#because on the one hand yes that is a pretty accurate conclusion to draw of what intimacy is

[myteastainedpages]

what else was intimacy if not the memorisation of her thoughts, her dreams, her fears?

the atlas paradox - olivie blake

[nn-ee-zz]

Hey nez! Ive DM'd you before and you opened my mind to re-examine how I think of design! My thought process about character design is still a work in progress, so for now I'm trying to just up my technical skills and I have to ask... how tf do you practice/do studies of things and not want to cry? I'm so tired of doing realism studies but when I see your beautiful sketches or inks of characters with beautiful faces and details I wanna learn everything! How do you do it?

Hey!

Studying from reality is important, yes, but unless you want your art to look incredibly realistic there is no need to place high expectations on how close the result looks to your reference. I rarely do realism studies myself.

Before starting a study you have to ask yourself what are you trying to improve. Don't answer 'everything' because it will overwhelm you. Pick something to focus on. If you want to study facial proportions, focus on the face and don't place expectations on how the hair looks like. If you want to study dynamic poses, draw them without bothering much with the accuracy of anatomy. If you want to study rendering, trace your reference (more on that later) and shade it from there.

Doing a study for the sake of a study is tedious and wont bring results just as fast. Now...

HOW I DO STUDIES WITHOUT EMOTIONAL PAIN

-Studies don’t have to be a copy

When I do studies, I oftentimes seek to capture the atmosphere the picture gives off rather than make it as accurately as possible. Here, my focus were facial proportions, meaning the rest could be improvised. I didn’t focus on the hands, nor the hair, nor the clothing, nor the anatomy of the arms/shoulders. Just the face. By making this study I also discovered her eyes are uneven in my drawing... Allow your studies to have mistakes and don’t let them bring you down! Drawing a mistake and recognizing it is a lot more helpful than not drawing anything at all.

-Testing things out is fun

Which artstyle would fit your drawing best? Try it out in your sketchbook! Many times, if needed! Don't overthink sketchy and unfinished lines. If it doesn’t suit you, you can leave it (or finish it later) and move on. This also serves as practice for drawing faces (in my case) and to once again find your mistakes and weak spots. I personally seem to have trouble making even eyes. But now that I noticed it, I can fix it.

-Small and fast

When things are particularly difficult for me, like anatomy or facial proportions, I usually allow myself to make those drawings smaller than usual. It allows you better control. I also draw them fast and don't focus too much on accuracy. With that method I can make many in a short period of time and eventually understand how to better approach it in bigger drawings. This counts more like practice than study, but it’s important.

-Not everything is for social media

It’s easy to make people believe I’ve got it all figured it out! I control what I post and not everything makes it online. Some things are only here as an example, and even behind that content there’s messier work. Don't be discouraged by other artists seemingly beautiful studies. Allow your sketches and studies to be ‘ugly’ sometimes.

-Trace things

Connecting to the point above, these usually shouldn’t be posted on social media. Sometimes when I see a face I like, I re-draw it or trace it. Real or drawn. Below I traced a frame of Milleniunm Acctress from Satoshi Kon. I admire the artstyle a lot. After tracing it, however, I came to the conclusion that while it’s pretty it doesn’t fit the atmosphere I’m looking for. Hence why I redrew it again by myself to the side.

I know tracing is a controversional topic but it’s extremely helpful in studies. Not only will it make you understand the shape better but also allow you to discover what works and doesn’t for the art you want to make.

This one is difficult to recommend for beginner artists, because you’re scared they might become too reliant on it or won’t know where to draw the limit.

Don't post it online (unless you have the permission from the artist)

Don't use the result as base for your own work.

Don't focus on one artist alone (try different approaches from several people)

Don't rely on artworks too much (you might pick up their mistakes)

That seems to be all! Having fun while studying helps a lot to keep your enthusiasm going, so draw characters you like as well. Even if they don't fit the style you want. Put it in your sketchbook and experiment, it counts as a study aswell.

Good luck, hopefully this reply isn't too long!

[makeste]

save no matter what.

so this is going to ultimately be a post about Deku. however, if you’ll be so kind as to indulge me, I would like to start things off by making a point about Bakugou. specifically, I’d like to point out that back in the day before this kid got Character Development no Jutsu’d, people weren’t always so inclined to view his attitude towards winning in the best light. which is a nice way of saying that he came off as unhealthily obsessed, not to mention more than a little unhinged.

sorry for the image spam btw, I just think they’re funny. he’s so demented lmao. KILL DIE CRUSH.

anyway so we’re gonna do the rest of this below a cut before it gets long. but I promise it really is a Deku post lol. don’t let the pre-readmore stuff fool you. I PROMISE THERE IS A POINT, AND WE WILL GET TO IT.

anyway! so yeah, we really didn’t have the best impression of Bakugou’s whole winning fixation at the beginning there. and I mean, it’s not like we had the best impression of Bakugou himself at the start of things either. we were already primed from the very first chapter to see this kid as an adversary to Izuku. the story goes out of its way to paint him in pretty much the worst light possible. which is why what happens next is so interesting.

because one might see all this and think, “holy heck, this kid is off the shits, somebody needs to set him straight pronto and get it into his head that winning isn’t everything.” because that’s almost the natural conclusion to draw. “look at this kid, he doesn’t care about helping other people at all, all he cares about is winning, someone needs to come along and show him that he’s got it backwards.”

except that’s not what happens, is it? because this is where, much to my delight, Horikoshi came along and started subverting expectations. because not only is Katsuki not rebuked for being so obsessed with winning -- it’s pretty much the exact opposite.

the one and only time Deku ever straight up hands Katsuki’s ass to him is when he says he doesn’t want to win. Deku is IMMEDIATELY all, “THE FUCK KIND OF BULLSHIT DID I JUST HEAR OUT OF YOUR TRASH MOUTH,” and that’s when he sets him straight.

the important people in Katsuki’s life never tell him, “hey you need to cool it with the whole winning thing.” All Might and Aizawa never scold him for it, or tell him that he shouldn’t try with everything he has to win, or that wanting to win is a bad thing. on the contrary, they both commend him for it. and ultimately, he’s told by All Might that this desire is actually one of the two fundamental qualities that every great hero needs.

he completely turns the whole thing on its head. not only is it not a bad thing, it’s actually crucial. essential. because what the desire to win really is, at its core, is tenacity. it’s the fiercest kind of determination. it’s not something he should be ashamed of; it’s something that sets him apart, something that makes him worthy. he is someone who refuses to back down no matter what. refuses to give up, no matter what. and this quality, which is initially misunderstood by some to the point where even the villains mistakenly take him for one of their own in the making, is eventually validated to the fullest degree by the person that Katsuki looks up to the most. his desire to win goes from being this awkward “son wtf are you doing” thing to being one of the core philosophies of the series. and ever since then, we pretty much don’t question it.

so why do I bring this up now? well, the answer to that can basically be summed up in one word.

“parallels.”

so here’s the thing. there’s been a lot of talk lately about Deku’s ridiculous, reckless, and absurdly self-destructive desire to save others while having little to no regard for himself. currently he’s lying in a hospital bed, having broken approximately 218 out of the 206 bones in his little hero body (yes, somewhere along the way he found an additional dozen bones to break). it is worrying. it is Concerning. and it’s raised a lot of questions, such as “???” and “wtf is this idiot doing.”

and a lot of people have been pretty critical of him! this is, of course, an ongoing thing with this child, and people have been giving him grief over it going as far back as chapter 6.

while others have been bothered by it going even further back than that.

and I’ve seen these sentiments being echoed pretty frequently in the fandom as well. and there are basically two talking points that I want to address here. the first is the idea that Deku’s aggressive brand of selflessness stems from an inherent lack of self-worth. in other words, because he prioritizes other people’s safety and well-being above his own, and is willing to go to such drastic lengths to save them, there’s this feeling that he doesn’t value himself enough, that he must not care about himself.

but I don’t think that’s quite it. let’s go back to those parallels first, though. let’s take another look at Kacchan.

what I mainly want to call attention to is the intensity here. again, it’s something that at first strikes most readers as being absurdly over the top. the truth is, I think a lot of people simply can’t relate to it. Katsuki cares about winning with a ferocity and a fervor that most people, for better or worse, simply don’t have. I certainly don’t, lol.

but he does. to him it’s not a shallow, superficial thing at all. it’s important to him, perhaps the most important thing. I think we often talk about it in terms of it being a desire, but imo a more accurate way to define it is not as a want, but as a need. in other words, it’s the opposite of the question “what is it this character wants” (i.e. “what is it they can’t live without”)? instead, it’s a question of “what is it they don’t want” (i.e. “what is it they can’t live with”)?

and in Katsuki’s case, the thing he can’t live with is feeling like he hasn’t tried his absolute best. he needs to give his all in everything he does. he wants to win, but winning just on its own is not enough.

it has to be earned. he has to prove to himself and to everyone else that he deserves it. anything less than that is unacceptable. anything less than that, and he can’t be at ease. he can’t be settled. he can’t rest. and so he puts everything he has into winning, even if it means going to extremes. because it’s that important to him.

it’s something that’s at times alarming and even disturbing for others to witness. but nonetheless, it’s a part of who he is, and at the end of the day his teachers accept that, and the story acknowledges that it’s his greatest strength.

so now, to finally bring this back around to Deku, this is what I keep seeing in his character as well. only in his case, the thing he can’t live with is knowing that he didn’t do everything he possibly could to save someone. or to put it another way, Deku, at his core, is someone who cannot rest until he knows that everyone is safe. simple as that. it’s not just a desire to protect people; it’s a need. he needs to know that everyone is safe and protected. otherwise he can’t be at ease. it’s no different from how normal, everyday people aren’t able to feel at ease unless they know that they are safe and that their loved ones are safe. it’s just that in Deku’s case, this same fundamental need extends to everyone, not just himself and his friends and family. everyone. he can’t live with himself knowing that someone was in trouble, and he had the ability to do something to help, but didn’t. and so, if you literally can’t live with not doing something, you basically have no choice but to do it.

and this is what in my opinion defines Deku’s character. Kacchan, in trying to understand it, noted that Deku doesn’t seem to take himself into account. but I think OFA Prime summed it up a little more accurately. “he rages for the sake of others. for them, he does his best until he can do no more. this young man is possessed by a drive to save others that eclipses all common understanding.”

so yeah. it’s not that he doesn’t care about himself at all, it’s that he cares about others even more. he has that same intensity and ferocity towards saving people that Katsuki has towards winning. and just as it was difficult at first for fans to understand Katsuki’s feelings, it’s hard to fathom the sheer depth of that “save everyone” feeling that compels Deku to break his own body in that pursuit. it’s scary, not to mention extremely destructive and dangerous. and so really, it was almost inevitable that there would be some backlash.

but just like Katsuki’s desire to win was ultimately validated in the end, I think Deku’s desire to save others will be as well. in fact it already is being validated, for starters by the other denizens of OFA, led by Lil Bro as mentioned above. let’s go back for a moment to that same scene.

here we get a huge hint that “Deku gets taken down a notch and chewed out and scolded for his recklessness” is not, in fact, the direction that the story is going in. because in general, when the main villain starts mocking the hero and saying that they’ve done something wrong, that’s a very good sign that said hero is actually on the exact right track. like, no offense, but as far as character critiques go, AFO is probably the least qualified person in the entire manga to start offering those up lol. so yeah. if AFO is denouncing Deku for something, and OFA Prime is praising him for that exact same thing, I think it’s safe to say that means he is in fact doing something very, very right.

“okay but makeste, he nearly got himself killed and broke all of his arms AND legs and is now lying in a fucking coma,” you say, gesturing emphatically to the last page of chapter 298. “so I mean, that’s all well and good that Wonder Boy has the best of intentions and all that, but at the end of the day he’s only one kid. he literally can’t save everyone, and if he pulls one or two more stunts like this, he’s going to get himself killed.”

and okay, but this here is the other talking point that I wanted to address. because it’s true, Deku does need to learn a specific lesson here. but that lesson is NOT that he can’t save everyone. this is a superhero story, guys -- “you can’t save everyone” is never going to be the underlying message, ever. it’s the OPPOSITE of the message. Deku is the hero because he tries to save everyone. because he doesn’t give up on saving people no matter what. that is literally the core of the story. it has been since the very first chapter.

so then what is it that Deku actually needs to learn here? well, once again, it all comes back to those parallels.

btw, I really just love how he’s carrying Katsuki there lol. he’s just so done with him.

but anyway. so, the final exam arc. Katsuki initially wants to win at all costs -- but there’s a hitch. because even though he wants to win, he refuses to do so while working with Deku. enter Deku’s left hook, and one impromptu Rival Encouragement Speech later, our boy has thankfully come to his senses.

but here’s the point -- the lesson here wasn’t “you can’t always win.” rather, the lesson that Katsuki needed to learn was that you can’t always win alone.

yeah. so now you can see what I’m getting at here.

“...on your own.”

that’s the key. this is the one and only thing that Deku actually needs to get into his head. wanting to save everyone is fine! his will to save others has never been a weakness -- it’s been the most admirable thing about him from day one. it’s what makes him strong. it’s why All Might chose him. it’s why OFA has chosen him. it’s what sets him apart, and I firmly believe it’s what will ultimately help him save the day and defeat AFO as well. because what other character would look at Shigaraki Tomura, the person who just impaled his friend and destroyed an entire city, and instinctively reach out a hand to try and save him? and if you don’t think that’s going to wind up being key to the final battle, you and I have very different ideas about this series’ endgame.

Deku’s determination to save everyone isn’t arrogance or futility. it is and always has been his greatest strength. but what he’s missing now, what he needs to learn, is simply to trust. y’all might have seen that theory about the Fourth’s quirk, and why All Might was so hesitant to tell Deku about it. basically, the theory (which is based on an attempted translation of the crossed-out parts of All Might’s OFA notebook) goes that the Spidey Sense was so overwhelming that the Fourth -- whose cause of death was one of the things crossed out -- eventually couldn’t bear it, and went to live alone in the middle of the woods somewhere. and possibly wound up killing himself?? all of which is just speculation right now of course. but it makes sense. and it would certainly explain why All Might, being all too aware of Deku’s self-destructive tendencies, would keep that from him.

but if this is the case, that means it’s clear that the Fourth’s solution didn’t work. “give up and accept that you can’t save everyone” clearly is NOT the answer to be had here.

the answer is trust. trust that his fellow heroes have his back. trust that they’ll be able to help him reach the people he’s not able to reach on his own. trust that they can work together to save everyone. that he doesn’t have to rest the entire world on his shoulders alone.

it’s the one lesson that All Might, his predecessor and his teacher, never learned himself until it was too late. but of course, All Might never had a prickly and determined rival who was ready to step in and deal out some tough love if need be. a rival who, perhaps, just might soon get a chance to repay an old favor.

“I don’t wanna hear you say you can’t save someone.”

I’m just saying. just as Deku has been watching Katsuki all this time, and admiring his determination to win, and emulating it himself, so has Katsuki recently begun to emulate Deku’s determination to save others. we’ve seen it not just in his recent act of self-sacrifice, but even in little things like his habits and tricks of speech. just like Katsuki is Deku’s image of victory, Deku is becoming Katsuki’s image of saving others.

and so I’ll bet you anything that if Deku ever starts to doubt himself, or starts feeling like his dream and desires are futile, Kacchan will be there to set him straight with a good old fashioned Rival Encouragement Speech of his own. possibly with his own left hook to match, though his left shoulder is currently out of sorts atm so he might need to modify that approach a little bit. but the point is, he’ll be there. and he will not allow Deku to give up on himself. he will be there to remind him that he doesn’t have to face this alone.

so yeah! finally managed to wrap up my giant Deku meta which I’ve been working on for ages and rewritten like fifteen times lmao. just in time for this to be relevant for all of a day, probably, depending on what happens once chapter 279 drops lol. but yeah. tl;dr, local boy tries to do too much, but his heart is in the right place, and hopefully all he really needs is a good pep talk from his tsundere bff to set him to rights again. r.i.p. to the Fourth, but he’s different.

[violettelueur]

ITADORI YUJI + FUSHIGURO MEGUMI + GOJO SATORU + INUMAKI TOGE || WITH A MUTE S/O

| featuring : itadori yuji + fushiguro megumi + gojo satoru + inumaki toge from jujutsu kaisen

| warnings : grammar errors and a lot of my side comments

| form : headcanons

| published : 25 november

| request : i really really like your writing, it literally makes me so giddy ngl. i’d like to recommend, if you can, a headcanon with toge, gojo, megumi and yuji where the reader is either blind or deaf or mute. you honestly don’t have to, but i think it be pretty neat if you did

| barista’s notes : hello guys! guess who is probably going back to school tomorrow after being in isolation? probably me~ ʕ ﾟ ● ﾟʔ also i can’t really lie, this piece was a bit difficult for me to write that i had to do some quick research about the topic that is related to this headcanons ʕᴥ·　ʔ other than that, i hope you enjoy your cup of classic black coffee (jujutsu kaisen request!) and have a wonderful day/night ʕ •ᴥ•ʔゝ☆

ITADORI YUJI:

Itadori would be confused at first since you weren’t mute due to you having cursed speech as a cursed technique as Inumaki does.

It would be a bit strange to him at first since he is so used to people talking to him through speech due to his energetic personality, but over time he really does try to learn how to communicate to you.

You would at first write to him with a pen and notepad or maybe a whiteboard to make the writing process a bit quicker and easier.

“Wow babe, you have really nice handwriting”

Then there is you replying with the board covering your blushing face - this action will confuse him as he wonders if he said anything wrong only for you to smile at him to ease his worry

He would slowly learn to read you expressions - though not very well, he is trying very hard.

The gestures that he knows you are trying to convey to him within a second are ‘I’m hungry’, ‘I’m tired’ and ‘I love you’ - because I love you is basically you shaping your hands into a heart (girl, that is so cute~)

Itadori will usually ramble a lot, filling the room with his words which makes you really happy since he seems really happy ranting about the movies that Gojo-sensei made him watch for his training or missions that he had gone to.

Even when you are mute, that’s okay because Itadori’s love language is physical touch - so prepare to receive many hugs and energetic kisses.

And due to that, expressing your love to each other is quite easy since the both of you could just physically inform each other - lowkey I feel like Itadori would give the best hugs, he’s like the sun.

In conclusion, he really is trying to understand you and learn as quickly as possible - even then you wrote to him that it was okay and he should take his time - he really wants to be the best boyfriend possible - even though he is the best boyfriend affection wise.

FUSHIGURO MEGUMI:

Fushiguro is the master of reading your expression and what’s going on in your mind.

Sometimes it really scares you because you wonder if he can read your mind since what he ‘guesses’ were just too accurate and precise.

“You seem like you want to eat Udon today, do you want to go to our favourite noodle place?”

You looked at him with widened eyes with the thoughts of: How the hell did he know what I was thinking? Can he read my mind? 

“Y/N I can’t read your mind”

I......what a liar~

When it comes to your expression, he notices the smallest changes from the smallest crease that is formed on your forehead when you’re either annoyed or stressed to the smallest curve that your lips make you smile.

So when you are annoyed, he would gently take your hand in his and grip it tightly to tell you that he was right beside you and that everything was going to be okay.

He really takes in your expression and keeps them into memory, so it’s easier for him and you to communicate - or he just really likes to see you smile and would do anything to keep you smiling.

Fushiguro is really patient with you when it comes to communication, if you have to write a really long response, he would just patiently wait while either looking down onto the board/notepad to admire your handwriting or look at you and admire your face due to you looking so concentrated to finishing your answer - he thinks it’s a really cute sight.

Sometimes out of nowhere, he would kiss your forehead before giving you a soft smile when you look up - girl once again, I’m blushingggggg~

I don’t know but I imagined that little scenario with him sitting down in front of you with his hands in his pockets, while you’re standing in front of him as you write down something - I don’t know after many K-dramas and romance animes this is what is on my mind.

Unlike Itadori, Fushiguro isn’t that affectionate as his classmate but he would do things for you if you didn’t like doing them like washing the dishes or doing the laundry - basically acts of service.

In conclusion; Fushiguro is someone that lets you take your time and is really patient with you, he wants you to be comfortable and allows you to express what you are feeling in any way possible for you to communicate with him - don’t worry he knows what you’re trying to say/suggest.

GOJO SATORU:

Mr Gojo Satoru. The strongest jujutsu sorcerer will probably have a whiteboard himself like you so you didn’t feel alone.

Or maybe it was for him to proudly show you his drawing, just like he did with Fushiguro that one time.

To be honest, this really does light up your mood and sometimes make you forget that you’re mute to begin with because he just has that power.

There are times where he would write cute messages on the board and lift it up for you to see if you are at a faraway distance.

‘You look beautiful today ♡’ to ‘I love you honey~’

You can’t lie, sometimes it is embarrassing when it is shown in front of his students or when you are talking to someone - he’s basically teasing you at this point.

Also about his teasing, even though you can’t verbally respond to his playful comments, your face just expresses it all making it more fun for him to tease you even further.

Prepare for like 1000 flashes because he is going to take a lot of pictures of you - and you can’t even tell him to stop. Also, don’t try to jump around to get his phone, remember he is over 190cm.

On top of that, expect a lot of cute messaged from him during work or when he is on a mission like ‘I miss you’ or ‘I have some souvenirs for you’.

Sometimes he just texts you when you are standing next to him.

But once again, the blue-eyed jujutsu sorcerer really knows how to keep you happy and motivated even with your inability to speak.

There are times where Gojo is worried about your ability to fight for some reason - maybe he was just overprotective of you - but comes to the realisation that talking and fighting are not the same thing.

You are capable of defending and protecting yourself on your own, it’s just that he forgets sometimes.

Or maybe he uses it as a useless excuse to protect you because who knows, you can’t call for help when you might need it - spoiler alert, you bloody don’t.

But does he care?

Noooooooo~

He just wants you safe in his arms so he can come home with you - or maybe just to tease you even more.

In conclusion; expect a lot of cute drawings from him to lift up your mood as well as a lot of teasing here and there because he is Gojo Satoru…..what in the world did you expect?

INUMAKI TOGE:

Inumaki can really relate to you on the fact that you had an inability to speak, even though he can technically talk, it was still limited to ingredients of rice balls in a normal conversation.

Both of you would learn how to communicate with each other since both of you were hard to understand to other people that were around you.

Your friends would be so confused about how you both would understand each other even when there was just little to no words exchanged.

Sometimes you and Inumaki would smile at each other randomly and that other people around you would wonder what on earth the both of you were talking about.

Lowkey you two were gossiping about the second years.

Yes, you two were the perfect gossip couple - no one will ever know what you’re talking about.

Like Fushiguro, he is also very good at reading your expression and would ask if you were okay if he saw you looking upset or irritated.

“Salmon roe?”

You would then give him a thumbs-up before writing down what was making you irritated like “just a bit hungry” or “I really wanna go home, I’m too tired for this”

Since you and Inumaki couldn’t profess your love for each other verbally, you both would either text each other or just physically express it.

Mostly, forehead kisses and maybe some kunik kisses here and there.

Nothing too heated, but mostly sweet and gentle gestures.

Let’s just say you were the IT couple within the second years.

In conclusion; there would be a lot of lowkey gossiping since you two were basically the masters of keeping secrets and gaining new information and light gentle expression of love, even though the both of you struggled with the verbal aspect of your relationship, it really didn’t affect it at all since you two successfully climb over that issue.

[honey-dewey]

To Serve the King

Pairing: Din Djarin/Reader

Word Count: 2,870

Warnings: No major ones, Reader gets called a slut once. 

Very few understood what went on behind the Mand’alor’s helmet, but that didn’t mean they didn’t support him. However, leaving someone wrapped in revealing silks and fine jewelry on the throne when he wasn’t around might’ve been one of the odder things they’ve seen. 

Din Djarin was many things, but a confident Mand’alor was not one of them. They called him Mand’alor the Reuniter, officially. That was the name they put in the books and would write for all of history. However, he was well known as the Mudhorn Mand’alor, or the Mand’alor who never removed his helmet. 

He’d been settled as the Mand’alor for a while now, slowly reuniting the people of Mandalore, hence the name he’d been given. It was slow going, and because he was often away on odd jobs, he needed someone he could trust to keep his throne safe while he went away. 

To most, however, an ex-slave wasn’t the first choice. Hell, it might even be the last. 

Yet, that’s who the great Mand’alor trusted with his beskar throne. 

He’d picked you up on Tatooine, after you’d thrown down with Fennec when she’d found you hiding in Jabba’s old palace. You’d been bruised and beaten up, but you’d held your own and seemed to be pretty loyal, so Din had taken you back to Mandalore and offered you a job. You weren’t a complete fool, so you accepted. 

Now, almost six months later, you were comfortable as the throne keeper. Maybe a bit too comfortable, but that was Din’s problem to deal with. Dressed in revealing silk and soft chiffon, you often sat upon the throne when he hunted. When he wasn’t out hunting, you were seated at his right or in his lap, depending on your mood. 

Some, most even, speculated that you were still a slave, considering the only beskar you wore was an ornate collar. But others considered your boldness and wondered if you were truly the pilot and Din was just your puppet. And others still were certain that you and Din were exchanging sexual favors behind the scenes, taking into account the fact that you both slept in the same room. 

None of them were right. 

You were no longer a slave. You wore the collar out of respect for Din, knowing that he had the power to remove it kept you respectful and by his side, but he would absolutely let you go if you asked. You were also not the mastermind. Despite being smart, you had no desire to rule a planet. And as for the sexual favors, well, you admired Din, and thought he was likely handsome under the helmet, but you could never see yourself seducing him, or vice versa. At least, not yet. 

What you were was his advisor and his unofficial right hand man. He’d offered you the job, and you had insisted on the uniform. It kept you unassuming and out of people’s minds. No one suspected a throne warmer to be anything but a bubble headed slut. Which you definitely were not. 

Din had, upon realizing people would likely be after your head, cleared out a bit of his room for you, which was where you were now. Tucked away in a small alcove was your bed, raised up high above your desk and bookshelf. You enjoyed sleeping this close to the ceiling. It gave you a sense of security. 

Also amongst your things was a wardrobe built into the wall. Inside hung most of your day clothes, as your leisure clothes were folded away in the wardrobe’s only drawer. 

The only thing separating you from Din was a thick black curtain that you controlled, often tugging it shut so you could have privacy. 

Now, you were settled at your desk, pouring over papers Din had given you to check. It was slow going, but worth the trouble. You scratched out a mistake and corrected it, adjusting the number of exports to accurately represent Mandalore’s involvement with the galaxy. 

“Hey,” Din said, knocking a bit on the side of the wall before pushing the curtain open. “You good in here?” 

“Yep,” you mumbled, putting the final piece of paper down and smiling. “Just finished looking over the import and export papers. Everything looks good.” 

Din sighed. “Perfect. I’m leaving for two days. I have a meeting with Fett and Skywalker on a planet not too far from here.” 

You nodded, standing and stretching. “I guess I better get ready, hm?” 

Din chuckled lightly. “What will you wear?” 

Opening your wardrobe, you examined your options, eventually deciding on one. “This.” 

The outfit in question was mostly sheer, with strategic patches of fine silk to cover you appropriately. The chiffon fabric was a beautiful royal blue, while the silks were a blue so dark they may as well have been black. You slid into the outfit, adjusting it and smiling. Din may have worn head to toe beskar to protect himself, but this was your armor. Slipping on your silver anklets and sapphire studded jewelry, you walked out onto the main bedroom, seeing Din waiting there for you. 

“My king,” you said formally, a sly grin curling across your lips. 

Din sighed. “Here.” He held out your beskar collar, securing it around your neck. He was the only one with a key to unlock the ornate clasp that kept it in place, but you didn’t mind. You would survive for a few days without removing the collar while you waited for your Mand’alor to return. 

You two headed out to the throne room, where you settled down on the throne, waving to Din as he left. He promised he’d be back by nightfall the next day, and you grinned, teasingly replying that you couldn’t wait for his return. Throwing your legs over one of the arms of the throne, you lounged back. Time to do your job. 

The first people that came in were merchants from a nearby planet. Rug makers who were down on their luck. They didn’t have much to trade, but you promised them that you would take a look at their exports and see what you could do. Some of the council members seemed hesitant to let them go so easily, but you waved your hand and they left without a word. 

Over the day, you had many encounters like that. Small ones you could easily talk over and come to a simple conclusion. In between meetings, you read a book on the throne, entirely engulfed in the story. The council filtered around you, often attempting to talk you down from your decisions. You always responded in the same way. By flicking a book page and sweetly telling them it’s what the Mand’alor would’ve done. 

By the time the sun had set, you were preparing for your final meeting. A scheduled one with the Nite Owls, who had come in with the leader of an assassination attempt for the Mand’alor. 

The assassin in question was dragged behind Bo-Katan and Koska, his hands cuffed and a length of chain linking his ankles. He looked exhausted, kneeling before you with sleepless and pitiful eyes, his shoulders hunched. You examined him further, occasionally asking Bo-Katan a question. His hair was choppy, clearly dirty and in desperate need of a proper trim, although he did have well maintained facial hair. His skin, naturally sun-kissed, was pale with lack of light, and his eyes, which kept drawing you in, were surrounded by sleepless bruises. 

“Oh for the love of Mand’alor, uncuff him,” you instructed. “He’s starved, exhausted, and in no condition to fight anyone. The least you can do is treat him like a human being and not a kriffing animal.” 

Bo-Katan did as asked, uncuffing the assassin. You leaned forward, happy today had gotten some form of excitement. “Do you have a name?” 

The assassin shook his head. You sighed, standing up and stepping down off the dais and standing before the assassin. “A pity. Can you talk?” 

“Yes.” 

You nodded. “Good. I’m sure Bo-Katan treated you well on your journey here. He wasn’t any trouble, was he, Ms. Kryze?” 

Bo-Katan shrugged. “He’s a survivor. Took us months to hunt him down.” 

You knelt down, taking the assassin’s face and slowly turning it from side to side. Noting a bruise that could only have come from a fight, you made up your mind, standing and holding a hand out. “Stand.” 

He did, taking your hand and using it to wobble to his feet. He was taller than you, but you didn’t mind. All you could see in your head was yourself, knelt before the Mand’alor, body aching from a life of fighting, desperate for any kind of out. He’d held your hand just as you did to the assassin, offering you a steady life. 

“Listen well,” you said, still holding the assassin’s hand. “On this planet, there is an honest life to be found. A life of comfort, a life that isn’t ruled by a need to hunt or fight. If you’ll accept, we can give you that life.” 

The assassin’s face went slack, his hand gripping yours tightly. “And why would I want to live like you?” He hissed finally. “A pretty little palace slut. That’s not what I want.” He stepped forward, but you knew better. Using his iron grip on your hand, you tossed him clean over your shoulder, whirling around to press a knee firmly to his sternum, your dominant forearm steady on his throat. 

“Then you give me no choice,” you said, voice as firm as your position. “I’ll be returning you to Bo-Katan, and she can have her way with you.” 

He was wrestled to his feet, Koska grinning as she recuffed him. 

“Ms. Kryze,” you said, moving back to the throne and sitting upon it once more. “Show our guest how we treat those who would attack us.” 

Bo-Katan nodded, hauling the assassin out. You sighed, collapsing into the throne. “You’re all dismissed,” you said loosely, waving away the council members, all of whom had been dead silent for your final meeting. 

They left, leaving you alone on the throne. How Din did this day in and day out was a mystery to you. You were exhausted simply from one final meeting. 

Standing and heading back to your shared room, you slid past Din’s portion and finally shrouded yourself in the familiarness of your room. 

You had a horribly restless sleep that night, and awoke early to the sound of someone entering the room. You feared for all of two seconds before you heard the telltale sounds of beskar armor. Din was home early. 

Sliding out of bed, you tossed on a knee length robe and opened the curtain, seeing Din standing next to his bed. 

“Oh Maker am I glad to see you!” You said, eagerly approaching him. “I had a very long day yesterday.” 

Din huffed, settling on the side of the bed. “Oh yeah? Tell me about it.” 

You sat with him, cross legged and playing absently with the hem of your robe. “Well. It was super simple until the end. Just a bunch of boring meetings and deals, most of which were transcribed for you and I can give you the highlight notes later. But then, Bo-Katan came in with the leader of that would-be assassination group she told us about last month. He was a complete dick! Called me a slut and almost hurt me.” 

“You fought back?” 

“Yeah.” You scooted closer to Din. “Sent him out with Bo-Katan. I’m sure she’s disposed of him by now.” 

Din sighed, leaning back on the bed. “Sounds like you did good.” 

You smiled, the praise warning your chest. “I think I did.” 

You almost fell asleep there with Din, the both of you laying with each other. He’d had a long trip, which he told you about. He’d not slept in his anticipation to return, Grogu coming home with him for a while. The little green child was curled in your lap. You’d met him a few times, and he liked you tremendously. His acceptance of you was part of the reason Din trusted you as much as he did. 

Before you could truly fall asleep, Din nudged you awake, mumbling he had a meeting to attend. You stretched, slowly crawling out of the bed and picking a less revealing and more comfortable pale green outfit. It was still fit for a throne warmer, but wasn’t as scandalous as your previous day’s attire. 

Walking out with Din, you grinned upon seeing Bo-Katan seated at the small, round meeting table. There was no one else in the room. 

Din, as per custom, sat across from Bo-Katan, with you sitting at his right. 

“So,” Din said, starting the meeting officially. “The assassin, you dealt with him?” 

Bo-Katan’s lips curved into a smile. “In a way, yes.” 

Din shifted. “What does that mean?” 

“We got rid of him,” Bo-Katan clarified, leaning back in her chair. “Although I think his encounter with your stand-in was enough to scare him into not messing with us ever again. But, as per the instructions, he was dealt with in an appropriate manner. I doubt we’ll be hearing from the other assassins in the group any time soon.”

“Good,” Din said, relaxing. “Shall we tell them?” 

“I suppose,” Bo-Katan hummed. “It was such fun yesterday to see them fight, but now is as good a time as any.” 

“I’m sorry,” you interrupted, leaning forward and putting a hand on the table. “Are you talking about me?” 

Din nodded. “After seeing what you can do, and how you negotiated yesterday, I think it’s fitting that I ask you to be my interplanetary advisor. This would mean making trips with me, handling most if not all of the papers, which I think you do anyway, and basically doing what you do now on a larger scale.” 

You were stunned. It made sense, all except for one little bit. “But you didn’t see what I did yesterday. You were gone.” 

Din made a small noise that you assumed was a chuckle. “Just because you don’t recognize me doesn’t mean I’m not there,” he pointed out, and you almost asked him what he meant when he slowly took his helmet off, revealing the face of the assassin from yesterday. 

You were silent for much too long before finally taking a frustrated swing at Din. He dodged easily, a smile on his face. “Did I do something wrong?” 

You shook your head, your next move a very powerful hug for Din. “I cannot believe you let me take you down yesterday,” you said happily, still holding him. “Oh my kriffing maker, I can’t believe it!” 

Eventually, you pulled away, examining Din’s face. His cheekbone was still bruised, but he looked healthier, like he’d had a proper meal and bath. “Y’know,” you said, tugging at a small curl that was flopped over on Din’s forehead. “I knew you were handsome under that helmet. But this is unexpected.” 

“Good unexpected or bad unexpected?” 

“Oh definitely good unexpected,” you replied. “Was anyone else in on it?” 

Din shook his head. “As far as the council knows, the man from yesterday was legitimately an assassin and is now dead.” 

Over the next few weeks, you shifted in your job, traveling with Din and leaving the council to handle affairs on Mandalore. He was excellent fun on trips, looser and more at ease when it was just the two of you on a ship together. He introduced you as his official right hand man, a title that made you glow with pride. 

And yet, you still dressed the same way. 

Of course, your wardrobe had expanded to include some cold weather outfits, but it was still a mess of chiffons, silks, and expensive furs. You still wore the collar, but Din had insisted on one slight change. You and him visited his armorer, a reserved woman who never removed her helmet, no matter the circumstances, and Din had her make you a pendant for the collar. A beautiful mudhorn signet, just like his. It sat on the dip between your collarbones, the cold metal a constant reminder of your connections to Din. 

“Ready?” He asked, holding his hand out. You were about to step out onto Coruscant to make a deal with several other planet’s leaders. You had draped yourself in embroidered blue silks and chiffon, the collar on display and the hem of the skirt sweeping the floor. It was a fancy occasion that called for fancy clothes. And yet, Din was beside you in his armor, no decorations or anything. 

You nodded. Despite the importance of this meeting and the horrible terror of the various what ifs, you were calm. “Of course. Are you?” 

Din chuckled. He’d put his helmet on, but you could still gauge his facial expressions. “Sure.” 

Stepping off the ship together, you knew people would talk. They always did, exchanging hushed whispers behind their hands. Maybe, if you weren’t dressed as you were, the whispers wouldn’t be as prominent. But you enjoyed your outfits, and didn’t mind the quiet gossip one bit. 

In the end, it was only Din who you sought to please. He was your equal, and yet he was your superior. You desired his smile, his pleased moods, and you would do anything to make him happy. After all, you were there to serve your king.

[poormeowmeowcollector]

Trying To Balance With A Part Of Yourself Missing

Summary: Thor bargains with Odin on Loki's sentence, and he wins. Loki is moved with the Avengers to fix his past mistakes. But Odin's term changes everything, and Loki's foe is not their mistakes, but their self-image.

Warnings: each chapter has individual, the work in general is pretty dark

Notes: When a dialogue of Loki is in bold, he is speaking English. And when a line is in italics without a dialogue, it's an intrusive thought.

Chapter 5: The Doctor

Chapter summary: Banner takes Loki for the tests.

Warnings: Language, gender dysphoria, gender dysmorphia, internalized racism, intrusive thoughts, needles, blood, medical themes, mentions of child neglect [not on screen], mentions of self harm [not on screen]

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This time, Friday wakes them up, reminding them of the appointment with Banner. Loki groans and drags himself out of the bed and into the bathroom, it's better to get rid of that smell, at least for as long as it can hold.

At least Loki doesn't have to look at their body as they wash themselves, an advantage of blindness they didn't think of until now. Still, being forced to touch all the time is unpleasant and uncomfortable to no end. And trying to wash his hair without scratching his hands on the horns or his claws scratching his scalp is a task unimaginably difficult.

Loki now understands why Jötnar run around naked, wearing a shirt with these horns is almost impossible. But, they must hide the chest plate, at least from everyone but Thor. And Banner, after the examination. And, shit, he probably has to take breakfast with them…

They sigh and glance at the mirror, only to make sure they don't look so much for a mess. His appearance is acceptable, so he takes the now charged earpiece and walks away, wearing it as Friday starts instructing.

A hand touches their shoulder, making them flinch away. Thor, the owner of the hand, mutters something, probably an apology, but he can't hear it thanks to Friday. They take a breath out and smile at Thor, muttering a good morning. Thankfully, Friday stops talking.

"How are you feeling? You look…" Thor trails off, trying to appear as polite as possible.

"F-f-feverish? It's fi-fine, just-just a b-bad day," he brushes off, suddenly glad that he doesn't need Friday's translations.

"But, you're ill," Thor argues, making Loki sigh.

"I'm not-not, it's a bad d-day," they answer.

"Loki, you can't fool me. You're unwell, why don't you admit it?" he groans. Truth be told, Loki rarely admits any weakness with ease. As long as one can walk, there's no need for whining, Odin had said countless times and Loki never stopped obeying.

"I d-d-do. It's a b-bad da-day," he speaks slowly and as clearly as possible.

"Loki, you're having a fever. It's not just a bad day, and you are allowed to admit that you're ill. Please," Thor begs, actually begs. If Loki wasn't so pissed off, they'd be touched.

He pulls Thor closer, mostly to maintain some secrecy. "I am on m-m-my pe-pe-period," they hiss, watching as Thor's last brain cell comes to life.

"Oh… well, this explains the irritability of yours, brother. You know your patience always runs low these days," Thor nods, all matter-of-factly. Loki has to take deep breaths and remind themselves again and again that murder is a convicted crime, and they should not get locked up in a Midgardian prison. Or any prison, anytime soon.

Luckily, Thor remains silent after that. The only one who breaks the silence is Friday, reminding Loki that he can't eat before a blood test, or the results will not be accurate. Fine, they didn't really feel hungry anyway.

Perhaps, if you skip today's food entirely, you'll lose that disgusting bloating of yours. He tries hard to not grimace at the thought. No, they have to remind themselves, it will leave after a few days, it always does. Just do the damn tests and then eat, it's not that hard.

When they reach the kitchen, Loki can feel eyes on him and a mix of confusion and irritation in the air. Alright, just stay quiet and it will pass.

Wanda mutters a good morning, her magic swirling around her like some form of shield or blanket. Loki repeats the wish, forcing a smile. They don’t know which is worse, the jealousy building up or the guilt over the last time they listened to that feeling.

Thor helps him find a chair in the bright chaos, and even pulls it. For fucks sake, they're not unable to sit on a fucking chair! He tries to prove it by being the one who adjusts it on the table.

"Morning, dude. How're you feeling?" a man asks, Wilson. Just by his voice, he sounds kind, less judgemental.

"Fine, thank you for asking," they answer, plastering another fake smile (one of the best skills being a prince has given them).

Still, Wanda is seeing through it and attempts to find out, by using a simple mind invading spell. One that makes the base of Loki's skull feel ablaze. As loud as he can, he thinks of the word stop, making Wanda pause and retreat, her curiosity replaced with shame.

Then, a conversation occurs. Loki doesn't want to take part, but the combination of the voices and Friday's translations is overwhelming, making his head pound. Friday catches the message and stops translating, but the voices are still too fucking loud. Loki sighs and decides to just take a sip of water, and see if it'll help, but it turns to ice before it touches their lips. But fuck, he's thirsty and in pain.

A hand touches their shoulder, and they jump up, turning around to see a short person dressed in purple. "Are you ready for the tests?" He asks, Banner. Loki nods and gets up, pardoning himself before walking away.

"Are you okay?" he asks, making Loki groan.

"Wh-wh-wh-why does e-e-everyone ask me-me if I'm okay? I'm f-f-fine!" they snap, stopping only after feeling Banner freeze.

"I asked because you looked like you were about to start crying over there. No offence, they can be loud sometimes, but you didn't seem like you were taking it well," he answers, half expecting his skull to be crushed. But Loki is just ashamed he didn't hide the pain better.

"N-n-n-none t-taken. Noise is not exactly we-we-we-welcome, and I used to to-to-tone it down w-w-with spells. Now, I c-c-c-can't," they explain, just beginning to collect themselves.

"You know, you can ask Friday to deafen, if you use the earpieces. It helps," he suggests. Loki nods, happy with the silence that they fall into. At least Banner doesn't feel like he has to talk all the time, even though he's nervous. He's still afraid of him, even though it's not necessary any more.

The lab is a fucking bright room, Loki has to cover their eyes and let Banner navigate them, after lowering the lights.

During the examination, Loki comes to realize that Asgard and Midgard are opposite when it comes to healing. First, Banner promises secrecy, any information stays private until Loki asks for a leak, or in a life or death situation. And then, he just asks about everything and listens to the answer. No doubt, no comments and no painful examinations with leeches or smelly potions that make people’s skin pink. Well, the examination on light sensitivity was painful, and Loki swears to piss on the grave of whoever thought a flashlight in the eyes is a good idea, but the rest were fine.

When he was young, Odin would not easily believe Loki, no matter what. The times when they were forced in hunts that were leaving them in the healing wing for weeks or feasts until they faint on their plate due to fever are uncountable. The show would usually begin with Loki faking the illness because he’s lazy, come to its climax when Loki would be deemed delicate and weak while being tossed in the healing wing and the parade of hypocrisy would end after Loki returns to his chamber only to be forgotten there. Loki learned two lessons from this. One, if they can stand up, they're not ill, and they shouldn't bother other people with whining. And two, if he's truly ill, it's wiser to deal with it on his own than let others draw conclusions.

The change feels so odd, yet it’s so welcome.

Until the time for the blood test.

"Just follow my instructions, I'll make it as painless as I can," he promises, and then instructs Loki to lift their sleeve and show the armpit, the non-dominant one. Loki doesn't show his nervousness, and tries to appear as cold as possible when he reveals the hand, and everything he's done to it. Banner doesn't comment and doesn't show pity, but his skin grows just green enough for Loki's eyes to notice.

The other instructions were easy. Clench the fist, breathe in, breathe out and relax the hand. Banner is surprised to say the least when he sees the tube filling with blue liquid instead of red, but doesn't comment.

Do you think he could bleed you dry and be done with this shit show? Loki hitches a breath and clinches their stomach, stopping when the sound of something breaking and a hot pain blooms in their arm. Did he freeze the tube and break the needle?

Banner fetches something from a table and grabs Loki's hand, muttering something about getting the needle out. Loki hisses from the pain, and manages to freeze Banner's glove, but he still covers their hand with gauzes. The white starts turning blue and freezing in some parts, Banner is about to do something about it but Loki hums a no.

"Do you want to try again?" he asks, Loki could feel how he was expecting a negative answer. But he nods a yes and covers his right hand, so he’ll uncover the left one and clench. This time, they don't dare looking at the needle and mentally play some random songs for a distraction. Banner tells him to clench again, and then gives him some cotton to press in the hole before he vanishes behind some machine.

"What were you humming?" Banner asks, making Loki's face go ablaze.

"I… em… a song," they mutter, and mentally berate themselves for the lack of words. Banner laughs, but not out of malice. And he hands over a paper box and a bag. Loki stares at him and tilts his head, but Banner tries to brush it off as "something that's always done when someone gets a blood test". As if Loki is also a fool, apart from blind.

They're about to get dismissed and leave when Friday tell them via the earpiece that Banner will ask questions when he sees the test results. Loki sighs, it's better to be the one who tells him, right?

"Ba-banner, about th-th-the te-te-te-test, y-you may so-see some… abnormalities in th-th-the tests. It's n-normal, yet-yet-yet uncomfortable," they trail off, feeling confusion on Banner's side instead of clarity.

"Would you mind being more specific? I need to know what to ignore,"

"Hormonal, m-mostly… on, em…" he groans in frustration, feeling like an absolute fool, "on me-me-menstruation hormones… and y-y-yes, I kn-know wh-what it implies. B-but, d-don't tell anyone, only Th-th-th-thor knows," they get it out, waiting for a myriad of feeling emit from Banner. But he just makes a small oh sound and hands over another paper package.

"I guess you'll find them easier than tampons. If you finish them, just come to me. Don't try to steal Nat's, you'll be disappointed, and possibly earn a chinned tooth," he smiles, but Loki can sense the warmth from saying Romanov's name. Love, he concludes, what a complication when towards your co-worker, from what he's heard.

"W-w-w-we're done?" they raise an eyebrow and look down at Banner, glad he doesn't look afraid. Interesting, just enough inspection, and he isn't afraid any more. What a gullible scientist.

"Friday will find anything we missed, and she can help Tony make you some glasses, if you decide you want them, or inspect the brain damage from the other guy," he answers. Loki nods and is about to turn around, before thinking twice about the answer he got.

"W-w-wait, wh-wh-wh-what brain d-damage?" they blink. Apart from the nightmares, thoughts, flashbacks, headaches and general fuckery, his brain works perfectly. Well, perfectly might be an exaggeration, but the Hulk hasn’t done anything.

"You're telling me you walked around with a dead ear since the Attack and didn't notice?" Banner is now the one to raise an eyebrow.

"I w-w-was in so-so-solitary c-c-confinement until y-y-yesterday. Not much to h-h-h-hear," they explain. But… he should have heard Thor coming today in the corridor…

"Yeah, your left ear is dead, or the nerves getting messages from there to your brain. You can thank the other guy, and there's nothing to be done," he isn't exactly mild on announcing another damage on this throughout fucked up body, but it doesn't exactly matter. So, they just nod and go back to hiding under their sheets, but this time they make Friday play some music, just to cover up the silence.

~~~~~~

Taglist: @lucywrites02 @electroma89 @the-emo-asgardian @rorybutnotgilmore @hybrid-in-progress @weirdfangirl2416 @darkacademicfrom2021 @nicoistrying

[supernaturallyobsessedchic]

Emergency! Part 3

Summary: A woman comes back from her trip from Asia but isn’t feeling the best. And is rushed to the hospital. Her symptoms are that of the flue, but worse than. The virus spreads throughout the hospital, Jack falls ill collapsing in the break room. Dean falls ill on a rescue, Cas having to rescue the original victim and his partner. The reader, having to sit by and wait and pray for her friends pull through. But turns out the original patient with the virus got better, now her body has the antibodies to fight the virus.

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean x Nurse!Reader

Word Count: 4,262

Warnings: Scary Situations, Language, Mild Angst, Fluff.

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Mobile Masterlist

a/n: I could use the corona virus or COVID-19 but decided to use the virus used in the Emergency! Episode of the same name. The virus being a strain of the Asian flu during a bad outbreak in the late 60’s. Also the drugs and measure mentioned are probably not accurate, I’m not a pharmacist.

a/n2: D.O.N = Director of Nursing, DOA = Dead on Arrival, BP = Blood Pressure, O2 Sat = Oxygen Saturation

~

“Dean,” Cas says, walking into the fire stations garage.

Dean was logging supplies in the squad truck when he heard Cas enter and got his attention.

“What’s up Cas?”

“When you started dating Y/N, when did you know she was the one?”

“What do you mean?”

“I really like Meg, and when she was taking care of me after that accident of mine I found that she and I have a lot in common and I want to know her more?”

“Well, Cas, it’s different for other people. Just ask Meg out. Talk to her, find out stuff about her that she likes, hates, and if you can find yourself still able to love her despite her flaws. Keep it going. Keep taking her out.”

“You make it sound so simple.”

“Nothing in life is simple man.”

Cas nods in agreement.

The alarm sounded in the station.

“Squad 51, someone sick. Respond. 226 south Jasper’s Avenue, cross street South Walker boulevard.”

“Back at it again.” Cas says.

“Let’s hit it.”

Dean getting into his usual spot in the squad, revving the engine to life and heading to the location.

When they arrived, another station had arrived originally.

Dean and Cas gathered their tools and headed into the residence.

“Chuck, what do you got?” Cas asked.

“Kelly McMeyers, 22, her dad said she was fine at breakfast.”

They followed Fireman Chuck through the house to the girl’s bedroom to find her on her bed, sweating, pale and in obvious discomfort and pain.

Dean placed a hand on her head.

“She’s burning up, Cas, get the thermometer.”

Cas did as told handing the thermometer to Dean.

Dean placed in the girls mouth, under her tongue. Cas handing him the blood pressure cuff.

Dean began checking her Blood pressure.

“Get the radio, we need to tell the hospital.” Dean orders.

Cas, pulls out the radio of it’s holster on his belt.

“Rampart, this is rescue 51. Rampart this is rescue five one.” Cas radios in.

 It was a normal slow day at the hospital, y/n having finished her charting, getting reading for her lunch break.

“Rampart this is rescue 51,” she heard Cas’s voice over the radio.  “Rampart this is rescue Five one.”

She picks up the hand piece to the hospital’s radio to respond.

“Go ahead 51.”

“Rampart we have a female, Kelly McMeyers, 22 years of age.” Cas transmits.

 “BP is 129 over 80, O2 Saturation is…”

Dean places a hand over her chest, watching it rise and fall. Counting in his head. But scolding with the low number he came up with.

“Did you pack the pulse Oximeter?”

“I did.” Cas says, handing it to him.

“I got to double check before I give you the wrong number.”

Dean turned on the device, and placing it on her finger.

“Still reading low, O2 Sat, 85.” Dean says.

“O2 sat is 85. Temperature is coming up…”

Dean pulls out the thermometer.”

“105.” He reads.

“Temperature is 105.”

 y/n was shocked she had a temperature that high.

“51, standby, a doctor will be with you shortly.”

“10-4.”

 “I just don’t understand, she was fine at breakfast, it happened so suddenly.” The girl’s father expressed.

“Some of these things do happen rather quickly.”

“Could be the Asian Flu?” Chuck suggests. Playing with the girl’s pet monkey.

“Well, let’s not jump to any conclusions until a doctor can see her.” Cas says.

“Kelly, sweetheart, can you hear me?” Dean asks.

The girl nods groggily.

“She’s really drowsy.” Cas mentions.

“Kelly, are you in any pain at all?” Dean asks.

“My head hurts, my chest hurts too.” She whines.

“She threw up a bit before you got here Winchester.” Chuck mentions.

 “51, this is doctor Singer.”

“Rampart, we have new information, patient is experiencing head and chest pain, she’s drowsy and vomited a few times before we arrived.”

“Alright, start IV, lidocaine, two milligrams. And just in case what she has is contagious keep contact with the patient to an absolute minimum.”

“10-4 Rampart.” Cas says.

“I’ll get the IV going, if you want to get the ambulance here Chuck.”

“Already ahead of you, they should be here by now.”

Sirens are heard in the distance, as if on cue.

“How about that timing?” Cas says.

“Alright, she’s set, lets get her to the hospital.” Dean says.

Just as more paramedics came in, Dean grabbed the equipment as Cas walked out with the patient.

Chuck still petting the monkey.

“I love monkeys, bet he’d be a cute pet to have.” He says.

“Yeah, but they’re not meant to be pets Chuck.”

“Yeah, I know. But, cute little guy, isn’t he?”

The monkey sat on his pole that stood in the room. And the monkey started walking over to Dean, walking on his shoulder, messing with his hat.

“Hey, stop,” he told the monkey while trying to shake him off gently.

The monkey got back on his pole as Dean walked out to the squad.

 At the hospital, Y/N, Doctor Singer assisted in the patient, Kelly McMeyer, as Doctor Singer preformed a spinal tap.

Just as he pulled out the needle, gathering spinal fluid, Doctor Kline walks in.

“What’d you got Bobby?”

“Possible strain of the flu, her symptoms are consistent with that of the Asian flu, but the incubation period is too fast. Her symptoms came up quick, she was fine at breakfast.”

“Do we know where she’s been lately?”

“All over southeast Asia, Kelly and her friends were part of her church’s mission trip in assisting kids in orphanages, and adoption homes. Fixing them up, helping kids get adopted. And her dad took her camping when she got back. Took her to the Black Hills in South Dakota.” y/n explained.

“That opens us up to a whole array of fevers, and of course flus. China is always riddled with noval viruses we’ve never seen nor dealt with. And of course, there’s ones we’ve dealt with her, rocky mountain spotted fever, lymes disease, or even parasitic infections. Fungal infections that could have originated from her camping trip.” Jack explained.

“Did Kelly have any kind of protection on either trip?” Jack asked.

“Her dad made sure she packed, bug spray, tick spray, and they had nets around their camp to prevent nats and other flying insects from getting in the tents.” Y/N says.

“So, in which case, we’re back to, what did she catch when she was in China. Because chances of her getting anything on the camping trip are slim I’m guessing.”

“Her dad was pretty adamant that they were covered for their trip. He didn’t want anyone getting sick.”

Jack nods.

“Let’s get some blood work, see if we can’t find the answer in there.”

“You got it doctor.” y/n says, getting her hands sanitized, and ready to draw some blood.

 “Dean, your shift was done an hour ago, go home!” His father ordered.

“Just finishing up the logs for the day.”

“Cas can finish it up for you, he at least goes home in an hour. Now go.”

“Yes sir, you sure you got this man?” Dean asks.

“Dean, I got it. Go home and rest. See you in two days.”

Dean handed Cas the papers for logging their day, what all happened, their end result. He grabbed the keys to his Impala and drove on home.

He could tell he was exhausted. At a stop light he had to really will himself to stay awake just a few more miles.

But as he got to another stop light, he knew he was too tired to be driving.

Y/N’s apartment wasn’t far. He moved lanes before her street came up and Dean drove to her apartment. Giving her a call to make sure she was either up or home.

“Hey Handsome, how was your day?” she asked.

He could hear the background of the hospital.

“Exhausting. Are you still at work?”

“Yeah, another late one. Why? Are you in the area?” she asked. Sounding concerned.

“I’m really exhausted, and I don’t think I’m gonna make it home. I was thinking on crashing at your place.”

“You can stay there Dean; my key is by my hanging plant. I think your clothes from last time are still there.”

“Thanks baby, where would I be without you?”

“Dead in a ditch because you’ve run yourself ragged, now hurry to my place and get to bed. I’ll home when I can.”

“Love you sweetheart.” He says with a tired smile, pulling into her apartment complex.

“Love you more Winchester, sleep well.” She says.

He parked his car near where she parked. Walking up tiredly up to her apartment he found her key easily.

He headed inside, placing the key back but also locking up behind him as he got himself settled.

She had since gotten a new apartment since the plane crash; sure she was farther away from the hospital, but she was closer to him by several blocks.

He had gotten out of the shower, feeling a little bit better, but he climbed into his side in her bed. Pulling the covers over him, and falling fast asleep once his head hit the pillow.

She had hurried with her charting, her replacement nurse coming in late. But at least she showed up.

She hurried to her car to get on home.

She saw Dean’s car parked next to her spot on the street. She parked her car right behind his.

She quietly entered the apartment. Leaving the lights off she navigated to her room seeing his sleeping form in her bed. Sound asleep.

She made her shower quick and simple, washing off the stress of the day and relaxing enough so she could fall easily asleep.

She climbs into bed beside him. He tossed, turning towards her, wrapping his arms around her.

Poor dude was exhausted. But Dean was no fool, he loved being the little spoon. Maybe too much. But when it was her, he didn’t care too much.

 Days followed, and the original patient began to go downhill. Her fever wasn’t breaking.

Y/N had finished getting Kelly’s vitals, updated her chart. She headed back out to the nurses station when she saw an ambulance dropping off a new patient.

“What do we have?” she asked.

“Fireman, Chuck Shirley. Stricken with a fever, 104 temp, slightly elevated BP.” One of the paramedics informed.

“He was fine at lunch time.” His wife said behind the paramedics.

“Are you his wife?” Y/N asked.

“I am, my name’s Becky.”

“Okay, I’ll escort you to the waiting room. I’ll keep you informed of your husbands situation.” y/n told her.

Becky nodded, and she was lead to the waiting room. Y/N walked back into one of the exam rooms.

Hours passed as the doctors looked over Chuck, they learned one thing in common.

He responded to Kelly McMeyers.

“I want everyone who responded to get checked out. Clearly we are up against something contagious.” Jack orders.

“I’ll get right on it.” y/n says.

 As the day wore on, Y/N had called all the stations that responded, the ambulance and even called up her boyfriend personally.

“Afternoon beautiful.” Dean answers.

“Hey babe, you responded on the Kelly McMeyers right?”

“I did, me and Cas both, why?”

“Chuck Shirley is sick with the same symptoms as Kelly, and Dr. Kline has ordered you two to come in and get checked out.”

“Is it really that bad?”

“Dean, Chuck looked bad. Come in, please.” She practically whined.

“Okay, I will. Don’t worry sweetheart. I have to come down for supplies anyway, I’ll bring Cas along.”

“Thank you. See you soon.”

Just as Dean and Cas left the hospital after giving their blood samples to be checked for any virus or uprising in white blood cell count. Questions rose to how and where the original patient got sick.

“Whatever this Kelly chick has must be bad.” Dean says as he drove back to the station.

“Must be, if she didn’t get while camping then where?” Cas asks.

For a beat there was a pause.

“The same place where she got her pet monkey.” Cas says.

“You really think that monkey is the carrier?” Dean asks, unsure.

“Think about it Dean. It’s always animals in other countries that carry all these scary viruses. Swine flu came from pigs. Avian flu came from birds. The Asian flu came from, well, Asia but it was ducks. What if, this monkey one of those viruses and was somehow able to transmit it overseas?” Cas explained.

“You should really be a doctor something, damn Cas.” Dean says, impressed with the information Cas was able to share.

“Also think of the movie Outbreak.”

“Dude, that wasn’t even a real virus.”

“No, but it was a real situation that can really happen. It’s the worst case scenario. But it was a monkey carrying a mutated version of the virus.”

“I think you’re onto something Cas.” Dean says, digging around in his pockets.

“Here, call my girlfriend, tell her what you told me.”

“Okay.” Cas says.

 “Hello?”

“Y/N, it’s Cas, you got a minute?”

“How’s Dean?” she asked concerned right away.

“Oh, he’s fine, we were just talking about the victims. She brought home a pet monkey from China. And Chuck was playing with it.”

“That is actually something Cas, thanks. Is there anything else we need to know?”

“Not really, but just for the fact that this monkey might carry a virus that could kill Kelly and our friend.”

“And you’re spot on, on that. I’ll tell Jack and Bobby. Thanks Cas.”

 At the hospital, the two doctors were at the nurses station when Cas called. Their attention on her when she seemed surprised with the information he given her.

“Cas of squad 51 just told me Kelly brought home a pet monkey from China. And that Chuck played with it.”

“That’s something, Bobby, get someone to go with Kelly’s dad back to his house. Get the monkey and bring the little guy in.”

“You got it Jack.”

 Cas had handed Dean his phone back.

“You know, Cas,” he says.

Cas doesn’t say anything but has his attention.

“I kind of played with the monkey too.”

 The next following day, Kelly was slowly getting better. But Chuck was taking a turn for the worse. His fever wasn’t breaking.

Jack goes into Kelly’s room to talk to her about her monkey.

A nurse was already in the room taking care of her.

“Abaddon why aren’t you wearing your mask?”

“Oh, sorry Doctor its just—”

“No excuses, you’re taking an unnecessary risk. Not only would you be putting your life at risk, you’re putting everyone else’s lives at risk as well.”

With that she put her mask over her mouth and nose.

“Kelly,” Jack says.

She opened her eyes slowly giving the doctor his attention.

“We got your pet down in the lab. Now, was he ever sick when you had him?”

“Yes, just after I bought him. He had a bad cold, and threw up a bit too.”

“Well in order to help the fireman, and you as well, we may have to put him down so we can perform an autopsy.”

“No, you can’t!” she cried. “I don’t know what I’d do without Oreo!”

“Kelly, it’s the only chance we have at saving lives.”

The tears that built up in the girls eyes fell. Jack took his gloved finger by her cheek, brushing away the tears that fell.

“If you’re right about that,” she swallows thickly. “Then you can take Oreo.”

“Could help you too Kelly.” Abaddon says.

“I know.”

Jack gave a sad smile through his mask.

He doffed off his PPE by the door and left her room to give the go ahead.

 “Dean, we have a group of kids from Jefferson Elementary School to come in for a tour, can you help Gabe clean up the garage real quick.”

“Dad, I’m really exhausted, can you get Cas to do it?”

“It’s not like you to complain, come on now. He’s busy with the logs, come on it won’t take long.”

The alarm sounded.

“Never mind.” John says.

“Station 51, medical emergency. At the top of the Wells Fargo bank at 5535 Woodland Boulevard. Cross street Jackson Avenue.”

The men and women at station 51 jumped into action.

 At the location they climbed up the stairs after they reached the max floor the elevator would allow to go.

“What happened?” John asked one of the men working on the roof.

“Jimmy was over the edge cleaning the windows and he let out a yell, and I saw him collapse. I tried getting him on this thing but it’s jammed.”

“We’ll get him, we’ll hoist one of my paramedics down to get a line on him and we’ll bring him up.” John assured.

“I’ll go.” Dean says.

“Why don’t we just swing the lift through a window?” Cas asks.

“There wouldn’t be a safe way to do it. Just, get me down to him. Drop a line for him and he’ll be up here before you can say Bobs your uncle.” Dean says.

“Just be careful man.” Cas says.

“I will dude.”

Dean has the ropes around him, his harness, Gabe, Michael and Raphael anchored his rope as they helped lower him down.

“Okay, more slack!” Dean shouts as he got closer to the victim.

He got safely on to the lift and began to work the rope around the victim so they could lift him up.

But Dean’s vision began to spin. His hands came up to hold the support of the lift.

“Dean, you okay!?” Cas shouts from the ledge.

“Yeah!”

Dean hurries to get the rope around the victim and tries to work on tying the knot.

His dizziness got worse, and worse. Just as he was about to ask for help, Dean passes out.

His body falling off of the lift, and hangs by his harness off of the ledge.

“Try lifting him up a bit!” Cas ordered.

The three brothers tried pulling the rope slightly.

Cas could see Dean wasn’t getting any higher.

“No, stop, he’s tangled. I’m gonna have to head down there.” Cas says.

He heads over to Charlie who handed him some rope, getting the lopes around him, and working his harness on.

Cas hurries over the ledge.

Gabe, Michael, and Raphael tied Dean’s rope to hold him steady as they lowered Cas down to the lift.

“More slack!” Cas ordered as he got closer.  

Cas removed his work gloves to check the victims pulse.

“He’s in full cardiac arrest!” Cas shouts out, communicating.

Cas finishes what Dean had going. Connecting the loops around the victims arms and legs making a makeshift harness.

“Okay, lift him up!” Cas calls out.

The victim slowly rising as Gab, Michael and Raphael pulled the rope lifting the victim up.

“Dean, can you hear me man?” Cas asked, trying to lift Dean onto the lift.

He didn’t respond. He was out cold.

Cas furrowed his brow as he grew concerned for his friend.

“Okay, lift him up!” Cas ordered.

Cas seen the original victim made it over the ledge safely. And Dean began to slowly rise up to the top.

Once everyone was safely up, they got Cas up as well.

Cas helped with the cardiac victim while Charlie and the others assisted with Dean.

 Y/N sat at the nurses station charting her days work about ready to head home when an ambulance and squad approached the door.

She quickly typed up her report, saving it and sending it to her Director, she went to assist the paramedics.

Her heart dropped when she saw one of the patients being wheeled in.

“Dean.”

“Patient one was DOA, heart attack. Dean has a fever of 104.” Cas says.

“Okay, there’s an exam room open, lets get him in there. I’ll page Dr. Singer.”

“Where’s Jack?” Cas asked.

“He’s sick too. He was about to treat Kelly and Chuck when he collapsed. His fever is 103 and climbing.”

“How is Chuck?”

“Not doing well. Let’s focus on Dean please.” Y/N said, keeping the tears of fear at bay.

 Dean was all settled in a room later that night.

“Y/N.” Bobby says as he entered Dean’s room.

“Dr. Singer.”

“Your director doesn’t want you treating him. It’s against ethics.”

“I know. I’m off the clock.”

“Then what are you still doing here?”

“Oh, forgive me for staying by my boyfriend’s side.”

“Y/N, you’re D.O.N is on the other side of the this door. Relax.” He whispered.

“Bobby, I can’t think straight right now. I want to stay by his side, if that’s alright.”

“You can’t just stop everything because he’s sick. The CDC got back to us on the virus, you know this. It’s a strain of the Asian flu, a newer mutated strain. We have a drug we can use.”

She sighs, rubbing her face hard, trying to not get frustrated with herself.

“I know. I just want to know he’s going to be okay is all.”

“You love him. I know. But you have to still live life. Because that don’t stop. You got to keep going kid.”

She nods. “I’m guessing I can’t stay with him due to isolation protocol.”

“You got it. but once he’s better, you can.” She nods again.

“Please, keep me in the loop with him.”

“I’m sure Meg will. Cas was already on her case about him.”

She chuckles with a nod.

“Go home and rest. He’ll still be here tomorrow.”

She nods, leaving with a slump in her shoulders. Heading to her car. Driving quietly home.

It wasn’t until she got out of her shower, and laid in her empty bed did she let her walls come crumbling down.

A sob escaped from her, shaking her to her core.

“God, Dean. Please be okay.” She sobbed.

 The next day, she heads into work trying to focus on her patients.

She learned from one of the over night nurses that Chuck passed away.

Her anxiety already being high enough with her boyfriend being sick with the same virus, but the same virus that killed a fireman.

She headed up to Dean’s room where Meg walked out. Sweating after being in her PPE for some period of time.

“How is he?” she asks.

“Not good. His fever is not even breaking. He had the first 100 Milligrams of Idoxuridine.”

“Has it been two hours?”

“Close, it’s been about an hour and fifty minutes since last dose.”

“Give him another dose of it. Same for Jack if he’s not getting better.”

“Sure thing, I’m sure Bobby will understand.”

Y/N nodded as Meg went back inside to give Dean another dose of the drug.

Y/N headed back to the nurses station to chart her first half of the shift when her D.O.N approached the desk.

“Y/N, I was told you were by Dean’s room yet again. This time on the clock.”

“Sorry Jody, I just—”

“It’s okay, really. Bobby can be a hard ass sometimes, and I know I can be too. But my husband gets sick really easily. And I’d do the same thing you’re doing.” She says.

“Thank you…” she hesitates.

“I have your replacement coming in so you can see him and be with him. Once Donna gets here, go to him.”

“Thank you, thank you.” She says, as tears rise to the surface.

“It’s not a problem.” Jody smiles.

 Days pass as the doctors and nursing staff cared for Dean and Jack for the virus.

Y/N stayed day and night, her D.O.N giving her the week off on FMLA.

She had lost track of the days when she finally allowed herself to sleep.

Kelly was fully recovered and the doctors and nursing staff encouraged her to donate some blood so they can use her antibodies in her blood to donate to Dean and Jack so they have a fighting chance.

His fever finally broke, he was getting better. She could close her eyes and he’d still be there.

She woke that night to a hand on her head, playing with her hair.

She stirred awake to find Dean awake and well.

“Hey.” She says tiredly.

“Hey.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been hit by a truck.” He answers. “Babe, did you stay here all day?”

“Dean, it’s been a week. You’ve been out for a week.”

“Damn…but still, you’ve been here all week?”

“Yes. You scared me.” She says. Taking his hand and placing it on her cheek.

His thumb brushing against her cheekbone. Catching a tear that fell.

“Well I’m sorry for scaring you. But you’re worrying me, did you take care of yourself while you were here?”

“Not really. Haven’t been hungry. I’m not sick or anything.”

“I know, you’ve told me that you’ll get this way. Either in a good way, like an innocent way of binging your favorite show and forgot to eat. Or in a bad way, like this.”

“Let me get Meg and tell her you’re awake.”

Just as she says that, Meg comes walking in.

“Jack’s awake…oh Dean’s awake too.” She says.

“Yeah, he is.” Y/N Says tiredly.

“I’ll get Dr. Singer so we can see when you can go home. And get Y/N to a bed, she hasn’t slept much since she stayed here.”

“Really, not eating or sleeping.”

“She was worked up. who could blame her?” Meg asked.

“True.”

Meg left the room to get Bobby.

Dean not saying a word, pulls Y/N’s arm guiding her in the bed with him.

She happily got in, curling into his side.

He felt a residual tremble shudder through her body.

“Shh, I’m here baby. I’m not going anywhere.” He says.

Not even a tiny virus would tear up this team.

~

A/N: Did you enjoy? How are you liking it so far? Favorites yet? Feedback is fuel and much appreciated. :3

~

Dean Girls:

@pandazombie69​, @luci-in-trenchcoats​, @supernatural-jackles​, @becs-bunker​, @winchesters-favorite-girl​, @jayankles​, @jeaniespiehs20​, @mlovesstories​, @akshi8278​, @flamencodiva​, @anotherspnfanfic​, @megzdoodle​, @lyarr24​

~

Copying and reposting someone else’s content is plagiarism and illegal. This work is property of supernaturallyobsessedchic. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher. An electronic reference link to the original posted work may be provided for purposes of promotion or assistance of publication by the readers discretion, if proper credits are given to the author in the re-post. 3/23/2021

[mappinglasirena]

Bothersome Beams in Sirena’s Sickbay

You know how I’ve drawn a clean layout of the Captain’s Quarters to make it reflect the room as seen on screen by e.g. erasing the false door, adding in furniture and marks for the windows, etc? I've been doing that for a bunch of other places as well (toooootally not because I’m procrastinating the two Deep Dives I should be working on....), and a few days ago I started on sickbay. And now I'm stuck.

I've been staring at this so long my brain is turning to mush, so now you all get to suffer with me!

(Fair warning: there be loads of extremely pedantic observations ahead. I hope you like staring at deck plans :D)

This is the outline of sickbay on the deck plans from the blu-ray Set Me Up featurette:

(For orientation and because it will become important later: The front of the ship is on the right-hand side, the back is on the left.)

A quick reminder of the relevant main features: the round part of sickbay has walls that slope outward towards the top, a counter running along the wall around 2/5 of the way up, and three support beams cutting through the wall and the counter.

(Note that in reality, the beams are all straight across the top; they just appear curved here due to lense distortion.)

Looking at the concentric circles in the outline above, let’s try to figure out what’s what. Easiest: the broken grey lines, i.e. the largest two circles, surely must be where the wall meets the ceiling at its widest extension. (Here marked in blue.)

Next, when we look at the transition between the rectangular alcove at the back of the room (marked “med bay” in the plan) and the round “lab area”, we see that it’s smooth and there is no step in between.

(Again: the walls are straight, not curved, it looks that way because of lense effects.)

Given that and the thickness of the line, I think it’s safe to assume this is the outline of the wall, most likely at floor level:

These, as far as I can tell, are the windows at the front of the room, next to the door.

As you can see, they extend almost to the top of the wall and stop short of the unidentified outer circle. Looking at a screenshot...

...the windows sit right above the counter, so it makes sense that the remaining lines would be the outline of said counter (here in green):

So far so good.

Here’s the rub. I was trying to figure out what the vertical lines dividing the counter next to the support beams might be, when I noticed these four bits:

Those look like the places where the support beams cut through the counter.

That makes sense, right?

As you’ve probably noticed before, these beams run throughout the entire ship. We see them everywhere on the upper and lower deck, they are clearly the skeleton that holds Sirena together. You can tell how important they are to the structural integrity because all the deck plans have these vertical, broken grey lines to indicate where the beams are located.

Now, take another look at the markings where the beam towards the back of the room cuts through the counter (I magnified the one on the bottom left):

As you can see pretty clearly, the marking in the counter doesn’t line up with the normal position of the beams, indicated by the broken grey lines. It isn’t off by much. My rough estimate so far is that the beams are about a foot wide with seven feet between them, so this is a difference of maybe 15cm (~6″, apparently). But something is clearly strange here.

You can tell there’s something different at the back of the room, because where the beams in the middle and front are marked by long rectangles, the one in the back is only a small square. It looks almost as if there was only a single column on either side. If that was the case, it would probably mean that the beam at the back of the room was a fake, not technically connected to the beams at the rest of the ship like the middle and front ones.

But does that mean it was also moved a few centimetres further to the front? This has been driving me nuts.

There are a few possible explanations for what might be happening here.

1. I am wrong about those being the markers for where the beams cut through the counter. That is entirely possible.

2. Some changes were made to the set that aren’t yet reflected in this version of the layout. As I said elsewhere, these plans aren’t quite accurate to the final set in all details (e.g. the two steps between the mess hall and sickbay aren’t marked), so it’s possible that this is some intermediate version where the counter design varies a little from its final configuration.

3. The support beams at the back of sickbay do not line up with the beams in the rest of the ship. The production designers decided that they wanted sickbay to be the exact size we see in the plans, but for some logistical or aesthetic reason, having the beams at the back of the room in the logical position (i.e. parallel to the ones on the upper deck) didn’t work, so they moved them forward a little bit.

I cannot tell you how long I spent over the weekend trying to make heads or tails of this. 

At first I thought: Well, obviously the beams must have been moved to the front. The grey line marking where they should be goes right across the front of the rectangular bit of the room. They’d block the way if they were in the “correct” place, right?

Except I realized my spatial reasoning is woefully inadequate when trying to visualize a round room with sloped walls, so I did the only reasonable thing: I taught myself how to use SketchUp (again) to make a very, very crude 3D sketch of the relevant sections of this room.

Turns out: when you put the beam exactly where it’s supposed to go, it does actually work out okay. I know it’s a little too small here compared to what it should be...

...but that’s probably more due to my estimates for the thickness of the beams and especially the height of the room being off.

I did another version where I moved the beam forward so it sits where the counter is marked on the deck plan, and the difference is pretty negligible:

It looks a little closer to what we see on screen, but again, that’s probably more a miscalculation issue than an honest-to-god result.

As a last-ditch effort I had another look through my screenshot collection. My thinking was that if the beam was moved forward slightly from where it was “supposed” to be, that would mean we’d see more of it.

(On the left, the beam lines up with the grey lines. The area where it intersects with the counter (solid red) is smaller than in the right-hand example, where the beam was moved to align with the marking in the counter.)

Likewise, the distance the beams extend under the counter would be different, if not by much.

(The beam on the right is moved slightly towards the middle of the room. You can see that it dips lower than the beam on the left, which is in the “correct” position.)

If this was the case we should be able to see it in the screenshots, right? Except...

This is the view towards the front of the room. It’s difficult to tell with the perspective, but I don’t think there is much of a difference in how far the beam towards the front of the room (far right) and the one at the back of the room (far left) extend below the counter?

Maaayyybe there’s a difference there? But then again, if you compare how far they dip below the tops of the chests of drawers, that seems pretty similar...

And this is the point where I decided this insanity had gone on long enough and I should probably stop before my brain got entirely scrambled (since, sadly, I don’t have an EMH to unscramble it for me).

So, what’s the takeaway here?

1.: Short of somebody from the production team giving confirmation either way, we won’t know what happened here. I might have misread the set plan, the plan might have changed, or the beams might have been moved. It will have to remain a mystery until we get more shots with incontrovertible evidence, or somebody takes a measuring tape to the set and reports back ;9

2.: For the purposes of drawing a layout of sickbay, I’m going to assume the beams are in the correct position, since that makes more sense in-universe. I’ll move the counter markings accordingly. If I have to make a correction to that at some point, at least I have done the legwork and can refer back to this post instead of having to explain the whole issue again.

3.: Yes, I did just spend half the weekend obsessing over 15 centimetres, to the point where I taught myself SketchUp (again) and wrote a way too long blog post (I did warn you ;9 ), only to come to the conclusion that, as we say over here: “Nichts Genaues weiß man nicht.” - I guess we’ll never know. I have absolutely no regrets!

And finally 4.: staring at images of sickbay for hours on end really makes you appreciate just how beautiful that space is. Scroll up again and have a look at the screenshots. The way the circle repeats in the lights and the table and the concentric markings on the floor. The intricate holograms projected by the ceiling lights. The plants and tools all along the counters that give the room so much texture and make it seem like a real, lived-in place. The way the crisp black and white paint on the beams and the gleaming floor contrast with the cared-for but scuffed up plating and worn-off red paint all over the rest of Sirena... I just really love this ship, okay?

Anyway. If you have any thoughts on this, or you’ve noticed something I missed, I’d love to hear about it!

I was about to say “I promise the next post will be shorter”, but who are we kidding? My brain doesn’t do brief. And what is this blog for if not extremely rambly analyses that give us all an excuse to ogle screenshots of La Sirena for a few minutes?

[noxyfied]

This, is Noxy/Noxyfied/Nox. This is the character I identify as online, and I want to tell you my story with this adorable Arctic Fox because it is one heck of a tale from not so long ago

Things did begin rough at the beginning of my persona’s history. I honestly can’t recall how I came up with it, only how I inserted my love for something and went with it.

From the early years of 2017 to 2019 I was all paper and pencil. Ah yes traditional art was my big thing for a couple of years during that era of 2013 to 2020. I had a time where I wrote stories about characters I made, and not much. No fan art, no nothing, I wanted to stick to my own original ideas at first before I took the step to do something that I did not own; it was a weird mindset I know, I couldn’t hold myself to want to be original and develop to be good enough to draw other things.

It took me some time to develop, hell even to this day I still am unsure of my own skills but I enjoyed trying new things. I don’t reject much criticism even if it comes harsh it still lingers in my head when received anyway. I needed someone to identify as online, a persona who I would have an identity through as I was moving forward on this hopeful career I want to make with my art.

Idea #1 draw my own self accurate to how I look 

Scratch that...

Nononono, I am too bad at showing my face, even at that I don’t like myself.

So I had to come up with something else, 2019 was ending with my skills rising up to something neat. I had Fire alpaca and a wacom cheap tablet which I used time to time back then, and with how I moved foward I said “why not, lets draw a glaceon.

Not bad, not bad. I do enjoy anthropomorphic animals, and for a anthro Glaceon it wasn't so bad. Even back then I did not enjoy much of this picture but the idea sparked. I did roleplay around online a lot as a Glaceon. People always had referred to me as a Glaceon when talking, because furry friends tend to be like that and I don’t mind. It had definitely sparked the idea of identifying as one for my persona.

I had a hard time how I would draw this character, a more personalized Glaceon with my own flare of the art style I carry should be nice, should I make it tall? short? anthro? feral? the questions rose up. Even more as time passed, took some time unsure of it, Unluckily I had a Glaceon FURsona, not a persona. (Yes those were two separate things as I carried 7 fursonas as individual characters in their own stories).

But soon one day in class, my artsy self was bored and it just sparked.

This is it! yes! I love it! something about this just clicked for some reason, it was like nothing I had seen before I could not look away at it, this was it.

After class I went home and played some games. The idea was there but man am I tired. Things did go slow, but not for long as of January, the classes I took gave me the ability to better understand this Adobe Photoshop, an amazing tool for editing pictures but also... To draw?!? I have heard of using Photoshop to draw but was amazed to have the ability using such program. During my time 2019 I would doodle around on Photoshop in my school or at home (thanks to the campus giving me a cheaper prize to use it for assignments) Not bad, not bad, the program was for sure something nice to use. Look! I even drew my Fursonas there too, ain’t that nice

2019 was something for sure. It had just begun making 2020 quite the year as I took my wacom tablet, opened Photoshop, and on January there it was.

Oh how cute! I felt so proud of myself, firealpaca was nothing like how clean and pretty Photoshop was, I was amazed at this ability.

“I made this?” that would be what I ask myself everyday. Time to time I would, and still, look at my phone to my drawings and remember what I used to make some pieces, I will not forget how I used thick outlines with the line too from photoshop, added some depth on the eyes. But most importantly, I had a persona, and I introduced it

My friends loved it, I could not believe I am starting to do the shift, my days of traditional art were at a halt. Not at a complete stop since I do use traditional art for a few other things of course, this was just my main focus now.

This little creature was everything to me, cute, easy to make, helped me throughout a few months as I practiced with my digital art.

I also perfected it’s look, but something looked rather familiar about it. Could not put my finger to it, so I went on drawing it.

that was a few exceptions where I shifted the proportions for “it”

“It” “it” what was this thing supposed to be, I myself was unsure how to identify myself with this persona. Male? no, female? no. The issue was there, who am I really inside, who was my persona gonna be.

I still cannot tell you exactly what my persona was for the longest time. I at times felt lost and confused with my identity, it did not help that 2020 did its mumbo jumbo and a pandemic happened, it was a lot of time on my own at home just questioning really who I had been for the longest time. Classes were minimal so my free time was big around April and May.

I was always unsure of who I was exactly, through my early years late 2000′s I had in me that my body was uncomfortable for looking the way it did, 2010′s went silent but there was something in me I did not understand. why did I feel this way, why do I feel as I am not happy with who I am, and who I identify with.

This persona was the wake up call to who I really wanted to be. I saw it in me that I knew being a male was the main issue in me feeling unhappy. Throughout my life I did not enjoy masculinity as much as other kids, yeah I had some boy traits but it was rather minimal, I enjoyed other things more. I enjoyed a lot of things about being female it was something I had never seen before. as hard or confusing things tend to be from me to explain, its a rather hard thing for myself to explain. But that how it felt “confusing” I researched and looked for things and to my conclusion I had come to be, I come to identify as a MtF trans.

I felt relieved in me of it and I already enjoyed my days more after from it. The only issue is “who do I tell..?” I was timid to tell this to anyone, friends or even family. Especially family, those I come to admit they will never be told of what my decision was because of how hard headed they are. It is a tragic story to tell since most families are such closed minded people of rejecting others.

“My friends tho, my friends? I would feel bad if I told them” that was the mindset I had for a while before admitting to them time to time, one by one. This was a chapter in my life that had changed me early 2020′s but I felt a lot of joy in me to be who I wanted to be, I no longer took anyone else's guidance for controlling who I am, I just went with my own flow.

My persona was.... more comically confused, it could be either so I just left it how my mood wanted it to go for when drawing it. So, things went well, in 2019 with the money I got I found myself enjoying a lot of second handed games, with a game coming real soon that had me pumped for I had to get a console I wanted for so long

A PS4 for the the Final fantasy 7 Remake, I was so pumped waiting for the game, I got a used PS4 for it and even bought couple other games for it to get to know the console: Final fantasy 15, destiny, and later on this Persona 5 game a lot of people talked about. Hmm ok, well lets try it out and oh me oh my, a few days later:

The art style captivated me, can you tell I went all out to trying anything with my persona? I cannot believe I was my own guinea pig for these sorts.

Going around some friends and they will tell you that I used this pfp quite a lot back then, as well as updating it with a new oc I had come up with

A tale in due time will be told about this gal.

well, it was set and forth that this was me, my persona, this glaceon was who I was. People loved it, my friends really liked it, and I had a blast having this first pure year of digital art only. Meeting new friends, and admiring their art. Having old friends come back, and even losing a few others on the way. During the time of june, to July I was rapid about drawing my persona in many ways, short, tall, anthro, feral

even metallic.

 But there come some time I did not grew tired of. But a little worried that I had to rely on a franchise for my own identity, of course there is nothing wrong for those doing it. But reflecting on myself, back then when I wanted this art career to happen, I wanted to go all out letting out my imagination  with my own creations. I had to make the decision, it was time to move on...

...To a new art program and new drawing tablet

No, it wasn’t that. I had to branch out from this Glaceon, but keep my identity, my legacy of this persona in check, but with a new coat of paint of course. did not take a long time before choosing that I had to use a real life animal as inspiration for this change. Something at least close to it, ah yes of course! the inspiration of the Glaceon was an arctic fox, well those are some good stepping stones to begin with so what happened one day is that I began sketching, not before saying good bye to this old self that helped me begin. It was weird, this is me but it was old me?

Tested the new Brushes from this amazing program called Clip studio paint, and I gotta say I love the program. Sincerely the best choice I made to leave Photoshop for this.

At last, this is it. the new Me!

Familiar looking isn’t it,baby steps we can say.

I cannot blame the people for calling my new persona a “Glaceon-alike”

I headed to the right direction stepping away from it, but it was hard to let go

new program, new tablet, new me. the later half of 2020 went onto a lot of changes with myself, the chibi small version did not make me happy to make anymore, I was losing the touch and with the few comments I got of looking like a “powerpuff girl look a like” did set me off to do a drastic change I am thankful to do. This new me had some weird phases, don’t we all tho?

where else to brainstorm than back to the traditional old ways. Now, you may see this and ask what was I thinking when making this. the order of when i started and finish goes as: Top right: ok what if it was feral, nah nah scratch. Top left: Can I still make it cute with a round face and features I had from before? ew no! that looks scary Bottom right: lets make it more natural and wow hey! yes yes yes! this looks hundred times better. Bottom left: It is time I go all out and make it humanoid, it was how I found myself enjoying drawing most things but still did some anthropomorphic things. I was just not the best of it.

Back to digital and.... Amazing, I really out did myself this time, lets go for it, lets keep going with this

I even got a cool sword too!

My practice continued from here, the second half was great and fun. New persona got me in a place where I was happy with and through October and December I was having a blast with the more possibilities with it. I went on to practice with even more suggestive things after a life drawing class I took, proportions mattered to me and with this new persona I went out to make more better looking proportions that were attractive and stylish.

This persona was great, and I managed to make so much of it. even Drawing the more suggestive stuff had left me with an answer for this persona. Just make it gender fluid, my selection for this character being male or female made me so tired I did not know why I just made it gender fluid since the beginning. My mood swings for this character, and I can’t resist drawing it either way. Was I finished? of course not, this persona still had some work around to do. The hair became a pain to make to keeping up with  consistently.

2020 ended, with a year of exciting new things coming for this new year. I went through quite a lot in my life and my art career took a shaken with this new digital life style, my persona became the identity I saw myself through, something im happy with drawing to represent Me.

That isn’t to say that I gave up on drawing Me Me.

I drew who I hope to be, and will use this from time to time, nothing fancy but something.

It has been a year already since I began identifying myself with this persona from last year from now. ever since I sketched that doodle in class, it has been a happy trip through memory lane writing it and I am happy how things turned out. 2021 is what I hope to be as good as 2020 was (by that I mean drawing only of course) In 2021 one more change was made that had made me just as happy to continue on with.

I got more hair! as crazy as it is yes. More hair, and a different front style has been to this day what I been using.

I even made a discord emoji for all the warm hugs to have with my fursona!

and my first ever animation I have ever done before!!

I am always experimenting new things, and i’m proud to be an artists to go out there and leave my art out there to be noticed by anyone. The love and appreciation friends and others leave me are the best thing I could ask. I look foward to see what is up ahead, for me, my career, and Noxy.

[laurelnose]

new year update

- I am, in fact, still alive, I guess. almost surprising, tbh! doing a little better—still not great, but better. it’s cool, I don’t expect miracles from myself.

- thank you everyone for all the well-wishes. i can’t respond to everything individually but i do appreciate all of them and all of you 💛

- i’ve been thinking about if/how I want to start re-engaging with fandom. definitely I want to change some things about the way I do fandom in 2021, as debilitating mood disorder aside, I’m pretty dissatisfied with the current state of affairs. just for one, my audience is larger than i ever expected it to get and i need to re-evaluate some stuff.

- @eskelchopchop​ tagged me in that 5-favorite-things-you-created-in-2020 thing, & I thought yeah, it’s probably a good idea to take some time to meditate a bit on the things I managed to create this year. made me realize I did make a fair amount of stuff I forgot about and that was nice to remember! so, thanks for the tag, i appreciate it. cutting for length!

rules: it’s time to love yourselves! choose your 5 (ish) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

so…we’re going to do this two different ways. here’s the self-promotion the challenge was asking for: my top five favorite fanworks I posted this year, no particular order.

On Monsters as Invasive Species: this meta essay was a response to a tumblr ask, but it was so goddamn long and at the time I did not want to post anything to tumblr, so I tidied it up for AO3, which also let me do real footnotes!! anyways it’s about monsters, invasive species, and extinction events, and i’m very pleased with how it came out. my thoughts on the topic were super knotty and I wasn’t even sure what conclusion I would end up coming to when I started trying to formulate my response to this question, so ironing all my drafts out into something coherent took some effort, but it was worth it. (& yeah i’ll still probably post the actual ask response here at some point.)

Medieval clothing studies, ft. Yennefer: just really pleased with the hatching on these! I’m trying to get more adventurous with my use of black in my inking, usually to mixed success, and I love how these ended up turning out. plus, the whole process of doing the studies was a lot of fun. also pretty proud of the matching Lambert set but that doesn’t exist on the internet lmao

The library catalogue at Kaer Morhen: extremely niche & self-indulgent oc content with some of the cuter baby geralts I’ve ever done? yes. i am still unsure if this qualifies as a “joke,” but it’s hilarious to me. plus, the number of people not in witcher fandom who said they reblogged it solely for the accurate depiction of libraries was very flattering.

baby eskeralt tackles: this was one of seventeen art prompts I did over the course of three days, which I feel was a pretty heroic drawing effort!! bit of a toss-up between this one and the eskeralt kiss for which one is my favorite, but this one turned out exactly like I wanted it to and I really love the movement and expression I achieved with it. (it just so happens the kiss is reversed in my notebooks: on paper, eskel’s on the right, and I was halfway through when I decided I wanted their scars visible and opted to flip the art in post rather than redo my entire sketch, so the baby witcher piece has a bit of an edge for actually looking the way it does in real life.)

rotfiend reproduction: this isn’t exactly meta so much as just a goofy headcanon post, but it’s a thing I created and fuck, I just love this headcanon a lot, okay, it’s so bonkers off-the-wall and yet also reasonably canon-based, I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to top “rotfiend sex requires explosions.” legitimately my monster bio peaked early with this one

and for the second way: thinking about everything I created this year, I realized that while the challenge specifically asks for links, many of my favorites never made it onto the internet. so I’m just going to mention those briefly because they were my actual top five!

Sigurður Hjartarson (+ cover art)

the character design bible I did for Gill

City of Animal Electricity

The Obsidian Star

Open Hand or Closed Fist

if you made it all the way down here, thanks for reading. i have no idea which of my mutuals have or haven’t done this at this point so i’m just going to tag @she-who-drank-vodka-with-cats​ and @kerasines/@witcherrarepair and if anyone else would like to do it, feel free to say I tagged you, and may the new year be good to you 💛

[koalas-koalas-everywhere]

Where did the idea that Merlin is bad at healing magic come from?

Ok, that was a clickbaity title, I know where it came from: that scene in the Crystal Cave where he can’t heal Arthur’s wound. Possibly, also his struggle to heal him from the poisoned arrow in The Coming of Arthur Part 1. However, although I understand 1) the desire to nerf him at least a bit and 2) the delicious irony of someone as good as Merlin and who would like to be gentle as much as he does being crap at healing magic but good at combat, I don’t think this is very accurate.

I mean, this belief is the farthest thing from baseless. I mentioned TCC, and I can’t explain why he’d be unable to heal Arthur other than lack of skill (beyond theorizing that the magic of the Cave was impeding him because he was supposed, destined, if you will, to ask for Taliesin’s help and agree to look at the crystal in exchange, which admittedly doesn’t have much support from canon, or Merlin’s general lack of magical  ability that caused him, for example to make a rose instead of a strawberry for Freya, although that was in the previous season). Then there’s TCoA, although that one’s a bit... complicated, for reasons I’l talk about in a minute, and, last but not least, there’s the Hollow Queen, where Merlin tries to heal himself but he can’t. Besides that, there are some instances when he didn’t try to heal people so we can extrapolate that he was unable, like when Mordred is hurt in The Beginning of the End, when Will and Freya are dying in The Moment of Truth and The Lady of the Lake* or when Arthur passes out in The Last Dragonlord. 

The one from TCoA is complicated, because as I said before, he struggles, and by the time the scene cuts off it seems like he failed, but when Arthur wakes up, he only seems to have problems with the wound itself, not the poison, and doesn’t feel the pain until he walks on it. Then, without a hint of the fever he had before, he walks all the way to Camelot, a day or more, until he can’t go on anymore, but Merlin tells Gaius the spell didn’t work, BUT then Gaius says the wound’s infected, not poisoned, which would be explained by the whole traipsing about with a wounded leg and no treatment, so... I’m not sure what to make of it. 

Then in THQ, there were the ameliorating circumstances of being... you know... dying from poison. It’s more a matter of power than healing skills (when he tries, his eyes flicker like cheap old lightbulbs when he tries to do magic). But we’ll count it.

So that makes it 5 times he would have liked to heal someone with magic but couldn’t due to what we can assume is a lack of skill (I’m not counting Mordred because I don’t think he’d dare to use magic in that case, since Morgana seemed to want to be involved and kept up to date in his treatment, proved by how she watched as he did it without magic), two of which are dubious because he seems to be at least partially successful or because there were extenuating circumstances.

Then there’s times where there were people to heal but the circumstances were... peculiar.

One was his father in The Last Dragonlord. He dies much more quickly than Will, not to mention Freya, which suggests an even worse wound than the one the woman who grew up with Druids, notable healers, said was too deep to heal. Merlin says he could save him, but Balinor cuts him off so he could give his last words, presumably because he, a man we also know possesses some healing skills, knew it was pointless. I really have to wonder if there was anything any ordinary sorcerer could have done (I mean, not to victim-blame, but I didn’t see Balinor trying to heal himself), that even Merlin himself pre-The Diamond of the Day could have done, so I’m reluctant to draw conclusions about his healing abilities from this.**

While he heals Gwen in With All My Heart, technically he does it not through any healing magic but by taking her to the Cauldron of Arianrhod and summoning the Triple Goddess, so it doesn’t help measure his skills either.

Additionally, (and here’s where I start to answer one of the most important questions in this post, which has remained unsaid until now, but which has underlined every single line to the moment: “what the fuck are you ranting about you big dumdum if all you’re going to do is agree that Merlin’s bad at healing?!” It’s about the refutation) there’s his healing of Morgana in TCC. This one’s also weird, because he does heal her, but he needed Kilgarrah’s help to do it. It’s possible that he only gave Merlin the spell, like he did with Sigan, but he has a strange sound effect in his voice when he casts it, so it could also be that he had some extra guidance from Kilgarrah to help him along, such as a power boost or an instinctual understanding of how to perform the spell. Like the last one, then, I don’t think this example gives us any reliable information on his healing skills.

But! It does start us off on the next part of this discussion, which is the times Merlin has successfully healed someone.

The earliest example of this is The Mark of Nimueh, where he heals Gwen’s father, Tom. He just sneaks in, puts a poultice under his pillow, casts the spell, sneaks out, and done! Man awake in seconds, cured by morning. Of course, success isn’t as interesting as failure (might be the reason why they continued this particular storyline by having Gwen accused of sorcery instead of just letting her live), but two things stand out about this healing. The first is that Merlin used a poultice for it, which will come up again later, so make a note of that. The second is that this happens before TCC, so it’s unlikely that Merlin just took that failure to heart and tried to improve. 

But, TCC is the next time since then that he makes an attempt at healing magic, which, whew, talk about a time gap! That’s two seasons, and at least 2 1/2 years! Make a note of this, too. The time after that is, at least, in the same season - TCoA, in which we’ve settled that Merlin seems to have partial success with Arthur’s wound. (“Yes, you’ve already said this before!” Just go with it.)

Next, there’s The Wicked Day. We know that he did the spell right because everything went to shit. Once more, he used aids for the spell, a potion and incense form sage.

The very next episode, Aithusa, without a clear idea of what they’ve been given, only that they’ve passed out and have difficulty breathing (he might have figured out what it was from the smell of the poultice that he found in the stew), he manages to save all four knights and Arthur from poisoning, this time only with an enchantment. 

Then he heals Gwen’s leg in The Hunter’s Heart. Once again, only a spell. Funnily enough, it’s the same wound he tried to heal in TCC, only in a different place.

Last but not least is the poison Gwen uses on Arthur in A Lesson in Vengeance. By the time Merlin has an opportunity to treat him, he’s moments away from death - Gaius says his heart’s nearly stopped, and Merlin himself doubts he has the power to heal him. No potions or herbs, although it’s interesting to note that he does motions similar to chest compressions.

So, to keep tally: his success rate when dealing with poisons and drugs is 100%, and it’s the same for times when he got to use aids such as potions and poultices. It also applies to all healing attempts not subject to extenuating circumstances (magical interference such as the Lamia’s spell or the blade being forged in a dragon’s breath, and when Merlin had to heal himself while he was dying) from TWD forward.

We can see him improve from TCC (season 3) to ALiV (season 5) - he actually makes significant improvement from TCC to TCoA, and from there to TWD and Aithusa. It seems like he learned from his experience in TCC and decided to make up for his lack of natural talent at healing magic by studying. And here’s where it gets really funny. Because we’ve established that there was a time, long before TCC, where he healed someone successfully, and that was Tom, in TMoN. If you’ll remember, around that time Merlin was much more likely to fail the first few (hundred) times he tried a spell, like the one to make that dog statue real and the one to enchant a weapon to fight the griffin. So, way back then, Merlin went, made a poultice, cast a spell and succeeded on his first try, when before (and after) that he’d have difficulties with new spells.

It... actually looks like he had a natural talent for healing magic. 

Okay, hang on! you might say. You spent the first half of this fucking novel talking about his healing goofs, don’t come at me with this bullshit now! you might say.

And here’s where you should pull out those notes I asked you to make. Because between TMoN and TCC there’s a world of difference.

To start off, in the first one he had preparation. He’d been able to look for and study an appropriate spell in his book shortly beforehand and, most importantly, he had a poultice. He’s had a perfect success rate when using those. Look at Dragoon - I’ve talked before about how hilarious it is that Merlin struggles to turn off a spell most have trouble achieving, let alone keeping up. In that first ep, Queen of Hearts, Merlin prepares a whole ass ritual to age up,*** but later needs a potion to go back to his own age. On the other hand, every time after that he just casts the spell and he has no trouble undoing it. While it’s conjecture, it’s a pretty solid theory to say that potions and the like, as I’ve been foreshadowing, function as aids when casting spells. They can be necessary, but sometimes they just give the sorcerer a boost. It follows, then, that any spell cast without them will be weaker, such as, say, the one in TCC.

But! He doesn’t use potions for almost any of the other times, either!

Well, that’s kind of tied into my next point: time.

As we’ve established, almost three years go by between TMoN and TCC, and Merlin doesn’t try to heal anyone in that time. He does, however develop his magic in other ways. By The Moment of Truth he can summon a tornado! By Le Morte D’Arthur he can cast the spell he so struggled over in Lancelot! He can summon a shield that can withstand dragon fire! Went against a Sidhe and a Pixie! He- okay, he got better at combat magic. You might see where I’m going with this.

But right then, he needed to heal Arthur! He’d done it before! But... he’d gone rusty. 

Honest to God. Yes, this is conjecture. No, I don’t have any proof other than what fits with canon. No, I don’t think it was intentional on the writers’ part.But in my mind and in my heart this is what happened. He was originally good or rather decent at healing magic, but after not using it and instead doing other kinds of magic for so long, during what were technically**** formative years for him as a sorcerer, that he actually lost the hang of it. To be fair, though, he makes up for it pretty quickly.

I didn’t think this through to the end before I wrote it, when I started I thought I’d just conclude there were more examples of Merlin being good at healing magic and that would be it, but putting it all together I’ve found a probably unintended pattern of Merlin having a natural talent for healing, but being forced to neglect it for the sake of combat magic. In conclusion, I’m sad.

*Scenes which I just watched to make this post and now I’m crying fucking hell what I do for stupid meta.

**I don’t apply the same logic to Freya because the length of time that must have passed between the scene in the tunnels and her death by the lake, not to mention the amount of jarring that she must have gone through in the trip, makes me think that there probably was a window of possibility there that they just didn’t have the resources to take advantage of. And. I mean. The strawberry scene. I’m just more likely to believe Merlin still had a way to go, magic-wise, but it’s also because of this that I’m not convinced that this is about him being bad at healing, specifically, as much as not being that skilled in magic overall.

*** I also rewatched the scene where he does it and ho-ho-ho-holy shit, his excitement at his idea is adorable.

****Because he was born with magic, he learned ways to use it way before going to Camelot, but this was a new stage of his studies that consisted f different things learned and different ways to learn them and different ways to apply them.

[factoffictionwriter]

Tiva Fic Amnesty #12

Okay - this has the potential to be a little controversial, but I’m gonna post some bits and pieces from unused work for Chaval Al Hazman (read actual fic here if you want). This isn’t me giving up on the fic, okay? I swear I’m going to go back to it one day. Once I figure out what I want to do with it. Plus, I’m only posting pieces that won’t be included when I eventually finish it (even if they are, they won’t be in the same form they are here). Mostly alternate scenes to things I already posted. 

“How far is it from Tel Aviv?” He asked, reaching out for his own glass and mirroring her action. 

“Maybe 3 hours on a bad day. Farther than Jerusalem.” 

He nodded as he looked back down at the tiny screen in front of him, propped up precariously on the now almost empty bottle on wine between them, “Okay, so that leaves us with Akko and Be’er Sheva. Oh, right, and Jaffa.” 

“Jaffa is right outside of Tel Aviv, so that will not be hard. Be’er Sheva, on the other hand, is more complicated.” 

“Why? Is it a long drive?” 

She shook her head as she pushed off the marble counter behind her and took the few steps across the kitchen. She leaned forward on the breakfast bar, propping herself on her elbows as she slowly swirled the liquid in her glass, “No. Not too long. There is just so much to see. It could take us weeks to get to everything.” 

“And that’s a bad thing?” He tried to decipher the look in her eyes, to weed through all her typical layers of defense. 

She looked up from her glass, “Generally, no. But you keep forgetting that we are operating on borrowed time here, Tony. Any day now we could get a call telling us that the issue with Gibbs has blown over and we can return to our jobs.” 

His eyebrows shot up, and he gave her the most mischievous look he could manage, “Who says we have to go? You’re rich. We could hide out here indefinitely.” 

She chuckled, “We? I would be paying for your lifestyle?” 

“Between your mom’s family and what I’m sure is a fat inheritance from your father, I think you could manage it. Besides,” he set his glass down and slid a hand out, barely letting his fingertips brush the skin of her forearm where it sat on the counter between them, “I bet I could come up with a few ways to repay my debts. As long as you’re willing to accept alternative forms of payment.” 

She shook her head at him, but couldn’t hold back the smile that spread across her face or the small laugh that accompanied it. 

“As intriguing as I find your offer of alternative payments, I am pretty sure that we both know we won’t be going back to NCIS for the money.” 

“Yeah, you’re right. We’ll go back for the guns.” 

She laughed again, setting down her own wine glass this time and leaning a little farther over the bar, “We will go back for the family. Our family.” 

He sighed, running his fingers up her arm one last time before resting his palm on the back of her elbow, “I guess that’s a pretty good reason to go back. Much better than what I thought you were going to say.” 

She raised her eyebrows at him, “Which was?” 

He smirked to himself as he gently tugged at her arm, prompting her to lean even farther over the bar until she must have been standing on her tip toes, “The dead bodies.” 

---

“Borrowed time,” he said, drawing the words out as if testing the way they felt on his tongue before deciding to add, “I don’t think I like the sound of that.” 

Her hands faltered again, and he swore he heard her swallow before speaking, but her words still came out clear and calm, “It is just an expression, Tony.” 

“Well, it’s a bad one. And not very accurate.”

She didn’t respond. 

“And I’m not so sure how I feel about that being the one expression you get right on the first try.” 

Still silent. 

“Because I don’t see us as ‘operating on borrowed time’. I see us as… setting in motion the things that are going to shape the rest of our lives.” 

No response. 

“Like, take the Be’er Shiva thing. Someday, we will visit Be’er Shiva together, and you’ll show me all your favorite things about the place you were born. Whether that happens on this trip, or maybe over a christmas vacation next year, or even in 10 years, I still have this feeling that it will happen.” 

He felt her breath on the back of his neck again as she slowly slid her arms round his waist, the massage seemingly forgotten, “Christmas in the Desert? That doesn’t sound very festive.” 

“Oh, what do you care? You don’t even celebrate Christmas. The point is, we aren’t borrowing time from anyone. It’s ours. We earned it. And nobody else is going to tell us how to spend it.” 

He finished his little speech by reaching up for her hands where they lay flat on his stomach and tangling their fingers together. 

She was quiet for a moment until he felt her shoulders shaking with laughter behind him. 

He turned his head to the side, trying to get a little glimpse of her behind him, and was relieved to find that the motion did not cause stabbing pain. She really was a miracle worker. 

“What’s so funny?” 

She shook her head a little before leaning forward to press her lips against his cheek where she could now reach it, “I just cannot believe that there are people out there, people we spend hours with each day and have worked alongside for years, who truly believe that Tony DiNozzo is a playboy.” 

He sat up straight and turned to face her, regretting the movement when her fingers slid out of his and she let go of his waist, then feeling relieved when she casually dropped her hands to rest on his thighs, “You’re suggesting I’m not.” 

She shook her head, “Absolutely not. You are the most hopelessly romantic man I have ever met.” 

He let his hands crawl up her sides until they came to rest on her waist, “I would love to hear how you came to that conclusion.” 

She smiled at him, leaning forward a little as if to emphasize her confidence, “You lost your mother young, and your father hasn’t been able to hold down a relationship since, which taught you that relationships can work, but only with the right people. You went on to date a woman considerably older than you who, in my humble opinion, manipulated you into believing you would be together forever. You proposed, she said yes, then she left you at the altar. Now you don’t trust your own instincts, at least not when it comes to relationships. So you date around, chasing skirts and hoping that one of them will turn out to be right for you, but also never giving them the chance to prove themselves. You love movies because of your mother, but also because you love the idea of a happy ending, especially one that falls into the lap of the main character. You’re terrified of getting hurt, but also of being alone. Which is why you talk so much. When you’re talking, you can’t hear the sound of your own discontent with your life.” 

She gave him a level look, as if daring him to argue with her analysis. 

He sighed, “Wow. Sounds like a catch.” 

She smiled again, and one of her hands slid off his thigh and found its way to his face, gently brushing along his hairline and down to his jaw, “Evidently I thought so.” 

“Any other life shattering observations that you’d like to share with me?” 

Her smile morphed into a smirk as she brought her hand around to the back of his neck, “Depends. Are you aware of your tendency toward women who can kick your ass?” 

---

“Now how the hell would you know that?” 

“Because I know you, Tony,” she said as she ducked her head to press her lips to his neck sweetly, “And I pay attention when you talk.” 

“Could have fooled me,” He mumbled against her collarbone.

She chuckled, “Must we revisit my previous analysis? Or continue on with our discussion of your infatuation with dangerous women?” 

He shook his head, “Let’s not. I think we should dig up something deeply personal about you, huh? How about we discuss why it is you are attracted to men so much older than you?” 

She laughed this time, “I am attracted to older men because older men are attractive. There is no deeper meaning.” 

“Oh, really? So you mean to tell me that you’re here, making out with a guy who is more than 10  years older than you, and I’m supposed to believe that has nothing to do with your emotionally distant and borderline abusive father?” 

“Believe me, Tony, my father is the farthest thing from my mind when I am in bed with a man, no matter his age. And you are not the oldest one I have been with.” 

He scrunched up his face, “Nevermind. I would rather not talk about your sexual encounters of the geriatric kind.”

[gunnerpalace]

When ever people analyze bleach and its flaws everyone always seems to convinetly leave out Kubo getting really sick, his injury to his arm, the Voltile relationship he and Shonen had, him runing out of time and missing deadlines because of said injury anf constantly being sick. Shonen telling him he had so much time to finish stuff.

I’m awake right now because I have mild heartburn, and I saw this. And it pissed me off so much that I decided to get up to go to my computer so I could answer it properly.

What a miserable pile of fucking excuses.

He was sick? Who gives a shit. Here’s a list of famous writers who dealt with crippling illnesses. You might recognize names such as Dickens, Updike, Wharton, Proust, Orwell, Milton, Joyce, and Melville. His arm was injured? Boo-fucking-hoo. You want painters? How about Frida Kahlo, a true badass? Here’s a list of famous painters who dealt with physical disabilities. Do Michelangelo, Van Gogh, and Matisse sound familiar? Hey, how about Peter Longstaff, a contemporary artist who is missing both arms and paints with his feet? Or Mariusz Kedzierski, who was born without arms but still paints? You want to go into other arts? How about Beethoven, who was deaf? We can go on!

A truly passionate artist creates regardless of their circumstances, because they want to or, more accurately, have to, in spite of their health.

“Hey, it’s really not cool to suggest that artists should put their work ahead of their health!”

I agree! And that’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying in general that a truly committed artist will do so regardless of what you tell them to do, because they can’t stop themselves. And more often than not, that artist will also takes steps to mitigate the damage to their health in the process.

Let’s talk actual manga and mangaka. There’s Berserk, which has been running since 1989, and is frequently on hiatus because Miura focuses on other things. Maybe you think that’s not a fair comparison because it’s seinen and appears in a monthly publication. Okay, are you familiar with Hunter × Hunter? It’s been running since 1998. It’s published by Shueisha in Weekly Shounen Jump and is constantly on hiatus, sometimes for years, because Togashi deals with illness.

Hmm. Why does Shueisha treat Togashi so differently, I wonder?

Here’s the thing: That Man explicitly chose not to take a break. You’re telling me he couldn’t have? He clearly could have. Togashi proves it. Maybe Shueisha discriminated against him, you say. Okay, so whose fault is that likely to have been, and why? It clearly doesn’t have to do with taking your time.

Bleach went inexorably downward in popularity following the conclusion of the Soul Society arc. Its volume sales plummeted. It was consistently at the bottom of Weekly Shounen Jump’s ratings. Aizen was defeated in chapter 423. The manga ended on chapter 686. That’s 263 chapters, or 38% of the manga’s runtime, to wrap things up with rock-bottom ratings. 263 chapters published across more than 5 years, because chapters 424–432 were released in a volume on April 11, 2011, and that happens many months after their original publication. And you’re trying to tell me that he was on a deadline?

What the fuck did he spend all that time doing? Because it sure wasn’t answering most of the questions he’d posed or explaining his manga. 

And when they finally said “No more,” what did he do with his remaining chapters, pray tell? Draw shit like Mayuri Kurotsuchi fighting a literal fucking giant hand, like Kenpachi getting a bankai that did literally nothing and advanced his fight not one jot, and spend his last 5 chapters very deliberately and very methodically producing the shittiest ending possible that assassinated all of his characters. Bleach would’ve ended with more integrity if Yhwach had literally just killed everyone.

Could there be a little more nuance to his relationship with Shueisha? Sure. Every story has two sides. But the truth is not always somewhere in the middle.

The evidence is pretty clear that Shueisha gave him plenty of time, and he pissed it all away on completely self-indulgent and frivolous shit that essentially nobody wanted.

It seems evident to me, if less substantiated, that he became embittered and burnt out at the lack of embrace of his grand vision by both his editors, publisher, and audience, and decided to cut the nose off the face of his work to spite all parties in the end. 

From where I sit, Noriaki “Tite” Kubo was a primadonna whose bad working relationship with his publisher stemmed from his own arrogance and hubris. I think that is self-evidently clear from what he chose to spend his time focusing on and how it was received. He was not ever interested in exploring his work. He was interested in giving the appearance of depth through the shallowest of means, of designing ever more characters, and in focusing on “cool fights” (none of which were actually particularly good compared to many of those of his peers).

“But shouldn’t an artist show integrity?”

Yes. To their work. That Guy showed integrity to himself. The two are not the same thing. The former is passionate creation. The latter is masturbatory self-indulgence. Individual artists or assemblages of artists will often do stupid shit that is poorly received and try to say that they were being “true to their vision” ex post facto to excuse it, when even a casual investigation will show that their “truth” was a betrayal of the premises, tone, themes, or characters in question, which is precisely why it was stupid and poorly received. Bleach is no different in that regard than say, Mass Effect 3.

I have talked before about how he betrayed his creation in an aesthetic and ethical sense. I stand by that completely. We were presented with what he thought was good, not what was true to the work itself. He put his ego ahead of everything else, and in my opinion that is reflected in his bad working relationship with his publisher, in his refusal to take breaks, in his refusal to plan or plot ahead properly, in his refusal to properly pay-off his story, and in his refusal to provide a proper conclusion. 

He blew his property up, dumped his notes on Narita, and promptly fucked off.

To compare to another mangaka, look at Gintama, where Sorachi was shuffled from Weekly Shounen Jump to Jump Giga, and then finally to his own app when he just couldn’t finish it in time. That is passion and dedication in being true to one’s work.

Fuck Noriaki “Tite” Kubo and fuck his fucking excuses. Less privileged people have done vastly more, vastly better, with vastly less.

And don’t even get me started on that almost certainly bullshit story about the anonymous sick child who told him to stay true to his “original vision.” Fuck that. Fuck that in detail, and fuck it in general. That kind of tunnel-vision bullshit is what leads to train wrecks like the endings to How I Met Your Mother or HBO’s version of Game of Thrones. Art evolves and grows. Courage is not desperately clinging to your original vision in spite of your work having taken a different course than you imagined. Courage is allowing your art to blossom and bloom naturally.

I said I could call him much worse than just Noriaki? I can. He’s a fucking Art Criminal. I hope he legitimately never makes another creative thing again for the rest of his miserable life. I will never forgive him and in my opinion he is the ultimate example of how not to conduct yourself artistically. He is The Donald Trump of Art. He is Anti-Artist One. He is the Art Antichrist. If I wanted to show my real feelings regarding him I would call him The Shitlord instead of Noriaki or That Guy. He deserves the epithet.

Fuck him.

[weaverlings]

dictionary definition

so this is another thing that mostly happened because I wanted art of Cecil and Carlos cuddling but I can’t draw well enough for that so I had to try to write something that captured the feeling

and god knows we need some fluff right now

ao3 link

cw: animal death (Glow Cloud-related)

Perfect was a word that had waxed and waned its way through their relationship. 

Once, Cecil had described Carlos this way first and foremost, had understood him mainly through this: that Carlos was an epitome of a person, beautiful and intelligent and really any other positive adjective you might choose. Any adjective, and Carlos was the superlative of that.  Cecil had reported on this extensively: playing with the words, unable to make them sound wrong in any way.

And Carlos had known that this was true about Cecil, too. Known and feared, because, well, from the perspective of mere facts and logic, there were so many more unknowns than that one, large, looming known. These had included, but were not limited to: his danger meter never dipping below blood orange, the incident at the Pinkberry, and simply how long his funding would last. Of all that he feared in Night Vale, perhaps the most frightening was this: Cecil's feelings were mutual. It was the least scientific thing he had to be scared of, but that was only a contributing factor. 

So Carlos had hypothesized briefly: if he didn't even know how long he'd stay in Night Vale, it would have been deeply foolish to initiate a relationship, even when there was a man with a voice like that (always, always written and described and thought as such - there was no suitable scientific descriptor beyond italics), and who spoke with it so enthusiastically about, well, everything. Cecil loved the world the way a scientist did, Carlos thought, and that was perfect. 

Why couldn't he say it as easily as Cecil did? Carlos felt like he understood the weight of it better. But maybe that wasn't a fair statement. He couldn't assume that it was anything better or worse. Different. It was just different.  Even when they did start dating, when Carlos had learned something about fear and something else about innocence, and when Cecil still insisted on perfection.

Cecil learned otherwise soon enough. He understood that Carlos was not perfect any more than he was, and it was only after the risk had passed that Carlos could explain a key component of his own fear: that Cecil would see Carlos for who he was, imperfect, and that would be it. Over. Done. 

Like: Carlos was private to the point of pain, but then, Cecil had a warped idea of privacy in the first place. 

Or else like: 

"You know, you're just ruining perfectly good coffee," Cecil chided over breakfast, as Carlos stirred in milk and sugar.

"It's science, babe. Milk binds to tannins in the coffee, making it less bitter. And less bitter things taste better. Ahh, science." Carlos nudged their mugs together. "Cheers!" 

Cecil learned, and they persisted. That, on its own, was not enough enough for the risk to pass. What really did it was: Cecil wasn't perfect, either, and Carlos wanted to stay with him, anyway.

Like: Cecil had no boundaries between his personal and professional lives, while Carlos maintained his so carefully that he had accurate pie graph to show how he divided his day.

And sometimes: 

"Oh, my god, how can you see? Give me that!" Carlos held out his hand for Cecil's reading glasses', his own microfiber cloth at the ready.

Cecil shrugged, and pushed his glasses up on his nose. "I can see just fine."

No, they were not perfect, and this would not tear them apart melodramatically or break them up quietly. None of the dates ended awkwardly, or, many of them did. But it was comfortable. It was mutual, one of many things they could share. And Carlos learned another thing about fear, and the shape of perfection in his own mouth. 

Because there was also this: the living room couch, again. Not always, but usually. Cecil, running his fingers through Carlos' hair, catching strands gently, murmured, "Perfect. Oh, my perfect Carlos…"

And Carlos caught Cecil's free hand, kissed his palm and agreed into it, "Mhm. Perfect."

A quiet evening. Just them and the rhythmic thuds of dead animals hitting the roof, following a contentious school board meeting earlier that day. But they'd just had their roof repaired, so it was fine. Better than fine. 

Perfect, Carlos thought, although that time, he mainly meant it for emphasis.

- - -

They waited on the plush vinyl bench for the host to notice them and run away screaming. They leaned in close to each other, speaking in hushed tones about Lance's poor arachnid identification skills - he had tried to offer a scorpion coffee, thinking it was a sales tarantula. They laughed in whispers, as private as anything in Night Vale could be. 

Carlos shifted on the bench. He glanced down and smoothed his skirt and took in the shape of Cecil's legs, crossed over each other.

"Oh, you're just perfect," Carlos said, as if struck suddenly. He was. One hand cupped his fiance's cheek, and the other held Cecil's hair back, to perfectly reveal a deep flush. Cecil's mouth opened, with wonder and desire and all the heat that he could feel in his face, and it was a beautiful expression. 

Carlos said, "You're beautiful. There's no scientific definition of beauty - the one scientific thing about beauty is that it's subjective. But if anyone thought otherwise, they would be wrong. You're beautiful. Perfect."  

"Carlos…" Cecil breathed.

"Don't argue. It's definitely science. There's only one scientific thing about beauty, yes. But it is a scientific fact about you that you are beautiful. In conclusion: so there." He kissed Cecil on the forehead. 

Cecil smiled slowly, giddily. "Uh-huh. Okay. Whatever you say, Doctor."

He looped his arms around Carlos' neck, and pressed a kiss to his lips. "This is perfect, isn't it? This… I never want it to end..."

The host shrieked, and sprinted into the restaurant. They knocked over their own stand in their hurry to flee, and it clattered with a violent ambiance that perfectly suited the Tourniquet dining experience. 

Cecil stood up. "But also, I'm actually pretty hungry. Sounds like our table is ready. Shall we go, my dear?"

"Oh, absolutely. I'm starving." 

Cecil offered an arm, and Carlos allowed his fiance to escort him to their table.

- - -

Cecil rolled over in bed. He had been perfectly comfortable before; his only reason for shifting was to lay an arm over Carlos' chest and press his face into his husband's neck. He nuzzled into Carlos' skin, which smelled faintly of formaldehyde under the lavender of his soap. Cecil nuzzled and kissed and cooed. 

"Perfect Carlos…"

Carlos set his phone down on his nightstand, and lifted Cecil's chin to kiss him. Cecil sighed into it, squeezing a remarkable amount of adoration into a single breath. 

"Scientifically speaking, that is my name…" Carlos tapped Cecil's nose and then, finally, just asked. "Hey. What does that mean to you, anyway?"

"What? You? You mean everything to me, Carlos."

Carlos shook his head, and then cut the gesture off to nod. "No. Oh, well, yes, you, too, but. I meant perfect. What does perfect mean to you? Because it seems like you've always thought that about me, and I, well, a lot of things are mutual. Mutualism is a scientific concept that isn't really relevant here. But that's mutual, too - what you said. 

"And I've thought about what perfection means to me: it means, if reverence can be teasing, or if love can be stillness and not something with wild momentum. Except that's all hypotheticals - not a hypothesis, because I have no idea what the result of those conditions would be, and also you're not perfect, and I'm not either. So I guess I still don't get it?"

He flopped back onto his pillow and shrugged into it, and lifted his hands palm-up to carefully emphasize his confusion.

"Ah," said Cecil. His lips twitched, his eyes flicking back and forth thoughtfully, until he settled on a smile. "Well, maybe I have some science for you."

"Oh?" 

Cecil arranged himself onto his elbow, leaning over Carlos. "Yes. I was talking to Nilanjana before I picked you up the other day. I was like, 'Hey, Nilanjana, how's the experiment going?' And she said it was going perfectly, which I thought was weird, like, nothing is perfect, right? Perfection isn't real. I told her that. I, uh, may have scoffed it."

He paused, straightening Carlos' lab coat over his nightgown, and then not letting go over the fabric. He teased the lapel in his fingertips, undoing his own adjustment as he went on, "Anyway, she explained to me that while one way to understand perfect is 'free of flaws,' that's not the only way. It can just be..." 

Cecil released Carlos' lab coat, and shifted further, lying almost on top of Carlos. Carlos' breath caught, and Cecil asked, "Is this okay?"

Carlos shifted an arm, reaching up to lay a hand on his husband's shoulder. "Oh. Yes. Go on."

Cecil let his body settle over Carlos', careful about the amount of pressure he applied. But he knew what Carlos liked. He balanced himself on an elbow again, bringing himself close to his husband and kissing his cheek. With his other hand, he caressed that oh-so-perfect hair. 

"Right… Perfect can just be something that is at its best, or most complete. And a lot of the time, people take that to mean that it's free of flaws. But it can just mean… You know, complete. You wouldn't add anything. Or take anything away." Another kiss, just because, just at Carlos' temple. "It can just mean that something is the way it's supposed to be, and why can't that include some flaws?"

This time, a string of kisses, tracing from Carlos' temple over the strands of gray in his hair.

"You are everything you are supposed to be. What that is may change - no, it will, and it will still be perfect, because it's you. You are always perfect, because you are always everything you're supposed to be, and I will always, always love you for it. I will never not love you. You will never not be perfect to me." 

Carlos tilted his chin up, an invitation for Cecil to kiss his neck which was promptly taken. Carlos said, breathlessly, "Oh. Okay." 

Cecil laughed, "Okay?"

"That makes a lot of sense. Scientifically, I mean. And I like it. Speaking personally, just, you know, for myself - I like that definition of perfection. And you. I love you!"

"Yeah, well, guess what? I love you, too!" 

That was perfect, and it was human, and it was real. 

[wetalkinboutbooks]

The Bird King by G. Willow Wilson

Summary

The Bird King is a 2019 fantasy novel set in 1491, the novel takes place in the Emirate of Granada during the territory’s final days. The story concerns the flight of Fatima and Hassan, a concubine and mapmaker, respectively, from service to the Emirate’s last sultan. (Taken from Wikipedia)

We follow Fatima and Hassan on their search for the Bird King as they avoid soldiers of the Spanish inquisition, and meet a variety of characters along the way.

Our Ratings: 

 → Geena: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

 → Kae: ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Overall: The Bird King is an amazing book that manages to be complex yet light-hearted. It touches on subjects like faith, love, and friendship. The characters are engaging (and absolute drama queens) and the plot is fast-paced so there’s never a dull moment. The dynamic between the characters leads to the funniest situations that will have you dying. In summary, reasons to read this book if you haven’t already:

A- ONE SUPER FUNNY BOOK PLZ READ IT

B - THE DRAMAAA OF FATIMA AND HASAAN

C - Vikram 

D - Stupid

~ Spoiler-full discussion below ~

The Good: 

→ Hassan and Fatima’s Relationship

Geena: The best thing about the bird king (aside from the horse named Stupid) was Hassan and Fatima’s friendship. IMO it was so wholesome and they were so in love (PLATONICALLY!!!!). When Hassan said seeing Fatima walking around was like seeing his heart outside his body…… a BITCH DIED!!! Also, the fact they would take shots at each other constantly? Loved it. HOW COULD I FORGET… HASSAN CONSTANTLY BEING HORNY AND FATIMA BEING LIKE “CAN U CHILL!”  

Kae: OKAY MOOD LMAOOO. So boom. Geena covered it. We love this book! Hassan and Fatima are the definition of the 💯 emoji. But these bestie-bitches are DRAMATIC af. I’ve never seen two best friends who love each other as much as they do. They’re hugging and crying one moment, then the next they’re jealous that one of them is talking to someone else. DRAMATIC. I love it. Have we talked about Gwenny and Stupid yet?  

Geena: WE HAVEN’T TALKED ABOUT THEM, the perfect accessories to the Hassan-Fatima duo. Gwen is the token white boi, there for Hassan to thirst over and Fatima to learn how to sail a ship. Stupid on the other hand…. God bless that horse all it did was drown and then LIVE!!!! The absolute legend.  BUT Kae HOW WOULD YOU DESCRIBE GWEN AND STUPID? HMMM

Gwen: I only love God

Also Gwen: *sleeps with Fatima on the deck of the ship while Hassan is 3 feet away* 

Kae: Well... Gwennec. Ol’ Gwenny Gwen Gwen. Gwen, the Monk who FUCKS. PAHAAHA. Gwen was a new Monk who was at first, totally against helping our favorite bestie-bitches. But Fatima was all “Don’t test me white boi I will kick ya ass.” And Gwen lowkey thought it was hot so he let them slide. He taught Fatima and Hassan how to sail while Hassan made googly eyes at him and definitely wanted to tap that. But, as previously stated, Fatima and Gwen got it ooonnn.  Hassan found out and as like “Fa, I can’t believe you slept with my husband who doesn’t know we’re married yet!”,  and that was basically that.. Then we have Stupid. The horse who was just as damn stupid as his name. The horse lived to spite the Grim Reaper just to prove it would breathe another day. We also haven’t mentioned our Jinn friend and their literal lifesaver/guardian angel, Vikram.  

Geena: VIKRAM, aka another dude/djinn/dog man that Hassan wanted to fuck but couldn’t :( Vikram was essentially the only one in the group that had a substantial amount of brain cells, and spent most of the time trying to make sure Fatima didn’t accidentally kill herself. The fact that he saw his death and it was in the arms of a “beautiful woman” should sum up his character really well. 

Kae: Geena is sooo right. Vikram was the only one with brain cells because Fatima and Hassan both shared two. Our loveable, dramatic, but also a little dimwitted faves wouldn’t have survived any of their adventure without Vikram. He lead them through a Jinn filled tunnel that Hassan made. Escorted them across the land with the Inquisition right on their asses, and fought off whoever tried to hurt them. Initially, he agreed to save them because of a debt he owed to Fatima’s Sultana. But in the end, Vikram helped them because he wanted to. He was a weirddog/man/Jinn who just wanted Fatima and Hassan to stop being dumbasses for five seconds. But they couldn’t so he was constantly annoyed and probs wanted to eat them to shut them up. BUT WE STAN THAT FURRY LEGEND BECAUSE WITHOUT HIM, OUR ESCAPEES WOULD BE DEAD-EEE. Also he was one suave, smooth talking mofo and I feel like if he walked up to you and said “You’re lovely, but you’re an idiot. It’s okay, because you’re pretty tho.” that compliment sandwich would go right over your head and you’d thank him.  

Geena: ok FIRST OFF I would be like “why do you have a tail” but god Kae you hit all the points. 

The Bad AND The Ugly

→ The Sultan and His Mom Being Pedos 

Geena: Ok so, Fatima is 17 and I’m assuming the Sultan was in his mid-thirties, because he has kids Fatima’s age 👀. So I am sure it was historically accurate, the fact that the old ass man had a 17 year old concubine, but that doesn’t make it any less gross!!!! What’s worse is that Fatima’s mom was originally a slave for the sultan, so when she was born the sultan’s mom raised her and had her instated as a concubine when she was 15!!!!!! Scuse me while I 🤮. 

Kae: Yea, Geena said it all. The Sultan was ewww. Fatima was his favorite and I guess he talked to her like she wasn’t a concubine? She was treated very well. For a concubine. Probably better than any concubine I’ve read about Like, she had rights and could talk shit without punishment. But still, DISGUSTEEENNNG. Our girl was groomed so we do NOT stan the Sultan. 

→ Luz

Kae: we also have our main villain, Luz. She arrived at their palace to play peaceful, but she had ulterior motives that involved her spreading the word of the LORDT and taking Hassan in to be tried for Witchcraft and all that magic shit. Because if we didn’t say it before, Hassan can draw anything on a map and make that place a reality. Luz has this little worm in her eye that basically makes her super weirdly strong and badass. But fuck Luz. When Fatima finds out that Hassan is to be tried for witchcraft, she goes to him so they can both escape. Fatima wants to be free and she doesn’t want to see her bestie die. So what do they do? They dip. And now our friends are on the run. 

Geena: UGH Yes, can I just say the moment that Fatima realized that Hassan would get canned she was like “fuck all these people” and peaced out with Hassan? Friendship goals… But yes LUZ!! I enjoyed reading her as a villain because she genuinely thinks she’s a good person and that her life’s mission is to “Save” people like Fatima from people like Hassan. You really end up liking her in the beginning, and then she turns around and murders a few people and you’re like…. Ah…… i see….. aND THEN it turns out she was being controlled by some brainworm that was also trying to get to the Bird King and you kind of wonder…. How much of what Luz did was her being a violent inquisitor and how much was the worm controlling her… you kno? She redeems herself by dying, so I guess she gets…. Like one (1) right. 

Kae: Damn girl! Well said!!! LITCHERALY that is a perfect summary of Luz’s character. I can’t say anything else because it’s been SAID.  Villains are always interesting when they don’t see themselves as the bad guy. They’re righteous and unforgiving because they believe they are doing the right thing. That’s what scary about them. 

Conclusion 

Kae: Okay, so in conclusion. This is an amazing book and in all honesty, I enjoyed the hell out of it. I was never bored reading it. Hassan, Fatima, and Vikram had quite the adventure and all the dramatics of made it that much more enjoyable. They left the palace in hopes of freedom. Hassan and Fatima got the idea of The Bird King from a story they liked to read, but never knew the ending. So they continued the story on their own, making it up along the way. In hopes of escaping their new fate to Luz and the Inquisition, Hassan drew up a map to the Bird King in hopes to find it. Their journey took them to meet Gwennec who sailed them to said island, where they discovered used to be inhabited long, long ago. Soon, others began to show up on the island. Hassan even got him a MANS. A DOCTOR. Whew. He’s got taste. The island is also forever changing and some of the remaining inhabitants are Jinn. 

Geena: Kae summarized the story really well!!! The journey to the end was an absolute trip, but G. Willow Wilson tied up the story neatly. We get to see Fatima become less dependent on Hassan (thanks to his doctor bf who told her to chill out) and Hassan finally find the happiness he deserves. Gwen, unfortunately, doesn’t make it to the end (press F to pay respect). Luz essentially sacrifices herself by taking the map Hassan drew, getting off the island, and ripping it up. Why does she do this? Because to make a place or passage Hassan drew disappear the map has to be ripped. And leaving the map to the island wasn’t an option because the Spanish inquisition never stops!!

Kae: And if they ripped the map on the island, the island would cease to exist! Upon arrival to the island, everyone had their ships wrecked. Luz got fucked up on the shipwreck and that worm thing got ripped out of her eyes and then it became a monster on the island that was NOT to be trifled with. Since Luz got all jacked up, she was gonna die anyway and no one wanted her to stay--

Geena: Everyone said “u cant sit with us” to luz. OKAY DISCUSSING THIS BOOK MADE ME REMEMBER HOW MUCH IT MADE ME LAUGH, GENUINELY ONE OF THE FUNNIEST BOOKS I’VE READ. 10/10 FOR ME!!

Kae: LMAOOO HONESTLY. XPECIALLY FATIMA NEVER HAVING WALKED SO FAR BEFORE AND BEING A BIG OL BABY. but she DIIIID have messed up shoes that blistered so I’ll give her that BUT YES HASSAN WAS A DRAMA QUEEN “waaah, I have red hair and im pale BUT I'M STILL HOT AND I LIKE TO F U C K” But yeah, Luz got voted off the island and voted herself off the island, ripped up the map, and then they were safe and lived happily ever after. Vikram even made his final appearance to say his goodbyes to Fatima, even though he hates goodbyes. I give this book a 10/10. It was funny, the characters were likeable and relatable, and it was just a good adventure read.

[yodawgiherd]

Resolution

>>>Read on AO3<<<

Rating: M

Hey guys, back here with the (slow as fuck) update, but hey, it's here! Also filling the prompt on some JxH action, if you know what I mean. So yea. Enjoy!

“We can find him.“

She said.

“I’ll help you.“

She said.

How hard can it be to find a single guy, in 2k19, the age of the internet, huh? Welp, as it turned out, pretty fucking hard indeed. There are about two and a half boatloads of Marcos in the states and finding the right one among them was basically like finding the proverbial needle in a haystack. Hah. There is a certain thing called protection of personal data and online privacy, and no matter how nicely they asked, the internet just refused to breach laws for them. The bitch. It surely didn’t help that neither Hitch nor Jean was any kind of hacker-men,  so skirting alongside IPs and whatnot to find their goal was out of the question, unfortunately. All these things combined, they were in quite a bind, and Hitch for all her initial bravado was slowly but surely losing steam.

“You know what?”, leaning back, she rubbed her tired eyes, groaning as every muscle in her body protested against the sudden movement, “Fuck this.”

Jean, who wasn’t faring much better, looked up from the laptop with a weak smile.

“We giving up?”

“Nah. Just a change of pace. We’ve been going at it from the wrong angle.”

“Oh? You got a different one then?”

“Sure do.”, leaning back forward, Hitch fixed him with an intense stare, one that used to be much more intense when she wasn’t this dog-tired, “We have to start at the source, as our online methods have apparently failed us.”

“What’s the source then.”

“That’s obvious, isn’t it?”, she pointed at him, “You.”

Jean stared at her for a minute, then scratched the back of his head. Awkwardly.

“Yea… I’m lost.”

“Look, we can’t find shit in these files, so, all have left is tracing back the physical source. You.”

“….. okay?”

Jean might have been completely dumbfounded by what Hitch was saying, and not really following, at all that was, but hey, as long as she seemed to have an idea what she was doing, he was more than okay to just sit back and let her take the lead.

“What are we doing then?”

“You said that you don’t remember where he ended up, right?”

“Correct.”

“But if you were a good friend of him as a teenager, then I’d say that your mother was in the least acquainted with his mom. Parents tend to do that.”, Hitch snapped her fingers, smug, as if she had just cracked the case, “You have to call your mom.”

Oof.

“Hey, mom… Yeah it’s me… I’m okay, okay… Listen, I just need to ask you something.”, Jean shot a look at Hitch, who gave him a supportive thumbs-up, “You remember Marco? The kid I used to hang out with? Yea, that one. Yes…. Okay, and do you recall what happened to the family, after his brother… you know… Oh?”, Jean blinked a few times, “Really? Okay, thanks. Yea, love you too, talk soon!”

With that, he hung up, finally turning to Hitch who was quite literally sitting at the edge of her seat.

“So? What did she say?”

“They moved.”

“Where?”

“Not that far away actually,” turning back towards the laptop, Jean clicked his tongue, “a few hours drive, seems like.”

Unlike Jean, who seemed to be brooding more and more with every passing second, Hitch couldn’t help but feel excited as their goal finally seemed to draw near. Well, near-er, at least.

“Time for a road trip then.”, she exclaimed, grinning, already planning how to clear her schedule for about two days, that should give them enough time.

“Road trip..”, Jean repeated mindlessly after her, a part of him dreading the now apparently unavoidable meeting.

The drive was a bit more than a few hours, and when they reached their destination the day has steadily progressed into an evening already. Finding a city was nice and all, but still, if it was a big one, their search was just about as dead as it was before. Okay, maybe a bit rejuvenated, but far from being happily finished. Yet, as fate willed it, they finally hit a tiny vein of gold in their series of unfortunate events, and the town where Marco was living in now, if the information was accurate, was a small one, making the good old strategy of going door to door, like a pair of carolers, a viable one. A bit of searching later, with Hitch growing progressively more excited and Jean more stiff by the second, they found it. A house, plain-looking one, with the Bott family name innocently sitting on the mailbox, making Jean feel like he was young again, going to ask Marco’s mother if her son can go and play outside. Hitch all but dragged him to the door, knocking while almost bouncing on the spot with excitement.

“Maybe they aren’t home..”, he suggested weakly, when no one opened for a few seconds, but Hitch wouldn’t be so easily rebutted, and shaking her head, she knocked again, louder.

The door opened.

Marco’s mother, miss Bott, has grown old over the years, as human beings tend to do. Her welcoming smile turned into a surprised expression when she saw Jean standing there awkwardly, the years apparently not proving enough of a distraction to make her not recognize him.

“Jean?”, she asked, voice shaky, “Is that you?”

He wanted to answer, he really did, but somehow his throat was insanely dry all of a sudden, and he couldn’t get a word out. Luckily, Hitch was there, ready for a rescue mission.

“Hi!”, she got the attention of the elderly woman, “I’m so sorry that we are intruding, but we’ve been wondering, could we talk to Marco? We’ve been told that he lives here.”

“Marco? Marco…”, she took a shuddering breath, the years weighing on her shoulders hard, just from that single word. She looked up, over Hitch’s shoulder, on the taller person behind her, eyes shimmering. “Jean, I thought you knew…”

He could get words out if he tried hard enough.

“Knew what?”, he croaked.

“Marco… Marco is gone… Dead. A car accident, years ago…”

And they say that God has no sense of humor.

Miss Bott must have sensed the dramatic shift In his mood, because she took a step back inside the house, giving space.

“Why don’t you come in, and we can…”

“No.”

Jean surprised himself with how cold his voice sounded, but now that he said it, he was adamant about the decision.

“I’m sorry that we barged in like this, but we really have to go now.”, robotic, machine-like words sprouting from between his lips, like a prepared speech, but the thought of getting away, right now, was the only thing that he could focus himself on. No more memories. No more painful surprises.

With an awkward half-bow, his body even stiffer than it was before, Jean made his way back to the car, only half-mindedly hearing the quick-worded apology Hitch was saying to the old lady. Sitting into the driver’s seat, heavily, he reached out to start the car, only to be stopped by the gentle and surprisingly firm grip of Hitch’s hand.

“You’re in no condition to drive.”, she whispered, “Let me.”

Not seeing her point, but in no mood to argue, he obeyed, changing seats and handing the keys over. Then he was left to stare out of the window, into the falling darkness, wondering what the hell was this whole grand tour for. Nothing, that was the logical conclusion. Just a waste of time.

He didn’t even notice that they stopped at some motel, or when the hell Hitch even got the room for them, but now he was sitting on a bed, staring at a wall, with rain thundering outside the windows. When did that happen?

“Looks like a small storm.”, Hitch said, entering, shaking the raindrops from her hair, “I thought it would be better to just spend the night here, and go back in the morning. What do you think?”

“Whatever.”, Jean muttered, honestly not giving a fuck right now.

“So… Uh..”, taking off her wet coat, she sat down on the other bed, facing the brooding man.

“Want to talk about what happened?”

“No.”

“Jean you should…”

“No.”

“It’s really better to…”

“No.”

“Just listen to me!”, a bit pissed off with how he was cutting her off, Hitch raised her voice, but all that she got from Jean in response was an arched eyebrow, ���I’m a professional, I’ve been dealing with things like these on daily basis! Just let me…”

“No.”

Other people would just probably say fuck it, and leave him to sulk, wouldn’t probe anymore, as Jean didn’t want any help. Hitch was not like other people.

The slap was hard, stinging, setting his cheek aflame. Jean’s eyes immediately lit up, his body ready for the fight or flight response, and he was not in the mood for flight. Yet as quickly as he tensed up, he relaxed, when he realized who was the one that hit him.

“Now are you going to listen?”, she asked, nonchalantly, ignoring the way he stared at her.

Jean worked his jaw, snorted, and shook his head.

“No.”

She slapped him again, even harder, making Jean wonder where the strength was coming from.

“Now?”, again, such a calm voice, a sharp counter to the heated actions. But he wouldn’t budge.

“No.”

When Hitch tried slapping him for the third time, he caught her hand, restraining her effortlessly.

“No more…”, he began, but Hitch was resourceful, enough to hit him with her other hand, forcing him to restrain it too.

“No more unnecessary violence.”, he said, cheeks burning.

“Unnecessary? I disagree, it is necessary, as it is the only thing you seem to react to at all.”

He shook his head.

“I don’t need your council or your help. I’m fine.”

“I never said anything about helping you. Maybe it’s me that needs to talk.”, she countered, “But if you’re putting yourself so readily in the victim position, maybe you do need my help, huh?”

“No.”, again retreating to that word, as it was the only thing that seemed solid right now, Jean did his best to push back against her offers, to handle it on his own, but Hitch wouldn’t back down.

“I don’t want to talk.”, he whispered.

“Then don’t.”, she offered, and pushed forward, using the last possible assault, now that he was holding her hands.

She kissed him.

Jean was surprised by her attack, taken aback enough to allow himself to be pushed on his back, the hold he had on her hands dissolving and suddenly Hitch was the one holding his considerably larger arms hostage, pressing them into the cheap motel mattress above his head.

“Is this a part of your normal therapy?”, he managed to breathe in-between the kisses.

“Nah,”, she grinned against his lips, “You’re getting special treatment.”

The room was getting hotter, so Hitch sat back to remove her shirt, a feat which Jean gladly assisted her with. She could clearly feel that for all his apathy and cold attitude, he was certainly getting excited now, the unmistakable pressure against her thighs obvious.

“I still want to talk.”, she hissed, making Jean stop in his efforts to weasel out of his own shirt.

“Now?”, he asked, quite uncertain of what to do in his situation.

He looked so funny, with his handsome face all twisted in surprise, frozen with his shirt open and half-out of it, so much that Hitch couldn’t hold it back and began to laugh, shaking her head.

“No, not now. After.”, but to show that she’s serious, she poked him in the middle of his chiseled chest, “But I won’t forget about it.”

“Oh?”, expression darkening, Jean reached out to pull her closer, flipping their position so she was under him now, squirming beneath his broad-shouldered frame.

“We’ll see about that.”, the words were full of promise, and Jean quickly followed them up with a string of kisses down Hitch’s neck, the heat in her spiking above safe figures.

“Maybe I’ll just…”, his hands were now busy downstairs, unbuckling Hitch’s belt and helping her slide out of her jeans, with her avid assistance, and with their combined efforts she was soon bare to him, allowing Jean to slide a finger into her heat, “…fill your head with different thoughts.”

Desperate to get the situation back into her control, as much as she could, Hitch grabbed a fistful of Jean’s hair, yanking him back up, to face her, and when he did she felt a shudder running down her spine. His eyes were empty, save for a burning desire, dark orbs with the fire smoldering on the inside.

“I need you.”, he said, and there was not any question about what she should answer him.

“You have me.”

Spreading her legs in an invitation, Hitch tilted her hips up, allowing her lover to slide himself in, the sensation making her gasp. Jean was usually gentler, but the events of today seemed to burn it all away, and he didn’t hold back when his hips began moving, the dance they both knew so well. Whatever her dedication was before, it was being chipped away at, with every thrust, and all Hitch could do was hold onto Jean’s back for dear life, gasping for air. She couldn’t even see his face, as Jean had it hidden in the cook of her neck, his hot breath fanning over her sweaty skin. Yet it ended as quickly as it began, with him pulling out, much to Hitch’s disappointment.

“Need you to turn around.”, he grunted, his tone allowing no discussion right now, but then again, it wasn’t as if Hitch was looking for one. With his rough help, she turned, getting on her hands and knees. Thankfully, Jean didn’t let her hang for long, covering her body again and using the different position to push in even deeper than before, filling her completely. And again, same as before, he didn’t start up slow, but set a powerful pace, driven by some primal need that Hitch didn’t really understand, but was more than willing to help him to come to terms with it. The small room was full of her moans, and the sounds of skin meeting skin, but Jean remained quiet, muting whatever pleasure he was feeling himself. Fingers, intertwining with her hair, this time it was Jean who yanked her head back, exposing Hitch’s neck to his teeth, vulnerability he immediately took advantage of, marking her skin with fervor. Her pleasure peaking, Hitch reached back behind her, grasping blindly, until she found one of Jean’s hands, guiding it between her trembling thighs. He knew what she wanted him to do. Spreading her open and dipping two fingertips in, Jean began to attend to her clit, rubbing her until she was squirming underneath him, even harder than before, moaning loudly, not caring about the poor neighbors behind the paper-thin walls of the motel in the slightest. Seconds later, her orgasm wrecked Hitch’s body, much to Jean’s pleasure, enough to push him over his own edge. Soon, the room went quiet, with only two sets of breaths slowly calming back to normal.

“Ready to talk now?”, she wanted to know, when the rush of sex was done with, making her lover chuckle.

“You didn’t forget? Damn.”

“I never forget.”

“I’m not sure what you want me to talk about..”, Jean grunted, reaching over to rub a soothing circle over her hipbone, defined beneath the skin, marked with red where he gripped her during their earlier activities. “He’s gone, so any closure I could have gotten is gone with him.”

“It doesn’t have to be that way. I was thinking…”, intertwining her fingers with his, Hitch looked up, “what if we go to Marco’s grave? You could talk to him, say that you’re sorry, see if you don’t feel better afterward.”

Bringing their connected hands to his lips, Jean pressed a kiss to her knuckles.

“As we are staying the night anyway, I’d say it’s worth a shot.”

Wearing a huge satisfied grin, Hitch leaned over to kiss him properly, happy that Jean was properly out of his shell, and that while the initial plan didn’t really work out, there was still a chance to salvage the situation. And don’t even dare to say that she’s not the damn best therapist that there is, albeit her methods can be…. strange, at times.