misconduct accusation. He's fucking innocent btw, this is well-supported, but Germany tends to hate Rammstein for unsound reasons and will NEVER cover the positives of the band. Any time his accuser was revealed to be full of absolute bullshit, their popular media never covered it. I don't want ANY assumptions made about me and my stance on sexual assault involving celebrities, you take EVERY accusation seriously and I kept my mouth shut while the investigation went down, I wanted the facts, and the facts are fucking nothing was found that damned Till. I don't defend him because he's in a band that I love, I defend him because of the absolute fucking lack of evidence and the documented bullshittery of Shelby (accuser). If there was actual evidence that Till was a sexual predator, I would drop my support of him so fuckin' fast, I can stake my life on that. I don't fuck with sexual predators, whether I'd originally liked them or not. I don't play that "but that's my homie!!!" game. WOW this was a ramble but I feel very strongly on this, it was such an ordeal.

What popular food do you dislike? Fried chicken wings. A LOT of things if I think about it for a moment.

Do you have any cats? Yes, Roman.

How many slices of pizza can you eat in 1 sitting? Rarely two; I usually have three. If I'm incredibly hungry, four. Of course, this does depend on the size of the slices.

[nighttimeclassics]

why does expressing yourself suck so much - emotions fucking suck.

honestly this is a venting of aggravations more than anything, but I just need to get it out of my body.

why is living out loud, and expressing genuine emotion always met with disdain??? to preface what brought this on, i wrote my friend a book for his birthday - which I was nervous about because it was a last minute decision. i was initially making him a blanket, but I ran out of yarn SO FAST, and couldn't get any more so in a panic wrote him a mythology book because that is something we both enjoy,. I felt bad about it though because he's dyslexic and hates reading books, but the only thing I could afford was spending my own time, because I have no money, so it was the only thing I could think of. and he painted me the most amazing dragon for my birthday a few months back. on top of that, he is one of my best and only friends. i don't know if he knows that. he lives hundreds of miles away and has a solid social network, so I don't know if he knows he's one of the most important people in my life. fuck me that's depressing. but I know Im not one of his closest friends by a long way. i don't think I'm anyone closest friend. shit. he didn't have a bad reaction to the gift, he seems to have liked it, but these reactions were over text, so i cant read the tone at all. i thought it was weird as well considering when it was my birthday, we opened my present together over facetime, so we could talk about it, so why was this over text? but also i just have to keep reminding myself that I'm probably hormonal at the minute and reading too much into everything, especially with the rsd.

but you know, being autistic, with alexithymia and rejection sensitivity dysphoria i have a complicated relationship with birthdays. i have always loved giving people presents to show how much they mean to me, but i learnt very quickly that my elaborate weirdly personal gifts weren't appreciated by most people so i stopped doing that a while ago. but you know, recently i thought fuck that, i want to be my authentic self. i am a stupidly emotional person and i am ridiculously devoted to those i love, friends and family alike. but people always misread my emotions, assuming i fancy them or stuff like that, to the point i even have to question myself - like a reverse of that moment in arrested development when Gob and that magician think they are in love with one another but its just friendship. people should really realise given how ace i am that i am not in love with them, at least as far as i am aware. but god forbid i try and do anything nice, i just don't understand why it makes people uncomfortable? especially when i a, only 'revealing' myself in this way who i feel comfortable around - in line with my efforts in unmasking myself.

and our friendhsip is tentative anyways because he's thought I had feelings for him a while ago - but I don't think that I do - everyone always thinks I'm in love with my friends. but its not my fault that we are all queer, suspected or confirmed neurodivergent nerds. I'm rambling like there is no tomorrow but I think basically what I'm saying is that his reaction made me overthink everything (it doesn't help that we went from talking on facetime a lot to now only talking on text after the accusation that I had feelings for him back in like January) I only just got him back as a friend, I don't want to lose him and I wish I was allowed to live out loud and express myself the way I want to without judgement from society, and those that I trust. I'm bored of hiding myself or walking on eggshells. and I feel like a twat because all of this is over a fucking shitty birthday present that I probably shouldn't have written in the first place. fucks sake. i hold on too tight to people I think. and that is never received well. i try to be normal in my friendships - especially the two I have at the minute. i get that they are the only two friends I have, and they have a bunch so I try not to annoy them when they are the only people I can talk to, but I don't think its working. gods all of this is just a fucking pity party and I need to get a fucking grip jesus christ