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blossomwritesthings · 1 year

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𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐞𝐞𝐥 𝐦𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝? 𝐢𝐭 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞. | 𝐝𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬

pairing: minho x fem!reader (afab)

genre: veterinarian!minho (this includes a few of the skz members working in his clinic). client!reader. hurt/comfort. angst. fluff. smut - MDNI, 18+ only. reader pov. strangers to lovers au. slowburn romance. lots of pining.

content & warnings: explicit & strong language. very thematic elements. minho is reader's vet. reader's childhood cat suddenly gets diagnosed with cancer, and she has to make a big decision about what to do. this fanfic includes heavy topics like: pet euthanasia, extreme loss/grief, depression, the problems with pet healthcare, and more. there will be some humor/fluff placed throughout, and also smut somewhere along the way. :))

word count: 7.1k

summary: dr. lee minho is known throughout your area as the city's hottest veterinarian, and he's also the very man that's been taking good care of your two cats for the past three years. but one day, you're thrown down a dark path of heartache when the cat that you've grown up with - nyx - is diagnosed with an acute form of bone cancer. burdened with the hardest decision of your entire life, you come at a crossroads of what to do. and throughout it all, minho is the single most person who continually stays by your side.

a/n: i decided to split this fic up into like, 3-4 separate chapters, since i felt like having 20.k+ words for a single 'long oneshot' was kindaa excessive lmao 😂 anyways, i'm excited for the future of this little series and what it's gonna look like exploring the relationship between minho and y/n~ 😉 also, for anyone that noticed, YES- i changed my entire tumblr theme after like, 4 months of having it be rainbow haha, so you might not recognize me on your dash with my new look. but yeah, this is the 'new me' for the next few months... i was feeling super inspired to do a muted levanter theme, since it's one of my fav albums/songs from skz haha so here we are!! ☺️

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ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʀᴇᴘᴏsᴛ ᴛᴏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ sɪᴛᴇs (ᴛʜɪs ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇs ᴛʀᴀɴsʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴs). ©ʙʟᴏssᴏᴍᴡʀɪᴛᴇsᴛʜɪɴɢs ⤐ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

The clinic was incredibly busy as you stepped through the front doors. Looking around the medium-sized waiting room, you noticed how almost every single seat was taken up by a patient. Because apparently, the hot place to be on a Thursday morning was Starry Skies Veterinary Clinic.

You clutched on a little tighter to the carrier at your side, which held your cat Nyx just inside the bassinet. She was an American Shorthair, with a coat as black as midnight and big, ocean-blue eyes. Your parents had gifted you Nyx as a surprise for your sixth birthday, since you had been begging them for a cat all year long. And instantly, the two of you were inseparable. Nyx had been with you for almost every stage of your life - including grade/middle school, high school, and all of university. She was so incredibly affectionate towards everyone, but especially you. She loved curling up alongside you after you’d spent a long, hard day at work and would just cuddle into your skin for hours.

Nyx was your stability in everything - she was one of your only friends, even when you were surrounded by other adults your same age at work. And at the ripe age of twenty-four, you couldn’t imagine what your life would be like if she ever left your side.

But, you weren’t naive, or stupid.

And you knew that at some point, Nyx would have to move on from your world and onto a better, and brighter future.

Which is why you decided to adopt a female Bengal cat after you graduated from university. Taffy had a brilliant orange-and-brown coat with light green eyes. And because she was so much younger than Nyx, she had a lot more energy. But even still, the two cats got along quite well, despite their huge age gap. Taffy was the troublemaker out of the two and liked to get into mischief with all kinds of things.

You took great pride in both of them and the relationship that you had with your two kitties, which is why you regularly took them to the local veterinarian clinic for routine checkups. Usually, you visited every six months, just to make sure that Taffy and Nyx were in perfect health.

And it’s not like you were complaining about the visits to Starry Skies Veterinary Clinic. It was a beautiful and spacious place, with a friendly bunch of staff and an even better doctor.

Doctor Lee Minho had been the continual talk of the town since he had moved into the area three years before, and soon after he set up his practice - which was just a short walk from your quaint apartment - you started going to him for your cat’s regular check-ups. Dr. Lee was incredibly professional with all of his clients, and he had a true knack for animals… but especially, cats. That’s what he prided himself on - knowing the ins and outs of the feisty little beings... since he had three of his own. Some even said that he was a cat himself since he had similar mannerisms to the felines.

It also helped that he was insanely handsome.

Like, drop-dead gorgeous.

You weren’t a fool - you noticed how, every time you visited the clinic, most of the clients were women. And almost every time that you sat in the waiting room, you’d overhear women talking amongst themselves… about how they had dressed up for the occasion, and how Dr. Lee was way too cute for his good.

For the most part, all of the comments passed over your head.

After all, he was just a veterinarian. He wasn’t anything special…

He just took amazing care of the animals that visited his clinic.

And he seemed to adore your two cats.

And-

Perhaps he was kind of, sort of, attractive.

If a woman liked the silent, brooding, brown-haired types of guys- then yeah, he was fucking really hot.

But, you always tried to push those thoughts out of your mind each time they started to bubble up to the forefront of your mind. You didn’t want to ruin the professional doctor-client relationship that the two of you had been cultivating for over three years. He was an amazing veterinarian with a lot of skill and expertise, and you had a feeling that you taking advantage of your closeness with him, by forcing yourself onto him, would just turn him away.

After all, he was always professional and polite with you. Even if he seemed to give you a lot of smiles and laughs each time you had an appointment at the clinic. And even if he seemed overly affectionate with Nyx and Taffy. He was just doing his job, as that’s what was to be expected from a doctor like him.

And besides, a guy like him would never go for you. For starters, you had just recently found out that he was five years older than you, landing him at the mature age of twenty-nine. And older guys of that many years never went for you - never stooped that low. Plus, he was a successful doctor and a businessman with his clinic. Whereas you were a struggling woman who was fighting to make ends meet at her low-ranking corporate job. You sat in a small cubicle all day, typing away at a bright computer screen, and Dr. Lee sat in front of patients and animals, actually making a difference in others’ lives.

There was also the fact that you were borderline poor- since your job barely paid anything compared to the way that the economy was so expensive. You struggled to pay your bills monthly and lived from paycheck to paycheck. Meanwhile, Dr. Lee rolled up to the clinic in his dark-blue sports car and was always donned in all different kinds of designer dress shirts and slacks.

So, yeah, he’d never fall for you. Not in a million years.

“Y/N! Good to see you again!” You heard a bright voice call out to you, bringing you out of your daydreams of expensive cars and fancy clothes.

Your eyes flitted up to the person sitting behind the front check-in desk of the clinic. Chan, one of the two receptionists of the place, was looking up at you with a soft smile adorning his face.

“Oh- hi, Chan… I’m here for Nyx’s check-up.” You mimicked his smile, motioning with a tilt of your head to the carrier where Nyx was situated in.

You were on a first-name basis with the entire staff line of the clinic, as you had been visiting it for so many years. Everyone at the clinic was extremely nice, and all of the staff were Dr. Lee’s friends. Soon after you first visited the clinic, he told you about the story of how he had recruited some of his best friends to open the shop with him, and how the rest was history. Even still, you called everyone by their first name except for Dr. Lee - since you decided to keep it professional with him and always address him by his official title well into the beginning of your appointments at the clinic.

“Sure thing,” Chan began, tearing his gaze away from you and typing away at his computer. “I see here that Jisung jotted down your concerns for this visit’s file. Has anything changed since you called in a month ago?”

You moved your focus onto the carrier at your side, where you saw Nyx resting peacefully just inside it. She had long since gotten used to the clinic and was normally very calm whenever you visited the place. “Yeah, she’s been sleepier than usual, and like- she doesn’t want to eat the food that I’ve been giving her, even though I’ve changed the brand two times already.”

Chan’s eyes darted up to you, studying your face silently before they flitted over to the carrier that you had placed atop the counter at your side. “Okay, I’ll add all of that to the notes so that the doctor can take a look,” you noticed how his lips were pressed together in a grim line- like he didn’t like what you had just told him. “You can take a seat, and Yongbok will call you back when they’re ready for you guys.”

“Thanks, Chan,” you said, offering him a tiny, weak smile before you headed off to find one of the only available seats left in the waiting room. As soon as you got situated, you gingerly took Nyx out of her crate. She was warm and downy in your hands and purred quietly at the feel of you pressing her furry body against your chest. “It’s gonna be okay, girl, you’ll be alright…” You whispered to her, mouth nuzzling into her silky coat as you placed a gentle kiss against her head.

After you placed Nyx back in her crate, you spent the waiting time studying the people around you. Once again, it was mainly women’s faces that your eyes met as you scanned over the entire room. And there were all different types of pets everywhere, from dogs to cats to birds.

“Oh, and apparently, Jungmi’s friend saw him out on the streets late at night last week… like, all alone and stuff.” You heard the woman say beside you. She was sitting close to another woman, and their heads were bent at an angle as they gossiped together. “Some girl came out of this one cafe and was hanging all over him, but it didn't seem like he knew her that well.”

The other woman snorted lowly, “Well that bitch doesn’t matter, because I’m going to be sure to seduce him this time around. I mean, c’mon- who can resist this shirt?” At her insinuation, you realized that they were talking about Dr. Lee.

Even still, you felt the urge to peek over to your side and look at her attire, and when you did, you swallowed down the dryness in your throat. Because holy fuck- she looked like she was about to go to the club. Her shirt had a scoop neckline and was so low, more than half of her tits were hanging out of the loose fabric. It was tight and stretched over her bosom in an alluring kind of way, leaving little to the imagination.

Meanwhile, you were dressed in one of your old, baggy hoodies and a pair of loose-fitting denim jeans. Even though it was the beginning of spring, it was still quite chilly out early in the morning. And besides, you weren’t planning on going anywhere else after you visited the clinic, since you had taken the rest of the day off from work, so there was no use in dressing up. Not like you had any nice, sexy clothes like that to begin with, though.

In all actuality, you really couldn’t afford to take a day off of work. But, you felt like it was needed after the long week that you had had. After the long year you had had.

Suddenly feeling self-conscious while you sat next to Aphrodite herself, your fingers scrambled to yank down the arms of your hoodie as best as you could, trying to let the fabric swallow you up in your seat.

Just then, your name was called over the hustle and bustle of the waiting room, and you peered up to see a smiling Yongbok standing in the doorway that lead to the rest of the clinic - where the examining rooms were.

In a hurry, you scrambled to pick up your tote bag and hoisted Nyx in her carrier with one arm, following right behind the young vet tech as he lead you through the back rooms of the clinic. The hallway was buzzing with movement, as the other Tech’s, Seungmin and Hyunjin, helped vet assistant Changbin calm down a barking German Shepherd so that they could usher him onto a weighing station that was positioned in a corner of the hallway. Dr. Lee was nowhere to be found… yet.

“I haven’t seen you in a while,” Yongbok started, as he motioned to an examining room just off to the right side for you to walk in. You took a seat in the chair that was positioned next to the desk - where the doctor always sat. “Since Hyunjin is almost always the one who first greets you.” The younger man with light blonde hair and big, expressive eyes sighed in an exaggerated kind of way, which forced a quiet giggle out of you.

“He’s a good tech though… Taffy especially likes him, I think.” You started, your mind already trailing off to what your younger cat might be doing while being left home alone in your apartment. No doubt tearing into the bag of chips that you had accidentally left atop the kitchen counter.

“Mhm- how is she, by the way? I feel like you haven’t brought her in in a while,” Yongbok said, as he slipped on a pair of blue latex gloves. You dragged your eyes away from his form and instead concentrated on unzipping the carrier in your arms, slowly drawing out a lethargic Nyx.

“Taffy is good, just being her usual rambunctious self,” you laughed softly, shaking your head as the affection for your other cat took over your thoughts. “She’s definitely very different from my Nyx here, that’s for sure…”

Yongok wheeled his chair over to you then, gently taking your old cat from your hands and hoisting her up onto the examination table that was nearby. “I saw in the files that she’s been having problems with eating?” He started, voice growing serious as he began his study of your cat.

You nodded slowly, swallowing over the nervous lump that had begun to form in your throat as soon as he placed Nyx on the paper-lined table. You felt your heart beating wildly against your ribcage, and you watched in silence as Yongbok turned Nyx around to thoroughly examine her. “Yeah, and she hasn’t been wanting to play with Taffy either, even though she used to love to.”

“How long has this been going on?”

“About… four months now?”

Yongbok turned to you then, leveling you with a deep frown, “And you’re only bringing her in now?” His tone wasn’t accusatory, but was more on the perplexed side of things, as all of the staff at Starry Skies Veterinary Clinic knew how much you loved your cats and how you adored taking care of them.

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, hating the way that he seemed to question why you hadn’t taken care of Nyx’s symptoms earlier. “I-I didn’t have the money for this appointment until just recently, so that’s why I'm only bringing her in now.”

Your gaze snagged on Yongbok’s face, and the way that it instantly melted at your confession... brows furrowing and mouth pressing into a velvety line. The entire clinic must’ve known about your financial situation by now - about how you could barely afford food for yourself, let alone the bills from the clinic - since more oftentimes than not, you’d ask for a grace period from paying for the visits.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I wasn’t trying to insinuate that you’re in the wrong here,” he began, but his slight frown only seemed to deepen as he spoke the words, “It’s just that- these symptoms shouldn’t be ignored for that long.”

At that, your heart started beating frantically inside your chest. Your focus landed on Nyx, who was now resting atop the table, with her eyes closed peacefully. “W-What? What do you mean by that? Is something wrong-”

Yongbok reached over then, giving your shoulder a delicate pat. “I can’t confirm anything myself, but I’m going to take Nyx back to the X-Ray rooms to examine her better. Then, I’ll give the data to Dr. Lee and he can examine the diagnosis.” He gingerly scooped up Nyx into his arms, pressing her against his chest.

“O-Okay, but-” You began, but were soon cut off by the way that Yongbok gave you a slight, reassuring smile.

“Don’t worry about it, Y/N. I’m sure Nyx is just fine.” Is the last thing he said, before he was quickly filing out of the room with your cat in his hold, leaving you all alone.

And as soon as he shut the door closed, you were a nervous wreck. Your knees bounced up and down, hands turning clammy and breath falling out in shaky gasps as your mind raced a mile a minute with countless thoughts.

Would Nyx be okay?

Was she sick?

What was so wrong with her?

The wait time to see the doctor usually wasn’t that long, but this time - this time, it felt different.

It felt like each minute stretched out before you in an endless cycle, sending you down a deep and deeper spiral of anguish as you tried to wrack your brain around the entire situation.

When finally, there was a gentle knock on the door.

You had been holding your head in either of your hands, but upon hearing footsteps against the linoleum floors, you peered up to see Dr. Lee closing the door behind him. He was dressed in his usual garb - dress slacks, a simple white button-down, and his white doctor's coat.

Dr. Lee was silent, as he wheeled his chair over to you. And only then did you notice that Nyx was missing. That he wasn’t carrying her in his arms- like he usually did when he brought her back from the closed examination room.

And you knew the moment that he sat down, that something was wrong.

Because usually, when his eyes caught yours as he walked through the examining room’s door, his entire face would light up with one of those brilliant smiles that women gushed over. Usually, he’d be the first one to crack a stupid joke - whether it was something lame about the weather outside, or about the crazy animal that he just had an encounter with before seeing you.

But this time?

No, this time it was very different.

His proud shoulders were slumped low, cheekbones dark with shadows, and plump, red lips pressed together in a firm line.

He clenched and unclenched his jaw once,

twice,

three times.

Then, and only then, did his eyes meet yours.

And they said all you needed to know.

Just by the way that his dark, chestnut-brown pupils danced with a myriad of emotions; apprehension, fear, compassion, but most of all… sadness.

“What is it?”

The words flowed from your lips before you even knew what you were asking, and almost immediately, you were sitting up a little straighter in your chair.

Spine going rigid, fists growing tight at your sides.

Something swam, cool and deep, inside of you.

Chilling you to the bone, with tense unease.

In the depths of your mind, you felt the pinprick of ominous heartache prodding at the fleshy part of your soul.

The part that was weak and emotional and so very tender all of the time.

“I’m so sorry.”

Was the first thing Dr. Lee said.

You already felt the tears flowing, unbidden and unchecked, warming your suddenly freezing cheeks, at the sound of ‘sorry’ leaving his mouth. Because he had never said such a thing to you before. And you never, ever, wanted to hear it come from him again.

“What’s wrong?” You prodded again, limbs growing a little shaky in your anxiety. Breath hitching in your chest agonizingly, you could physically feel your heart pushing against your ribs.

Aching,

Burning,

Already seeping with hurt, even though you didn’t quite know what was wrong just yet.

Dr. Lee ran a rough hand up and down his face, sighing into his palm, shaking his head once. Then, his fingers were running through his black locks, tugging at the roots just a tiny bit.

Almost like, this crushed him just as much as it was about to pain you.

“It’s about Nyx.”

Swallowing over the huge lump forming in your throat proved very difficult at that moment, but somehow - by some miracle - you did it.

Your tongue felt heavy inside of your mouth- like it was made of hard metal.

For a few beats, you couldn’t manage to form the right words, but when you did, you already felt the stability seeping out of you. Like you were a hot air balloon that had been poked with a sharp needle, with the scalding air and sanity flooding from you in a single breath.

“I’m sorry, Miss. Y/N, I-”

“Just fucking say it, Dr. Lee!” You suddenly exclaimed, voice straining from your quiet sobs. The fat tears rolled down either of your cheeks, leaving angry wet trails in their wake.

He was silent after that, gaze running up and down the length of you slowly. Like you were one of his animals that he assessed daily - like he was testing out your strength and resolve.

Then, his eyes snapped back up to meet yours, and they melted into two puddles of grief.

“It seems as though Nyx is suffering from an acute form of bone cancer.”

And just like, your heart completely stopped.

Each breath you took felt garbled and all wrong.

Your shaky legs and arms wobbled all around you.

The floor crumbled underneath your feet,

Breaking, cracking, shattering irrevocably.

And in that moment, you wished for nothing more but for it to open up completely, and swallow you whole.

Please,

Oh, fuck, please-

Just swallow me already.

Because anything,

Anything,

Would be better than this newfound hell.

“No- no, you’re lying.” You said in a low, gravelly voice. You were clutching onto the arms of your chair, holding on for dear life. Like if you squeezed hard enough, you would be able to wake up and all of this would just fade away into a bad dream.

“Miss. Y/N, I’m so sorry but-” Dr. Lee started in a calm tone, but his face read everything but calm - as his brows wrinkled with concern and his brown eyes were alight with a certain kind of sadness.

“This is a bad dream, it has to be a bad dream,” you cut him off, violently shaking your head from side to side in your disbelief. If you just pinched yourself, maybe then you’d wake up from such a hell. So that’s exactly what you did.

Grabbing one of your arms, you frantically pinched at the skin there.

Again,

And again,

And again.

The tears blurred your vision so much that it was hard to see what was in front of you - hard to notice the angry red mark that started to bloom out across your flesh at your abuse.

Just then, two warm hands took hold of either of yours, fingers sliding between fingers, calloused palms squeezing your own.

The dark-haired figure was kneeling in front of you then, still holding onto your hands. Your heart felt like it was breaking over and over just beneath your ribcage. With each breath that you took, a new piece of it shattered off to swim in the blood flowing through your veins.

“Those symptoms that Nyx has been having are all signs of an acute form of bone cancer, Miss. Y/N. And, they will get worse,” the man said, his low, familiar voice running across your ears and nudging at a tender, warm spot deep inside of you.

“B-But she’ll get better, right? You can heal her, right, doctor?” You asked, throat straining from all of the tears. Through your hazy vision, you clutched a little harder at his hands.

There was a pause of silence on his end after that, which only made you feel worse.

When he finally spoke again, it felt like your world merely crumbled further and further. “Yongbok told me about your… situation, and why you didn’t bring her in earlier. But, because of the wait time, the cancer has developed into an acute case. The only options for helping her at this stage are- amputation and chemotherapy.”

It felt like someone took a bucket of ice-cold water and doused your entire form as soon as his words registered in your mind.

Because if you hadn’t waited so long to get it checked out,

If you hadn’t put it off because you didn’t have the money,

If you didn’t have such a low-paying, shitty job,

Then Nyx never would’ve gotten the cancer in the first place.

Instinctually, you ripped your hands out of Dr. Lee’s grasp. It was the first time you had ever had physical contact with him - and the feeling left you feeling both sick to your stomach and also sent anxious butterflies to erupt throughout your system.

“Oh fuck- it’s my fault,” you said in an incredulous tone, fingers digging into your scalp and tearing at your roots there. “If I hadn’t waited so long, she never would’ve gotten this and she wouldn’t be-”

You felt a heavy hand land atop one of your shoulders, nimble fingers pressing into your skin just slightly. Enough to help ground you back to reality. “I know it’s difficult right now, but I promise it’s going to be okay. You just have to take a few deep breaths and-”

“Where is she?” You asked in a low voice, having the sudden urge to hold your baby in your arms. Maybe, if she just felt you, she’d be healed… “Where is my Nyx, Dr. Lee?”

But you didn’t even wait for him to reply, as you tore away from his hold and hurried to the door, grabbing Nyx’s carrier on the way out. Faintly, you registered Dr. Lee calling out to you from behind, but you paid no mind to it and instead ran through the hallway just outside of the examination room.

“Nyx!” You called out, tone turning desperate. You raced down the hallway, sneakers hitting the concrete at your feet. “Nyx!” The tears clouded your vision, so it was hard to see where you going. But even still, you glimpsed Hyunjin coming out from a room in the back of the clinic, with a black mass of fur laying in his arms.

You cried out in relief at the sight of her, and in an instant, you were running forward and scooping her up and into your grasp. Pressing your face into her warm body, you cuddled her close.

“Y/N-” Hyunjin began, sympathy heavy in his tone. You felt his eyes travel across your face as you looked down at your sickly cat, with fat tears falling down your cheeks and a rapidly-beating heart.

“Let’s go home, my sweet girl…” You whispered so that only Nyx could hear you. And you couldn’t help but notice how light she felt in your arms - she hadn’t had much of an appetite in the last few months, and it pained you so much to know that you hadn’t realized it until it was too late.

Then you were turning away from Hyunjin, not even giving him any attention, as you rushed through the hallway and pressed onwards to the front desk area. Faintly, you could hear people calling out your name from somewhere in the back of the clinic.

But you couldn’t concentrate on any of that. All you could think of was your beautiful cat, who was peacefully sleeping in your arms. “Just a little bit longer, Nyx, we’re almost home…”

The rest of the week passed by in a blur of heartache and tears, as you battled with yourself and your mind to try and come to terms with what was happening.

With what you were going to lose.

It was hard to focus on anything else besides the impending doom that seemed to be right on your doorstep. You were slacking off at your work, which caused your boss to ream you out the next Monday morning. But you couldn’t help it - every time you tried to think about anything else besides Nyx, and losing her, the stormy feelings just came back tenfold.

You had found yourself holed up in your office’s bathroom stalls on more than one occasion already, and by the time it hit a week since you had visited the clinic, it felt like all of the tears had been completely drained from your body.

Every time you looked at her, you wanted to cry. You wanted to, but your body just wouldn't let you. So instead, you took to staying up late into the night and researching remedies to alleviate the pain of cancer - because truly, you hadn’t gotten a solid five hours of sleep since the diagnosis.

After two weeks, you had tried all of the solutions that you could find online - that ranged from implementing natural, whole foods into Nyx’s diet to rubbing lavender oil all over her limbs to try and soothe the pain from standing. Seeing her slowly start to deteriorate in front of your very eyes was possibly the worst part about it all - and how she’d whine and cry while walking around the house. Even Taffy could sense that something was wrong when her friend no longer had the energy to play with her anymore.

Throughout all of it, you avoided the phone calls. And they could be from only one ID - since you didn’t have any friends or family members who cared enough about you to call three times a day. Starry Skies Veterinary Clinic called you without fail, and they were adamant about getting in contact. No doubt Chan was on the other line the whole time, trying to talk some sense into you.

But you just couldn’t do it - couldn’t bring yourself to walk through those doors and face the dark road ahead that most-assuredly lead to death. Because you had already extensively researched the therapy for treating Nyx’s kind of cancer, and it was looking quite bleak. The procedures were so fucking expensive, it baffled you how anyone in their right mind could be able to afford such things.

Everything changed though, when on one Saturday night, you arrived home late from running errands and found Nyx sprawled out on your living room’s small, rickety couch. You scurried over to her side and shook her awake. But she wouldn’t open her eyes. And it seemed like she was hardly breathing. You called out to her again and again, startling Taffy of your presence.

When finally, Nyx awoke. After much pleading and crying, she opened her eyes lazily and stretched.

And so it was decided right then and there, that you’d go into the clinic that night.

You couldn’t afford to put it off any longer, and frankly, you had the feeling that Nyx couldn’t either. It was getting close to eight o’clock in the evening, and the clinic closed its doors for the weekend right at eight, so you made quick haste out of your dingy hell-hole-of-an-apartment.

When you arrived at Starry Skies Veterinary Clinic, the entire place was dark. You peeked through the windows and noticed the empty waiting room. “No, no- no…” You muttered to yourself, checking the time on your phone and reading that it was a little past eight.

You quickly looked around the street, noticing how most of the shops were already closed up for the weekend. Feeling the panic rising inside of you, you began to furiously knock on the glass door of the clinic. If someone was back there, maybe you could get ahold of Dr. Lee and-

“Miss. Y/N?” You heard a friendly, faint voice say from somewhere to your side. Turning around to the sound of it, you came face-to-face with Dr. Lee himself. He had his doctor’s coat off and was dressed in his usual work clothes of slacks and a dress shirt. “What are you-”

You pressed your hands against your chest, trying to calm your heart that was painfully beating against your ribcage. “Dr. Lee- please, it’s… it’s Nyx.”

His brown eyes flashed across the length of your form, the fading sunset coloring his skin in an orange and pink kind of glow. “Come inside, it’s too cold out to be standing around like this.” He said, already moving to unlock the front door of the clinic. After all, it was early spring and the nights tended to grow on the cooler side of things once the sun dipped below the horizon.

“Okay, thanks,” you whispered, following behind him as the two of you shifted through the clinic. Dr. Lee made his way over to a cluster of chairs in the corner of the waiting room.

“Please, sit.” He pointed to the nearest chair and waited for you to get situated before taking the seat just beside you. “So, tell me what’s going on.”

And suddenly, you realized the gravity of the situation. You realized that it was just the two of you - Dr. Lee and you - sitting inside the clinic, alone. There weren’t any other clients around, there wasn’t Chan or Jeongin, or Yongbok. And all at once, it felt rather… intimate.

You squirmed in your seat, your shaking hands beginning to play with the worn hemline of your oversized hoodie. Taking a deep breath, you gathered up all of your courage and leveled your gaze on the nearby front desk that was placed in the center of the large waiting room. “Well, I-I got home today from running some errands, and I found Nyx lying on my couch. But it didn’t seem like she was napping like she normally does… and she, she wouldn’t wake up. I kept trying and trying and-” Your words came out all rushed and garbled, as the tears began to crest over your eyes and you felt your cheeks heating with the flush of emotion.

“Hey- hey, it’s okay… don’t push yourself, yeah?” Dr. Lee’s smooth voice did something to the broken part inside of you - caused something to stir and yet settle at the same time. “That must’ve been a very scary experience for you, so it’s understandable that you would be shaken up about it.”

And just like that, the guilt piled on even higher.

Because Dr. Lee had always been incredibly nice to you and your cats. He had always been there for you guys, through the ups and downs of life, and you felt so horrible for ignoring the clinic’s calls. Because you knew that the team at Starry Skies Veterinary Clinic only wanted the very best for you and your cats… and especially, Dr. Lee.

“I’m so sorry for ignoring the clinic’s calls,” you suddenly blurted out, feeling the blush rise and pool in your ears at the feeling of Dr. Lee’s gaze landing on you - assessing your nervous state. Your thumbs continued to fiddle with the fabric at your waist, pulling and pulling. “I-I just didn’t know what to do, and I didn’t want to face the issue. But, I now realize how stupid that was- how stupid I’ve been about this whole thing-”

“Don’t ever say that again, Y/N. You’re not stupid, and Nyx having cancer isn’t your fault. This was something that was inevitable and nothing you could do was going to stop it.” Dr. Lee cut through your words. You tried to comprehend what he was saying, but instead, your brain was only repeating the same phrase over and over again.

Y/N,

Y/N-

Y/N.

He had used your name, without putting ‘miss’ before it. He had never done such a thing in the past. He had always kept things professional and addressed you by your proper title - just like you had done for him.

But all at once, you realized that perhaps you didn’t mind it at all. And perhaps, his dropping the honorifics wasn’t so bad.

“Still, I’m sorry for not answering the calls,” you said, shaking your head slowly in defeat. You were desperately trying to battle the furious blush that was slinking up your neck at the way that he had said your name. It sounded so perfect and beautiful on his tongue, like-

“I was the one making all of those calls, and I can assure you that I didn’t take your silence to heart. I understand what you’re going through right now because I’ve experienced something similar in the past with one of my passed cats.”

At that, your eyes tore away from the front desk and landed on Dr. Lee. Your gazes locked, and inside his chestnut-brown eyes, you found so many different emotions there… compassion and gentleness. There was a certain kind of faded light there, as you stared at him.

“I… I didn’t know. I just assumed that it was Chan or Jisung…”

Dr. Lee shrugged his proud shoulders nonchalantly, like him calling you three times a day to try and work out a treatment plan for Nyx wasn’t that big of a deal.

When in actuality,

No one in your entire life had ever tried so frantically to get ahold of you.

And the fact that it was him- behind the phone, waiting for you to pick up, hearing your voicemail click on every time the dial failed… just made you feel even worse.

“But that’s all in the past now, so don’t worry about it anymore,” Dr. Lee began, waving a hand in the air to seemingly try and clear your thoughts away. You watched in silence, then, as his hand slid away from his lap and hovered over yours. In a single beat, his fingers were threading through yours, palm against palm. And his hand was so incredibly warm and familiar. “Now, let’s instead focus on Nyx’s treatment, yeah? The sooner we can give her the help she needs, the better.”

For a few seconds, the thoughts of your dying childhood best friend had vanished from your mind and were instead replaced with the feeling of Dr. Lee’s hand holding yours and the way that his tongue formed your name, and the way he smelled - sitting so close to you - of warm chamomile and sweet cookies.

Immediately, at the mention of Nyx, you felt the tears prick at the corners of your eyes once more. “I-I don’t have the money.”

Silence filled the space around the two of you after that, and you felt Dr. Lee’s gaze studying your form, as you squeezed your eyes shut in embarrassment. “You mean for her treatment?”

“Y-Yeah… I, I don’t make that much. I can barely afford her and Taffy’s regular bills as it is. But, having to pay for the cancer treatment on top of everything else? I-I just don’t think I can manage that.”

You felt Dr. Lee shift in his seat beside you, making your eyes spring open as you watched the pained expression cast over his entire face. It darkened his cheekbones, shooting a look of pity through his eyes.

“The treatment is really expensive, I’m afraid.”

The hiccups started then, as the tears traced down your cheeks faster. Your entire body shook with the cries, “This is why I didn’t want to come here again… I didn’t want to hear the news that nothing else could be done except- except that.”

It was like the fucking jumbo-sized elephant in the room…

The fact that- the only other solution to Nyx’s cancer would be to put her down.

To euthanize her.

Gone, forever.

Just like that.

And even though you weren’t naïve enough to think that your cat would live forever, saying goodbye to her in such a way just felt downright… cruel, after everything that the two of you had been through together. But... what other choice did you have? It's not like anyone else was going to pay for the expensive treatment, and your insurance sure as hell didn't cover pet fees. And on top of all that, you couldn't expect Dr. Lee to drop his prices exponentially just for your specific case. That'd just be downright cruel to his other customers that paid the exact amount.

“I’m afraid you’re right,” Dr. Lee’s words cut through your stormy thoughts. A sharp pain coursed through your broken heart, as you were forced to come to terms with the problem at hand. “If you can’t afford the treatment, then the only other alternative is… euthanasia.”

You found yourself clutching onto his hand desperately, squeezing his fingers to death between yours, as you peered up at him through glassy eyes. “P-Please… just… just tell me you’ll do it. Because I-I don’t think I can handle it if-” Your voice seized in your chest at the thought of some stranger doing such a thing to your precious Nyx. It was already going to be extremely hard for you, but the thought of some other vet doing it just ripped your heart in two even more.

“We offer ethical euthanasia here, so, of course, I’ll do it,” Dr. Lee clutched a little harder on your hand, and the way that his warm, slender digits felt against yours did something to calm a rattling part inside of you. “Do you feel my hand? It is there, Y/N. And it will continue to be there throughout this entire process.”

The breath caught in your throat, forming a large lump there, as your eyes widened his way. Because there it was again, him calling you by your first name… with no ‘miss’ in front of it.

“T-Thank you… so much. I seriously don’t know what I’d do right now if it wasn’t for you and this wonderful clinic and all of the amazing staff here…” Your voice trailed off, as you felt the warmth of a flush creeping up into your cheeks.

“Yeah, well, that’s what we’re here for… to give as much support as we can to our clients.” Dr. Lee’s tone came out soft and quiet, it ghosted over the shell of your ear like an angel’s sweet whisper.

“I like it.”

You heard Dr. Lee take in a sharp breath at your disjointed words, but before he could ask the meaning behind them, you were talking again.

“You calling me by my first name, I mean… I like it, a lot, Dr. Lee.” Your eyes found him in the dim lighting of the room, and for a split second, you could’ve sworn that you saw… something flash deep in those chestnut-brown pupils.

But then all at once, it vanished, and he was giving you an easy smile, pearly white teeth on display. And pink, rosebud lips tugging up- wait, why were you thinking about his mouth?

“Me too,” he said in that delicate way of his, just as he squeezed your palm once more, “I really like it… Y/N.”

To be continued...

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©ʙʟᴏssᴏᴍᴡʀɪᴛᴇsᴛʜɪɴɢs⤐ ᴀʟʟ ʀɪɢʜᴛs ʀᴇsᴇʀᴠᴇᴅ

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blouisparadise · 3 months

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There were some amazing bottom Louis fics posted or completed during the month of January. We really hope you enjoy this list and show these fics love. Happy reading!

1) Strawberry Cake | Teen & Up | 1,789 words

When Louis gets stuck in a bad situation at a bar, Harry steps in to help.

2) Intoxicated | Mature | 2,156 words

“Could, I-uh- get a drink, perhaps?” The stranger asks. Louis snaps back. Quickly closing his mouth and attempting to respond to the deep and surprisingly demanding voice. “Oh, I’m sorry but we are closed for the day” Louis responds. In all honesty he could have made the man a drink, but the lack of supplies Louis had thus far prevented him from offering anything but a half drunk bottle of beer. “But the door was open.” The person retrots. Inviting himself further into the establishment and seating himself down on one of the tables. Louis knits his eyebrows together out of confusion. He also stops admiring the man and feels annoyance building up instead. “Yes, the door was open, but my bar is still closed.” Louis replies. Annunciating the fact that he was in charge so his words could be taken more seriously by this customer that was turning from charming to sour.

3) I’ll Love You When The Oceans Dry, I’ll Love You When The Rivers Freeze | Explicit | 2,515 words

Harry and Louis are on vacation with their friends. Louis gets very drunk so Harry takes him back to his hotel room. He sees text exchanges about Louis liking some guy and he gets jealous so snoops more and realizes it is him. In the morning, Louis realizes that Harry snoops and secrets are revealed.

4) Powerless (And I Don't Care) | Explicit | 4,061 words

Everyone on tour calls each other daddy, don’t ask why. And Louis is so used to calling everyone “daddy” that, when he finally comes home, naturally he calls Harry that.

5) Now You Hang From My Lips | Explicit | 6,292 words

Louis gives him an appraising look—starting at the soles of his expensive shoes and ending at the top of his head. “Just a drink,” he answers, because he loves this part—the chase. He loves having someone hanging on his every word and if there’s one thing for sure he’ll make somebody work for it. If H isn’t down for that, if he gives up too easily then it wasn’t meant to be anyways. Because that’s the other half of it, Louis also wants someone who will put him in his place. “Well in that case, I’ve got room with a minibar. Why don’t you come upstairs with me and you can have whatever you want.” Bingo.

6) Mother In Law | Mature | 8,070 words

Harry has been watching Louis from afar for about a month, but he refuses to call himself a stalker. He just admires him, not following him like a creep. Until one day, Louis approaches him. They have sex. Harry finds out that Louis is rich and he feels insecure. He decides that he needs to let Louis go. The problem is Louis falls deeper.

7) Behind Smoke Stained Curtains | Explicit | 19,054 words

It was a particularly lonely night when Harry walked through his door with a flurry of snow. He was a little rough around the edges with a trucker hat pushed down over untamed long hair. He looked a little greasy, a shower definitely not in his recent past. His tan Carhartt work coat was smudged with dirt and oil and caked with grime, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. The scent was overwhelming as soon as he walked in, unmasked alpha from days on the road stewing in a cab of his own pheromones. Louis was sure it was so deep into the fabric of his coat that no amount of washing would ever truly remove the stench. The worlds align when Louis meets an alpha from the road with as many secrets as he holds himself.

8) Sunshine (You Temptress) | Explicit | 26,870 words

All it took was one idiotic dare, one boy, one night. He’s twenty eight years old, six months fresh out of possibly the worst break up you could ever imagine, and his Friday nights are spent fucking a nineteen year old stranger. He’s still not completely sure how it happened.

10) The Road Not Taken | Explicit | 35,285 words

Louis’ not paying attention as his phone unlocks, and he’s shocked when the thread opens and there’s only one message there from an unknown contact. I’m home. For a minute he assumes it’s got to be a wrong number, and before he can decide whether to just ignore it or send a response the three dots show up and then a second message. It’s Harry by the way. And finally a third right after that. Are you busy tonight?

11) You Could Be The One That I Love | Explicit | 39,797 words

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Niall waved off. “Now, let’s talk man to man to man. You two have had a crush on each other since uni. Now’s your chance to finally get something going. I could see the sparks and connection and attraction back then and I can still see it now, God damn it! You’re just denying fate at this point.” He looked impassioned, his blue eyes wide and imploring. Louis shook his head again and chuckled. “You can’t just snap your finger and expect us to, like, get it on.” “I’m not,” he reasoned. “I’m merely telling you to do something about it.”

12) Paradise Is Getting Closer | Mature | 52,685 words

Louis hated his life, which consisted only of death and destruction. Despite the lives he had saved and continued to save, a part of him couldn't feel satisfied. He had been the one who gave up a normal life and although he knew what was to come, the loneliness had never left him in all these years, not even for a second. He felt it in his heart every time he approached a target, he felt it in the few minutes before falling asleep in his dingy car or while he allowed himself a few hours of sleep before setting off again, and he felt it every time he closed that door behind him.

13) Don't Want No Other Shade Of Blue | Explicit | 58,638 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

“I know you’re putting on an act,” says Harry after a moment, and Louis scowls when he realises the prince is actually amused. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” says Louis. “All I’ve heard over the past couple of years are rumours of Prince Louis’ kindness, and generosity, and oh, he’s so handsome I can barely pour his tea without shaking!” says Harry, putting on a silly, high-pitched voice for the last bit. Louis’ scowl deepens. “I would already know if you were just another selfish, bratty omega prince. You can’t fool me, darling, but I admire your efforts.” “As you said,” Louis grits out, “those are only rumours. I assure you, I’m a terrible person.”

14) Men Are Shit | Explicit | 77,728 words

Welcome to Louisland. Here you'll find fluffy socks, chaos and always enough alcohol to toast the fact that all men are shit.

15) You Were My Because | Explicit | 109,089 words

Note: Please remember to check tags for any trigger warnings.

Louis has battled the demons of his past for years now and has little hope of finding happiness for himself. Especially now that a school reunion is taking place and the memories of his school days are suddenly coming back with full force. But after rain always comes sunshine, in Louis’ case in the form of his old schoolmate Harry. A story about healing, friendship, finding trust and love.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

You can find other monthly roundup fic rec lists here.

#blp fic recs #bottom louis #top harry #blp #fic recs #larry

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rageprufrock · 9 months

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Hi Pru, this is a career question... I am in my mid-twenties, female, not quite the most junior employee at my organization but treated often as one. The workplace is highly male-dominated, competitive, the older supervisors sometimes hilariously old-boys'-club, and the younger men (my age) mean well (feminist, etc.) but have their own territories to defend. For complicated reasons I cannot leave. I knew some of this coming in but am ashamed to say that

You’ll love this: my response is so late because I too girlbossed too close to the sun and have accidentally reached mid-senior leadership status at my organization and the past month has been the most hilarious cluster of fucks. Insert clown emoji herey.

ANYWAY.

I have a few thoughts on this one, and hopefully one, or some, of these are helpful as you're navigating your early career.

To address your most immediate question: is it meant to be this hard? I think "is it meant" or "is it always" are two different questions, and each with branching answers completely dependent on your field and profession. Some are notorious for early career hazing--banking, medicine, etc--and then the answers are that the suffering is a feature, not a bug, for these industries (this can be debated ad nauseum but you know what I mean), and then for many, many other professions, the answer is that while it's not meant to be this difficult, it still is, and that it's all we can do to survive it.

But setting aside the macro issues, of whether the role itself is objectively hard or if the environment you're in is objectively sub-optimal, the more nebulous and inescapable thing is that each one of us, individually, in our early career are undergoing one of many puberties and all its attendant implied indignities. I find it weird that culturally we don't talk about this much--at least not in Western or the Eastern cultures with which I'm most conversational--but think about it: in the first five to ten years of your working life, you're often simultaneously navigating a staggering number of life-changing systemic shifts that have a tectonic impact on your lived experience. I

For a lot of us, beginning your life as a working adult means you're likely moving out of your parents' home, which adds a huge amount to your mental load and financial burden.

For a lot of us, these early professional jobs are also the first time we're operating in a performance-reward system for which there is no clear rubric or understandable progression monitoring--there aren't any grades, and I can't tell you the number of people who I've spoken to in my career who have been shocked when they're told they're being put on performance improvement plans even though they thought they were doing fine.

It's like being sent to college with no class list, textbooks hidden in eight different departments run by varyingly helpful people, while trapped in an inescapable group project run by someone who seems just as frazzled as you are, and told "okay well you should need to bring me your completed degree by EOD Thursday." This doesn't even take into account your genetic assignment to play this entire game on hard mode by failing to be a cisgendered man in the dominant cultural demographic.

People who've had multiple jobs and career changes can attest, every new job, no matter how seasoned you are, is fucking exhausting. It's almost a joke among my friends at this point how often I change jobs, and every single time I do, there's at least a six month run where at the end of every day, I'm fucking spent. I couldn't calculate 1+3 if my life depended on it, because I've spent my working day so furiously trying to read the professional tea leaves and figuring out what the actual fuck I'm supposed to be doing--which, funnily enough, is never as clear as you would think! Even if you are at increasingly senior levels of responsibility! It's really fun and good! Your boss's boss's leadership team meetings? Surprisingly similar to when I used go get coffee during my break working at an ice cream shop to complain about our customers and equipment and boss! It's amazing how no matter how much changes, everything stays the same!

So I think in the end, my answer to your question is this:

Is it meant to be this hard? Depending on what you do, maybe.

But should it be this hard? Of course not. Life is short and lush and wonderful, but already so filled with challenges, and it's a shame that being rooted in capitalism, we're all forced to participate in a system that's so unbending and unforgiving.

But does that mean it's going to be forever? Or that you can't survive and thrive and have fun in the process? Absolutely not.

However awful you feel, however bad the job is, it doesn't have to be forever. This role you're in now may be just what you need to find your next, better, better paid opportunity. And maybe that one won't be the ideal for more than a year, maybe two, but that's why you keep an eye out and a keen focus on what you want, and what's most important, and like a shark, you continue to move and grow as you get clearer on where you want to move and how you want to grow. The person I was at 24 could not have imagined the person I am at 38, and I'm guessing that the woman I am today can't fathom who I'll be in another 10 years. Whoever she is, I hope she's still choosing to do hard things and--to the very best of her ability--having a good time in the process.

It's okay to cry about work. It's okay to cry at work, even though I strongly recommend that you do this huddled in a restroom in privacy because otherwise it gets messy--fairly or otherwise. It's okay and normal to do these things. It's okay and normal to feel like a fucking disaster, to feel--or to in actuality!--be categorically failing. It is okay and normal to hate and love your job, and to love money and hate the work. There is no right way to do this, and the only wrong way is to give up on yourself, or to create a situation where you cannot have the freedom of your choices or your future.

It's also going to get easier with time. Even if you don't feel it, every day you're getting more experienced, more confident, more discerning. Those microscopic, atomic changes in you accrue, and I'm sure if you're honest with yourself you can already identify how even today, you are a stronger, more capable person in your professional context than you may have been just a year or two ago. Even if you don't mean to do it, just the experience, the bruises, the callouses from throwing yourself at the brick wall over time will rewrite the person you are--if you do this with your eyes open and intentionally, all the better.

Five years from now, ten years from now, you might still find yourself crying about work. But hopefully you'll share the good fortune I have been privileged enough to have, and find yourself the type of good friends who say, "don't care during work hours, it's beneath you to give them the satisfaction--cry later," and actually have the wherewithal to follow that extremely correct guidance.

So anyway, it shouldn't be this hard, but it is. The good thing is, you're better and stronger than it is, and you can look forward to the day you get to look over the shoulder at all the worlds you've conquered as you get ready to do it all over again.

💖

#advice #career advice

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complicatedchelsea · 1 year

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Fallen Through Time For You Masterlist:

Synopsis: Eddie Munson had his life turned upside down, literally. While he and the gang are dealing with the aftermath of Vecna, a new problem literally falls into their laps. Sydney Thompson, a twenty-year old from the future. The only explanation? The soulmark on her wrist tying her to Eddie. The only problem? There are no soulmarks from she's from. How will Eddie and Sydney interact? Will she stay or will some other power ruin the only good thing to come into Eddie's life?

Prologue: She Fell From The Sky

(Our group of mismatched heroes meet Sydney Thompson. What happens now?)

Chapter One: A Phone Book From The 80's?

(Sydney wakes up and the party discovers why she might have fallen into their laps.)

Chapter Two: It’s Kind Of My Thing To Pick Up Strays

(Hopper and Joyce show up. Sydney learns more about the group and learns that maybe landing in the past wasn’t so bad.)

Chapter Three: I Hate Pickles

(Sydney spends more time with the party. How hard is it to let someone in when you've spent your whole life pushing them away?)

Chapter Four: Can I Hold Your Hand?

(Is it really a night with the party if crazy shit doesn’t happen?)

Chapter Five: Conspiracies for Breakfast

(Is Sydney who she thinks she is?)

Chapter Six: Cafeteria Confessions and Palace Punches

(Sydney meets a new face in Hawkins. Will this person be friend or foe?)

Chapter Seven: A Little Bit of Government Hush Money and a Lot of Self Doubt

(Eddie is scared and has doubts. Sydney's trying to ground herself in the new life she has. A sprinkle of our favorite Uncle Wayne.)

Chapter Eight: Meeting the Parents, Meeting the Uncle

(Sydney finally gets to meet Uncle Wayne. A sprinkle of self doubt and plenty of fluff that will give you an overdose. Also both of our babes gets flustered.)

Chapter Nine: So You Think You Can Read Me?

(Sydney learns about Eddie's scars and gets to meet the famous Murray. )

Chapter Ten: Ladies and Gentlemen, Steve Harrington

(Sydney and Steve spend the day together. Slight angst that we all know and love.)

Chapter Eleven: Is It Illegal If She Deserved It?

(Sydney and Eddie get harassed in a supermarket. Will Eddie try to push her away?)

Chapter Twelve: We Built This House of Memories

(The story of the holidays with our lovely two characters. Sydney gets to spend Halloween with Eddie, Thanksgiving with an actual family, Christmas feeling like she finally has a home, the New Year with the man she loves, and a new look on her birthday. )

Chapter Thirteen: You Won't Embarrass Me Again

(Sydney has an altercation with Jason while waiting for Eddie. What happens? Will he retaliate?)

Chapter Fourteen: He's Not Going To Touch You Again

Eddie’s POV of the attack. How bad is she?

Chapter Fifteen: A New Normal

The aftermath of the attack. Sydney and Eddie have their first big fight.

Chapter Sixteen: It's Been A Year Now

Chapter Seventeen: A Place She Shouldn't Be

Chapter Eighteen: Through His Eyes

Chapter Nineteen:

Chapter Twenty:

(Chapter Length about 40 Chapters!)

(All links should be up and working!)

#masterlist #wip #eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson series #stranger things #stranger things series #eddie munson fic #time travel au #eddie munson x oc #eddie munson x fem!reader

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childlikegoblinqueen · 5 months

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Huntlow Week Day 5: Laughter/(Love) Letters.

Hunter had already spent two full weeks at Hexside and he knew that he'd be lying to himself and everyone around him if he didn't admit he'd gotten off to a "rocky start".

Of course, Boscha had used this term as a way to mock him. During his first few weeks, Hunter worked hard to adjust his very strict scout-trained brain to a High School setting.

One time in particular he'd saluted the Construction Magic professor after turning in his homework, and to his horror, the entire classroom -- including the professor burst out laughing. In fact, they all laughed so hard that a few class projects began to break apart, crashing

Hunter had slunk out of class, covered in dust and rubble to meet Willow and the others in the cafeteria. Here, he was soothed with many stories about Gus, Luz, Willow, and yes -- even Amity's own past classroom mishaps.

"Ya see?" Willow wrapped her pinky around his. "We've all been there."

When he'd finally relaxed enough, he leaned into Willow's shoulder and the two split a Crispy Chicken ala Vodka Sauce sandwich that Hunter had made earlier that morning. But his spine snapped right up at the sound of the bully's voice.

"Oh! Hello half-a-witch!" Boscha sang, "I heard your freak boyfriend is off to a rocky start to his school year! How appropriate since he crawled out of actual dirt and rocks like an insect."

Hunter fought his darkest instincts to fight Boscha right there. Since the moment he'd stepped into the advanced potions class beat her out for top student, Boscha had been constantly pointing out that he was a grimwalker and thus implied that Hunter was not worthy of being treated like a regular student. Really, he was used to it.

But when Boscha called Willow that terrible moniker? The one Willow had called herself in the cave when her magic had gone haywire in a desperate attempt to be everything for everyone (and no one for herself)?

Hunter balled his fists close to his chest.

He began to glow.

And then?

Willow grabbed his hands. Slowly, unfolding his fists she dropped a floral shaped piece of paper right into the middle of his palm.

Slowly, Hunter unfolded each petal as gently as a kitten.

In the middle was a note.

Two words.

You're cute

A squeak escaped his throat. Next to him, Willow was smiling softly.

Now there were three new words.

I like you.

And then? Six more words.

You've got something on your face.

"W-what is it?" He gasped. "More dirt? Sauce from the sandwich?"

Blushing, Willow reached forward and laid a palm on either of Hunter's scared cheeks.

She was blushing. Hunter felt his heart rumble as he looked down one more time at the note.

The words had changed again. This time it read.

My lips!

And without any more warning she kissed him! In front of everyone in the cafeteria, Willow laid a soft warm kiss on Hunter's lips.

"Ooooooooooooooooooo!" Sang Luz and Gus and Amity and Skara and Viney and Matt Tholomule, Jerbo, Cat, Amelia, Bo, Mary...

"DOES LITERALLY EVERYONE HAVE LUNCH AT THE SAME TIME AS US?" Hunter shrieked.

Then he stopped. Everyone was smiling. Willow was smiling.

And then they all fell apart into peels of light gentle warm laughter.

And Hunter? In spite of himself he felt his eyes and mouth turn up as he also began to laugh.

Arching a brow, he grabbed a piece of paper and a quill and scribbled furiously in the middle before folding it into three parts and sliding it over to Willow.

"Oh? For me?" Coyly, the plant witch batted her eyes and began to unfold the note.

Fold one. Three words.

You are beautiful.

Willow blushed.

Fold two. Four words.

I like you too!

Her green eyes lit up, and her cheeks dusted red.

Fold three. Eight words.

Now you've got something on your face, Captain!

And Hunter lunged forward delivering the loudest, wettest raspberry ever across one of Willow's perfect apple round cheeks and then the other.

"YOU GOOF!" She laughed, which made Hunter laugh too -- and then all of their friends, as the memory of Boscha's bullying became nothing but a passing shadow.

#toh fanfic #hunter noceda #the owl house #toh hunter #willow park #willow x hunter #a03 fanfic #huntlow #huntlow week 2023 #huntlow week #hunter toh #toh willow

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ufonaut · 5 months

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WELCOME TO THE FOURTH ANNUAL COMIX OF THE YEAR EXTRAVAGANZA!

I've grown very fond of this little tradition we've started here, and it's nice to get a chance to showcase all the books I've read and loved and could shout about from the rooftops. This year I've read 140 completed series out of a total of 474 over all completed series (as always, that's not counting single issues or current ongoings!) and I've come to expand my physical collection to 735 issues -- that's more than any previous year!

It's been a really great year, from getting to see my first article published in print and getting to write a couple dream articles for a magazine that's meant the world to me to getting to visit Graceland & Memphis with some of my best friends in the universe and then getting another two weeks with my beloved best buddy @slaapkat right here in London! I also feel like I've gotten more into the local comics scene and grown more confident as the true real fanboy I am.

The JSA's renaissance also remains a miracle to me and the definitie highlight of these past two years. Without further ado, here's this year's favourites:

Justice Society of America (2022) #8 In a November 2022 interview, Geoff Johns said: "to me, he's the most iconic character in the Justice Society of America. […] To me, Alan Scott is the main character." Right then and there, I knew we were in good hands. I have loved this series from day one and I still love it like nothing else in the world but this particular story might be the best single issue I've read this year -- it feels like coming home, it feels like the first time we've seen the real Alan Scott in so long. There's something very special about the few occasions team books have allowed a spotlight to shine on Alan alone, more so when he's found himself the heart of the story. This issue with its gorgeous art and picture-perfect characterisation feels like just the thing I've spent so long searching for.

Slam-Bang Comics (1940) It's hard to explain how the funniest comic you've ever read is a wildly obscure Fawcett publication that lasted six issues in 1940, but that's precisely what the Diamond Jack stories in Slam-Bang Comics are to me. Diamond Jack is early absurdist comedy, Diamond Jack is a case study in what made the Golden Age sincerely and genuinely the medium's best era -- its endless room for innovation, the lawless approach of creators building a new art form from the ground up. On the first page of his first appearance, we learn Diamond Jack was given a miraculous gem by an "old magician": this is all we ever learn of our hero. In the third panel of that same page, he dares a pair of robbers to shoot him. It only gets better from there.

Enigma (1993) An eight-issue miniseries about an ordinary guy whose favorite 1970s obscure comic book character seemingly comes to life with all that implies and in the process of investigating this bizarre series of events with the help of the original series' writer, he also comes to terms with his sexuality as a gay man. It's the single most compelling, complex, meaningful book I've ever read. It's also the very first explicitly gay mainstream comic, and it might as well be the only one for its radical no holds barred approach to sexuality (on-screen gay sex included, a complete rarity in this era of sanitized intimacy).

A Contract with God (1978) Widely acknowledged as the world's first graphic novel, Will Eisner's classic anthology certainly lives up to the immensity of its legacy. As the man himself writes in the introduction to the 2000 edition, "I realize I was really only working around one core concept – that the medium was an art form in itself. Unique, with a structure and gestalt all its own, this medium could deal with meaningful themes. Certainly there was more for the cartoonist working in this technique to deal with than superheroes who were preventing the destruction of Earth by supervillains." Four stand-alone tales make up the book, all following Jewish characters living in the same New York tenement in the 1930s, all based on Eisner's childhood recollections and impressions. I remember crying, really crying, at that first story and then laughing uproariously at the next and so on. There's really no way to express just how special this book is without reading it for yourself.

Seven Miles a Second (1996) Published posthumously, Seven Miles a Second is David Wojnarowicz's autobiographical graphic novel detailing the last years of his life before his AIDS-related death. It's urgent, angry, hard-hitting, bleak, and a sincere mandatory read for any gay person interested in our history. It made me sob like few things have. In the here and now, it's surreal to think that DC Comics had published this in the mid-1990s under its Vertigo imprint -- it's often surreal to me that we used to have genuinely daring gay comics published by one of the 'big two', and we've been left with less than a shadow of comic books' former self. Still, the few we have are some of the most significant to have ever graced the medium.

Catwoman: Selina's Big Score (2002) This is a funny one. I'm not a library-goer but while wasting time at the library down the street early this year, I ran into this big collection of all of Darwyn Cooke's Batman stories -- they're great, they're always great because Darwyn himself was a giant of the industry, but Selina's Big Score was one I hadn't read before and it's ended up being something of a life-changing chance encounter for yours truly. Something about this little book utterly changed the way I look at Selina Kyle as a character. I'm a big crime fiction buff, there's no denying that, but it's the subtext that makes the book; the exploration of the cold, hard, mean way Selina navigates the limitations imposed by her gender and social class. It's something else, it's really something else.

Parker (2009) And speaking of cold, hard, mean things. Darwyn Cooke's Parker is something of a package deal with the above, Selina's man friday in Big Score is named Stark and undoubtedly based on Richard Stark's Parker. That's how I got here, but I certainly never left. Months and months later, Parker's still on my mind as one of the most compelling characters I've ever encountered and one of the most beautiful, right-up-my-alley series in existence. Darwyn's four graphic novel adaptations are masterpieces in their own right and I cannot recommend them enough to anyone who's willing to listen but I'm also forever grateful that they've introduced me to my ongoing obsession with Stark's actual novels -- one of the few pieces of fiction I've been genuinely blown away by in recent times. "Rough, macho stuff but tight and exciting, too" is what a blurb on the back of one of the books says and I couldn't agree more, and I can't say I've ever found anything else so uniquely suited to all my interests.

Stargirl: The Lost Children (2022) I'm not the biggest fan of sidekicks or original characters, or children. Yet, somehow, this series won me over in a heartbeat. Geoff Johns has a truly uncanny ability to make a new character feel like they've been here for decades; in this particular case, the so-called Lost Children mix so well with actual Golden Age characters that their introduction betrays nothing except a genuine passion for and knowledge of 1940s comics. Geoff's work has been some of the best of the modern era for a long while now but this one's really a beautiful and beautifully self-contained little story hitting some great emotional beats.

I Die at Midnight (2000) On New Year's Eve 1999, a man decides to kill himself by swallowing too many pills after a bad breakup. Immediately afterwards, his ex decides she wants to reconcile and he's sent into a mad-dash attempt to save himself without her finding out about his impending death. Misunderstandings, frustrations, lies and hare-brained schemes ensue. It might not sound like the makings of a comedy but I Die at Midnight ranks up there with the funniest books I've ever read, I've spent this last year making my way through all of Kyle Baker's DC work and it's certainly tough to choose a favourite but there's simply no other book that captures his delightfully offbeat humour quite like this one.

Silverblade (1987) One thing's clear: 1987 was a magical year for DC Comics. I don't think there's a single year in the industry's entire history that's produced more hits or better books. Silverblade's a special one though, it's the Sunset Boulevard of comics. If there's anything I love half as much as crime fiction, it's anything dealing with Old Hollywood, throw in a heavy dose of gaycoding and it's the book for me. I read this one very early in the year but it left a lasting impression and I've definitely come to consider it something of an all-time favorite.

SPECIAL MENTION:

Flashpoint (2011)

Blackest Night (2009)

Before Watchmen: Dr. Manhattan (2012)

Face (1995)

Jay Garrick: The Flash (2023)

A History of Violence (1997)

Batman: Death and the Maidens (2004)

You Are Here (1999)

Stuck Rubber Baby (1995)

V for Vendetta (1988)

#THE BEST OF THE BEST RIGHT HERE FOLKS AND MY GOD I DO LOVE DOING THIS #comix of the year #personal #u can rb though etc

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thedawningofthehour · 9 months

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didn't you say you were making Draxum's house in the sims? Did you ever finish? :(

So I whined about this on my main blog, but I'm having issues with my computer. The power port, and I've noticed this for a while, gets extremely hot whenever I try to run anything more intensive than Powerwash Simulator, and the past few months it's become harder and harder to get it to charge. (I'm not overclocking or anything-I bought this computer for gaming and made sure it had the specs to run shit like my heavily modded Skyrim and Fallout, it should be able to run Sims) I contacted Acer about a repair and they quoted me over eight hundred dollars. The actual computer was about 1200-1300, for comparison. There's other issues with it as well-there's a chip on the screen that's really obvious on a white background, and they advertised that it would support a second hard drive, but it's never recognized the one I bought. The power port is the most grievous though, and power ports on laptops are notoriously hard to repair.

And this computer isn't old. I bought it last spring. Less than a year and a half-and I've barely been gaming on it because I've been writing this, so I spent over a thousand dollars on a turtles fanfiction machine essentially. (there's been other reasons, depression funk caused a complete disinterest in gaming and after so many mass shootings I've started feeling guilty whenever playing games with guns, but writing is mostly what I've been using this expensive gaming PC for) I only had the one-year warranty that came with the computer, but honestly I can't find it in myself to regret that too much because I have never once had a company actually honor a warranty. It's like safety deposits on apartments or insurance claims-they'll do everything they can to weasel out of doing what they're supposed to.

So back to your question-I currently don't trust my computer to run the Sims. Or anything else. And I can afford to buy another gaming PC right now, but it would be financially pretty irresponsible. I returned the tablet I bought to draw with, and I think I'm going to get one of those two-in-one laptop/tablets so I can use it for drawing and writing. Maybe I'll be able to run the Sims 4 on that-it doesn't have to run great, I use it mostly as a building simulator. Kind of sucks though, Crusader Kings 3 came out with another expansion pack and the new Cities Skylines is coming out this fall, plus I've been getting a hankering to play Skyrim again.

But enough about my computer woes, I do think I have some screenshots I could show...

First floor, I apparently took these during the first round of building because I made a lot of changes. The lab is way bigger now, and I have the rest of the house shell done. The blank space in the back right is where I was going to put in the multi-story room where the turtles find the weapons-which is probably the least completed part of the entire house because holy hell the building controls do not want to work with me.

But in the back left you can see Cass and Gale's rooms! :)

I do like how the main hallway turned out. I know it was mostly destroyed on Creation Day, but let's just say Draxum redid it in the same style. The middle picture, that's the little storage room that hides the door to the part of the house where Gale's room is. If you know the Sims you can tell where the secret door is.

And yes, I know the half-walls under the stairs look ridiculous, I've fixed it since then. I couldn't just extend the half-wall all the way back because it would delete the upper staircase, for some reason.

I'm pretty proud of how the living room is turning out. Could be a little bigger, but the symmetry of the bookshelves are just too perfect. (also the curved walls get fussy, FUCK CURVED WALLS) Needs some clutter on the mantle though.

The kitchen no longer looks like this, I moved around a lot of the pictures and added another layer of cabinets, because Draxum probably has like six sets of fine china he's received as gifts throughout the years and refuses to part with. I added more retro-looking décor, because the last time he remodeled this room was in the sixties and I wanted it to look a little old-fashioned. I also imagine he refuses to get an electric stove, saying his mystic wood-burning stove works just fine. I tried to work a pantry in, but it didn't really pan out. (lol) And the more I think about it, he probably has a legit larder somewhere in the basement, since Draxum is from a time before refrigeration and would have grown up storing food in underground cellars. (and he deffo has like several years worth of food stored away, he's pretty much a doomsday prepper)

This is also incidentally the layout of the kitchen at my old house, hence the weird octagon dining area. Except we had windows. With no curtains. In the woods. It was unsettling to cook at night.

Draxum's study is bigger now, and I think I added a fireplace? He absolutely has eight bazillion degrees and awards and he puts them ALL on his wall. He earned that shit, dammit.

His bedroom's nothing to write home about. It's comfortable, not luxurious. There's no electric lights because he prefers candlelight.

Just imagine that white bathroom counter stained with pink splotches from Draxum's hair dye.

I had BARELY done anything with the pool, but as you can see it is indeed a tank. Draxum was planning to keep a mutant or something in there.

I was actually in the process of redoing the entire greenery lol, but I think I did an okay job on 1.0. Not the mason jar lamps though, I'm not sure what I was thinking there.

Some pictures of Lab 1.0. The ooze-vine-thing looks terrible; I straight up haven't even started to recreate it in 2.0. I pushed back Draxum's alchemy area and gave him an actual medical bay in the back, which is where The Table would have been located.

That's mostly Gale's area on the left, I think it still broadly looks this way? I didn't put in stuff like the robotics table because it just looked silly-and besides, we're not actually playing this build. We know Galois only needs two hands and a welder to make a robot.

I will leave you off with a slightly more clutterfied Gale's room! Oh, but also, I GOT PURPLE CC CURTAINS FOR HIM. :D After I took this picture, but just know he has them now. He has no reason to have them because he does not have a window, but I'm happy for him.

#okay i did not intend to spend an hour doing this #i was gonna post the next chapter tonight but i don't think that's going to be happening no #not much of a surprise it needed a lot of work and i've been dragging my heels on it #doth asks

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pocketstoriesstore · 9 months

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Hey there. Sorry for my choice of words, I’m from BR and I love to write, but I write in Portuguese 🤭 this time I decided to do different so here we are. I hope you like this piece of story.

More coming soon.

————————————🫀—————————————

“SOUNDS FAIR”

Part I.

You're counting the minutes to finish the activities at the bar where you've been working the last few days.

You decided to accept the job just to be able to spend some time with your best friend since you arrived in her city to visit and, to be honest, you also needed to reset your thoughts and inspirations , after working for six years with different types of art.

Maybe it's true what they say about hard work being good for the mind, because the two of you spend the hole time laughing your asses off under your hands and behind the pillars so your customers don't feel uncomfortable with your inside jokes- and whining.

You both complain more than anything, but in your case it's not always a joke.

In fact, exaggerated jokes and lamentations helps you to get rid of memories from a past that you don't want to remember so soon, at least while you can't be strong enough to face it.

But that Tuesday promised more than any of the eight days of staying at Eliz's house.

Almost eleven o’clock. You two were ready to leave work a little earlier, so you decided to spend the last minutes smoking in the back of the bar (hidden from Eliz's father, who abhorred cigarettes although he also sells them to the costumers), complaining about the loneliness of the lack of a new love in your very difficult lives of endless work.

Elizabeth:“Could it be that it was easier to be a hooker than a bartender? “

You laughed out loud at the question.

You:”At least hookers are never alone."

E: "You see: they have sex, they are never alone and they parade around much prettier than the two of us, who smell like cigarettes and beer"

y:”Elizabeth, for god's sake!"

E:”Look at our hair! We need help!"

Y: “Any help is welcome. Anything, seriously, I’ll die one of this days, you’ll see.”

While you put out your cigarette and get ready to make your way to the bar again to take your bag, a motorcycle whose model you merely know as a road passes by you slowly, but you can't see the face of the blond rider. He seemed to be looking for a place to park among so many other motorcycles.

You strain to see his face without looking like an obvious idiot, and hope he's a bar costumer.

Well, he stops where you want. He looks around, so you can see his face. What a godamn face! You feel almost angry.

For a second he seemed to glance at you, but that would be too much for your sick mind. That was too fast, did he see you? You don’t know, but you saw him.

Goal.

E:”Oh, this guy is such a dream! They say he works for the police, but he doesn't talk to anyone so I don’t know. Once I asked my father about him and his name, but he told me that he was only sure that he would like me having all this interest in keeping the family business on tracks.”

You laugh.

E: Seriously, I've already made myself look ridiculous twice trying to get his attention, spent three therapy sessions confused as to whether I felt rejected or whether he really exists.

Elizabeth talks a lot, but that time you WANTED to hear a lot.

E: He literally didn’t look me in the face. NEVER. He always orders whiskey, reads some messages on the phone, checks his watch all the time, looks around as if he’s waiting for someone, and only talks to my father and Sebastian, the waiter who replaces us when we leave earlier. He smells so good! His helmet sits at my dad's feet at the till because my dad is afraid I'm going to grab it and give it back to the owner just to try to talk to him, cause I did that once but he just said "thank you". I hate him.

You laugh even more.

Y: He hated you first, he deserves all your hate, baby. And you know what? Today I’ll give back the helmet to him. After pouring him his whiskey, of course.

E: No way! Please avenge me! I'll pay you fifty dollars if you do this! My God, I feel hysterical, I'm going to die laughing!

Y: Well, let's find out his name, too. If you want to know his age, marital status, even if he is a police officer as they say, increase the value to one hundred dollars and I’ll give it all to you.

You live her at the corner of the bar door, laughing as she watches.

You get inside the bar at the same pace you usually work at, take the bottle of whiskey and pour it into the glass while chasing him around. But you don't see him.

you feel the frustration filling your lungs, because you made huge plans in a few seconds and even less meters away. You already wanted all that so much. Why? Was all that loneliness? What a ridiculous situation.

At least you tried to keep that little heartbeat you felt a few minutes ago.

With your melted face and the eternal seconds passing you by, you felt even more anxious, quitting the hole day like you've paid your karma for betting someone's personal informations for a few dollars.

Y:” Okay, that’s why I never play games.”

You rip off your apron, swallows all the whiskey from the glass at once, lights another cigarette with the bar lighter - because even your own lighter was gone, and goes towards the door, feeling your throat still burning with whiskey.

Suddenly he comes in and your heart stops.

He puts out his cigarette, takes your lighter out of his pocket, holds it out to give it back to you and says, in the lowest and calmest voice as it’s possible, with a hint of laughter:

"A hundred dollars, huh? Sounds fair. Name’s Leon."

#leon kennedy #leon scott kennedy #fanfic #stories #storytelling #leon fanfic #leon kennedy fanfic #resident evil #biohazard

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moralesispunk · 2 years

Text

Agent Spooky (Marcus Pike x Female Reader)

Summary: When Marcus comes across a case he can’t solve he finds help in the place he least expected it

Warnings: a little spooky but nothing too scary, there will be some liberty taken with personality to fit the dynamic of this fic but as usual with my reader inserts there will be no physical descriptions other than the clothes worn

A/n: based of this post I made and tagging @skeletoncowboys just because look I did write! (this may just be a little 2k word teasing fic and your mind can take it elsewhere or I made add to it in the future... let’s keep the door open with this one that’s made me excited for Autumn)

There have been a handful - or maybe more - of cases during Marcus Pike’s career where there had simply been no answer. These kinds of cases have been few and far between, especially since his move to the art crimes department where, unlike other departments, the crime is generally so niche and high level that it would take a lot for the local police or FBI to be left with no solution.

Those few cases where Marcus had been left with no answer, where the puzzle of evidence that he likes to put together - even if it takes a year or more to solve - just doesn’t fit, are all ones he still remembers. They don’t keep him up at night and he rarely thinks about them but he knows exactly where they have been filed six floors below to gather dust just in case any more evidence pops up and they can be reopened.

In every single case where Marcus had to pass the files down to archives, he did so after getting the same feeling in his stomach; one that gives him the go-ahead to mark it off as unresolved and closed, that is a familiar mix of frustration and agitation but mostly… acceptance. He knows that the culprit has gotten lucky and there is a piece of evidence that was just never found, one that never will be found, and it’s enough of a reassurance for him to box it up and seal it with tape. These are the kind of cases where there is something not quite right but also not quite wrong either.

In short, Marcus has never had a case that he has struggled to let go of. Never had one that drives agents close to madness as they read witness statements hundreds of times and spend day after day in the office as they scour through the evidence over and over again only to still come up short. He’s had cases he still thinks of - especially from his younger days as a field agent where an innocent person was in the wrong place at the wrong time - but none that keep his mind reeling… until now.

The one that sits sprawled out on his desk is one that he has spent every waking minute for the past seven months thinking of and there is something… something that doesn’t quite feel like any case he’s had before. His direct boss, the man who also happens to hold the title as Director of the FBI, told Marcus to let this one go after six months of no leads. “It’s not worth the time or resources,” were the words used, but Marcus had doubled down.

His fingers gripped the file tighter as he stood before the Director’s desk, his jaw ticking as he looked off to the side before trying once more. The Director finally agreed when they found a compromise of another month of Marcus and a smaller team before an additional month where Marcus - and Marcus alone - could work on the files.

Right now he was into the first week of working without a team and that meant he had only four weeks left before the case would be packed away never to be seen again and Marcus just wasn’t ready for that to happen yet. He has been in the office since six this morning and it’s almost eight, his eyes tired and head aching but his focus is lasered in on the screen as he reads the evidence he has gone over a thousand times before:

The painting was placed on the west view wall at 7:06PM on Tuesday 8 February 2022 (Exhibit 4D - CCTV footage) by Mr Warner and witnessed by Ms Mills, the artist of said painting. At 9:04PM the security guard on duty that evening, Mrs Johnson, walked by the painting that was still in place (Exhibit 4E). At 9:56PM the CCTV malfunctions and returns at 9:57PM (Exhibit 4F) and the painting is missing.

All doors were locked. There is no one other than Mrs Johnson seen on CCTV at any other points of the gallery. There are no vents in the room. No fingerprints were found on scene. There was a substance found in place of the missing painting by forensics on the morning of Wednesday 9 February (Exhibit 6C) but this has not been identified as anything known by-

His reading is interrupted when his office door opens with a bang.

He had been certain until now he had been in the office alone at this time on a Friday. He had been sure of it when he passed by the dark bullpen only half an hour ago on his way to fill up his coffee, the hairs standing up on the back of his neck as his footstep echoed around the empty hall, so the way his heart now hammers in his chest and his hand grips the edge of his desk is a tame reaction to the abrupt interruption.

Before he can open his mouth or even look away from the screen a quick set of footsteps hit against the carpet before stopping at his desk, the slap of a file hitting the dark wood following quickly after. His head stops its movement towards his unexpected guest, instead following the file as his eyes land on the bright red CONFIDENTIAL that has been printed across a report he knows all too well, one that is a condensed version of the papers that are laid across his desk right now.

He knows that if he opens it he will find three pages of evidence; sixteen of witness statements; two of photographs taken of the painting; four full excel sheets of guests who attended the gallery in the prior three weeks; and one of the initial complaints.

Why the file on the desk and who the person is who brought it to him are two things he does not have the answer to at this moment.

Eventually he turns in his chair, his eyes looking up from the stranger’s feet to their face as he takes in every uniform violation - eight, if he counted correctly - from the dirty off-white sneakers; to the dark jeans that could maybe pass for suit trousers if the light was any lower; to the white t-shirt that has been half tucked in; to the striped shirt that has been thrown over the top and is currently creased and hanging off a soft shoulder where a raggedy brown, leather satchel bag hangs.

“Come in,” he says sarcastically, noting the lack of knock at his door before it flew open so hard the handle hit the opposite wall.

“I can help with this case; the one you’ve been stuck on.” Marcus’s eyes had only reached the stranger's mouth by the time they answered while ignoring the abrupt entrance and getting straight to the point.

“How do you know-” He stopped talking when he finally took in their whole face, watching as she fixed the leather strap that had been slipping down her shoulder before fidgeting with the plastic bag in her hand.

She was… well, she was very pretty. Marcus was sure he had never seen her before, he would remember if he had, but while half of him was stuck wide-eyed and staring at the attractive woman with kind eyes before him, the other half can’t help but be annoyed at the rude entrance when he still has so little time to review the facts of this case… again.

“I’m sorry, do you work here?” He tries again with another question, his hand reaching for the alarm button under his desk as he tries to pinpoint an FBI badge on her person.

“Yes, I work here,” she replies with a roll of her eyes and it only furthers Marcus’s annoyance, his hand falling away from the alarm as she pushes her shirt to the side to reveal a badge hooked into the belt loop of her jeans. “Archives.”

It takes a moment for his brain to catch up and he can’t help the breathy laugh that he lets out.

“Oh… so you’re Spooky.”

Spooky as in Spooky Mulder as in the extra terrestrial believing FBI agent that most agents of his age had been hooked into watching every Friday then Sunday nights of the 90s as they dreamt of working for the FBI. They had idolized the man who ran down corridors in his baggy suits with his trench coat billowing behind him as he solved the x-file cases.

Turns out when all these avid watchers turned into adults who worked in the FBI, such an agent felt like a nightmare - Marcus had a conspiracy theorist on his last team, Deborah, who didn’t believe in the moon landing and thought the birds were spies of the CIA and while it had entertained him sometimes, most of the time he couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

Marcus Pike dealt in facts. Physical evidence he could see before him. Not “make-believe”. Not like the agent before him who had made her reputation well-known within the FBI across the country and it wasn’t a reputation that Marcus would ever want tied to his name.

She came up through the academy a good ten years after Marcus but there were already whispers of the junior agent who seemed to solve the cases the Bureau never spoke about again. She never worked well in a team and was always talking about extra terrestrial causes of missing persons cases or unexplained phenomena; cases that were just sadly those kind that couldn’t be explained because of a missing piece of vital information, Marcus would reply with a roll of his eyes when someone would talk about Agent Spooky again.

He had never worked with her directly, had never even seen her until now because she had been put in a box room down in the basement by Archives. He had walked by her office a few times and once when the door was open a couple of inches he even peeked in before quickly walking away when he spotted a poster that said “WE ARE NOT ALONE” with a UFO print out below it.

He had, however, had colleagues and close friends who had worked with her. She had come upon cases they had been stuck on and while they complained at first, within a few weeks the case would be solved and they would never mention it again. When Marcus asked what happened they would just wave him off and say that “something popped up” and it would just confirm to Marcus that the problem was only a piece of missing evidence. Not aliens. The very thought made him roll his eyes again.

“I see my reputation precedes me,” you finally held out your hand - the hand of your arm where the shirt sleeved had been rolled up to your elbow rather than the one that still hung unbuttoned by your wrist. You gave him your real name, one he promptly repeated.

“Listen, Agent-”

“Doctor.” You corrected him with a kind smile.

“Doctor…” Marcus sighed. “I don’t know why you’ve been sent here but-”

Again, with another interruption, you placed an evidence pack on his table. Exhibit 6C, aka the piece of evidence that was giving Marcus the uncertain feeling in his stomach that made him cling to the case for now. His eyes widened before he managed to school his expression, taking the plastic bag in his hand.

“How did you get this?”

He held it out towards you between his forefinger and thumb, his eyes looking at the black substance that no-one could seem to identify. When you didn’t answer he looked up, finding you chewing on the inside of your cheek before you shrugged. So now you’re quiet.

“I’m sorry, I really don’t have time for this Doctor-”

“But-”

“No. Sorry,” he added as an afterthought. He didn’t have time to deal with you now, not with the deadline looming closer and closer. “I’m on a tight deadline with this one and I need to spend my time on the cold, hard facts so…” Marcus stood, brushing by you as he walked to the door. “It was nice to meet you.”

You turned back away from him and he watched you pick up the evidence and file, taking another second to look at the reports fanned out across his desk as you ran your fingers along them before turning around. There was a hint of a smile on your face as you walked back across the carpeted floor to the door, stopping by his side as he looked down at you and you fixed the leather strap on your shoulder once more before speaking again.

“See you soon, Agent Pike.”

His mouth opened to reply but you were already gone, his head turning to follow as you walked back down the empty hall and out of sight. With a sigh and shake of his head Marcus walked back to his desk.

It didn’t take long for him to get lost in the pages and pages of evidence once more but with his focus on the white screen he doesn’t see the way the light in the corner flickers off and on or how his window begins to slide up bit by bit until there’s a six inch gap. His eyes don’t tear away from the screen until his office door opens with a bang again and the wind from outside spins around his office like a whirlwind, sending paper flying around.

“Shit!”

He stands with a start, facing away from his office door as he reaches to slam the window down again and cut off the wind that causes chaos in his small office. He stares out into the night and the street is almost completely dark except for the moonlight that shows the trees that are starting to turn auburn. When he looks at the branches they don’t seem to move, no sign of the wind that had caused havoc only a moment before, and when he turns back around he almost expects you to be standing there again but all he can see is the tunnel of a dark hallway, leading towards the stairs that take him straight down to the basement.

He wants to ignore the goosebumps and the uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach, but as he sits back down at his desk with the door left open he can’t help that every time he looks up he finds the sign that points him down to you.

tags

@phoenixhalliwell @asta-lily @hb8301 @princess76179 @sarahjkl82-blog @spideysimpossiblegirl @blackmarketmummy @bison-writes @queridopascal @sfr99 @rosiefridayrogersunday @tintinn16 @pilothusband @voteforpedro09 @dihra-vesa @frankiecatfish @wild-at-heart-kept-in-cage @transias @peoniarose @pjkimrn @fangirl-316 @niki-xie @potted–ivy @phandoz @janebby @athalien @xocalliexo @amneris21 @lavenderluna10 @iamskyereads @spacenerdpascal @mswarriorbabe80 @dumplinshee @jitterbugs927 @gracie7209 @lovesbiggerthanpride @lowlights @notabotiswear @alexxavicry @harriedandharassed @bport76 @fangirl-316 @1andthesame @pedrostories @nyfeeer @seasonschange-butpeopledont @thereisaplaceintheheart @graciexmarvel @trickstersp8 @dreamiesunny @oogaboogasphincter @mstgsmy @booksaremyyoga @bport76 @sirpascal @nyfeeer @manuymesut @alwaysdjarin @hb8301 @agingerindenial @adriiibell @darnitdraco @nolanell @buckybarneshairpullingkink @quicksilvermad @kirsteng42 @mandos-riduur-reading @dins-cyare @milispunk

#marcus pike x reader #marcus pike x you #marcus pike fic #marcus pike x female reader #marcus pike x fem!reader #marcus pike #the mentalist

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the-al-chemist · 2 years

Text

Artemis Hexley and the Return to the Riddles

Chapter 2: Mayhem at the Ministry

A/N: Artemis’ work experience placement gets off to a bad start. Warnings: A plot twist of decently sized proportions…

Having spent six years living and studying at Hogwarts castle, Artemis had seen a great deal of grandeur in her life. However, nothing at Hogwarts had quite prepared her for the splendour that was the atrium of the Ministry of Magic.

The atrium was a large and grand hall, bigger than any of the rooms in the castle, with dark polished floors and a high ceiling decorated with slowly moving golden symbols. The walls were even shinier than the floor, and lined with ornate fireplaces. Overhead, flurries of paper airplanes soared through the air, and she and her friends were surrounded by the hustle and bustle of hundreds of witches and wizards making their way through the grand room.

“It’s a bit crowded, isn’t it?” Charlie murmured as they left the security desk, dodging out of the way of a witch running through the atrium from a nearby fireplace in the direction of a monument in the centre of the hall.

“I quite like it. It’s exciting,” Artemis replied, and she pulled at his arm gently, her eyes on the monument the witch had just run past. “Come on. Let’s go and see what that is.”

“I need to go and meet Liz and Barnaby for the orientation-”

“I know, and you will. It won’t take a minute to go and look, will it?”

Charlie sighed, and both he and Tonks followed Artemis to the centre of the atrium, where they were able to see that it was not simply a monument, but a great fountain, with five enormous statues in the centre - a witch, a wizard, a centaur, a goblin, and a house-elf - all carved out of bright shining gold. Artemis stared, mesmerised by the way the light in the atrium reflected off the surface of the statues and the water droplets that cascaded around them.

“They look a bit gormless, don’t they?” said Tonks, one pink eyebrow raised at the house-elf statue.

“Shush,” Artemis hissed back at her. “I think it’s brilliant.”

“Speak for yourself. All I’m saying is in all the times I’ve been to the bank I’ve never seen a goblin gaze lovingly at me like it wants to kiss my-”

Artemis rolled her eyes and turned to Charlie, who was also regarding the statues with a sceptical look in his brown eyes.

“Don’t you like it either?”

“I mean, it’s pretty,” Charlie said, frowning slightly.

“But?”

“But I don’t think whoever made it has ever met a real centaur before. Can you imagine Torvus looking at anyone like that?”

Following Charlie’s line of sight, Artemis had to admit that he had a point. Torvus was the only centaur Artemis had ever met, and though they had eventually made their peace with one another, they had not gotten off to the best start. Looking closer at the golden centaur statue, Artemis could see a look of wonder and admiration in its expression that would have looked positively absurd on Torvus’ face. Still, there was something about the centaur statue’s gilded visage that seemed somewhat familiar. She was certain that somewhere - in a book or a painting, perhaps - she had seen a centaur look just like that before.

“Maybe that’s just Torvus,” she said, crossing her arms across her chest. “I know he’s your friend, Charlie, but he can be pretty rude and abrupt sometimes.”

Charlie blinked at Artemis. “Well, some people like that.”

Tonks snorted, and Artemis shook her head and narrowed her eyes at Charlie, who almost smirked.

“Right then, shall we go and experience some work?” he suggested, and they made their way through the crowds to the lifts at the far end of the atrium.

Inside, they could see from the controls of the elevator that they were currently on Level Eight, several storeys below ground level. In fact, only two levels were below them: the Department of Mysteries on Level Nine, and the courtrooms on Level Ten, which could apparently only be accessed by stairs. Artemis froze, her hand still reaching out to the buttons of elevator.

“Artemis…”

“Sorry,” she said, shaking her head quickly and pressing the buttons she required. “I just… Never mind.”

Artemis avoided meeting either Tonks’ or Charlie’s eyes as the lift jolted into action, carrying them up and out of the atrium. Of course, they would know about the upcoming trial - it had been all over the Daily Prophet, after all - but she was not in the mood to talk or even think about it today. She was almost relieved when the elevator halted, with a voice calling out to announce:

“Level Six, Department of Magical Transportation, incorporating the Floo Network Authority, Broom Regulatory Control, Portkey Office, and Apparition Test Centre.”

“That’s me,” she said, stepping out of the elevator. “See you both at lunch.”

“Let us know if they have the report from Charlie’s Apparition test. I’d love to read it.”

Laughing at Tonks’ request, Artemis made her way down the main corridor of the Department, dodging several paper airplanes that flitted past her. She wasn’t quite sure where she was meant to go, so she stopped the first wizard she saw to ask him for directions.

“I’m afraid I just work for Magical Maintenance,” the wizard said apologetically, his moustache wrinkling as he pursed his lips and frowned. “I’m sure that I can help you find someone who knows where you’re supposed to be, Miss Hexley.”

“How did you know my name?”

“You’re wearing a name badge.”

“Oh, yeah,” Artemis nodded. “Thanks, um…”

“I’m Reginald Cattermole,” the wizard said, gesturing to his own name badge, his sleeve slipping slightly to reveal a bandage wrapped around his forearm. He pointed his wand at a toolbox at his feet, which sprouted four stumpy legs and trotted alongside the pair of them as they continued down the corridor together. “But most people call me Reggie.”

“I used to have a friend called Reggie.”

“Did he look like me?”

“Not at all,” Artemis grinned, looking up at the new Reggie. He was far smaller than her old friend, thin and pale-skinned, with strawberry-blonde hair and a fidgety and almost nervous demeanour. Her Reggie had been the opposite: tall, black, broad-shouldered, and perpetually calm and reassuring. Her smile faded slightly. She hardly ever thought of Reggie these days, but now that she did, she was surprised by how much she missed him, even now. “He was a Muggle. He lived on a boat.”

“Well, he sounds like a very interesting character,” said the new Reggie, and he and Artemis continued their journey in silence until they heard the sound of a man’s voice in a nearby office. New Reggie looked at the name on the door the voice came from. “Ah, Wilkie Twycross. Good old Wilkie. He’ll know where you’re meant to go.”

Wilkie Twycross was a small and slight wizard with a pale complexion and wispy white hair. At the sight of her, Twycross’ light blue eyes narrowed and his barely visible eyebrows furrowed.

“And you are?” he asked her.

“Artemis Hexley. Work experience.”

To prove her point, Artemis pointed to the badge on her chest. Twycross’ eyes narrowed further.

“You’re late.”

“Am I?”

“Yes,” Twycross sighed loudly. “You were supposed to be here at nine.”

“It’s only five past,” said Artemis, frowning at her ankle, where she wore a watch that used to belong to her brother. “I’m not that late.”

“Late is late, Miss Hexley. Transport has to run on time. I’ll take it from here... Cattermole, is it? You’ll need to fill out a health and safety form.”

“You what?” New Reggie blinked, before looking at Artemis and grinning. “Oh. Her.”

“Yes, her,” said Twycross. He conjured a scroll of parchment and a quill as if from nowhere and passed it to Artemis. “Once you’ve filled that out I can show you around the offices. You will be in the Portkey office today, but you will need to know where the other offices are, and the tea room, of course.”

The Portkey office was the thing Artemis had most been looking forward to. Portkeys were magical transportation devices that were disguised as non-magical items that could be easily hidden in plain sight of Muggles. Once they had been authorised, they could take witches and wizards all over the world, and Artemis was excited to have a go at helping to set them up and try them out. She filled out the health and safety form hurriedly, wondering all the while which far-flung destination she would get to visit first.

Unfortunately, it turned out that there was to be no foreign travel for her today.

“We have a lot of paperwork to sort out,” said Basil, the wizard she had been told to assist, who seemed a lot friendlier than Wilkie Twycross. “We’re having to arrange a last-minute international Portkey for Karasu.”

“Karasu?” Artemis tilted her head and frowned. She couldn’t see why her friend Tulip would need an emergency Portkey.

“Yes, Karasu from the Department of International Magical Co-Operation. He’s our ambassador to Japan,” Basil explained. “He is needed at an urgent meeting regarding the escape of a high-security prisoner-”

“Shiratori,” said Artemis, nodding her head sagely. “I read about him in the paper. Can I help?”

“You most certainly can.”

“Brilliant. What do you want me to do? I can help set up the Portkey, if you show me how, or I could test it out for you.”

But to Artemis’ dismay, Basil laughed and reached down below his desk and produced a large mug. He handed it to Artemis with a smile.

“Why don’t you start by doing the tea round? Mine’s a milk and two sugars.”

By lunchtime, it was obvious that Artemis had made a terrible mistake. The workers of the Department for Magical Transportation did not appear to do very much - if any - travelling themselves, instead just filling out endless amounts of paperwork and drinking endless numbers of cups of tea. As a result, Artemis spent her entire morning wandering between the Portkey Office and the tea-room. It was tedious and tiring, and only made worse by the fact that all her friends had enjoyed the morning far more than she had.

“Nothing about dragons yet,” said Charlie, who had been spending the morning in the Department for the Control and Regulation of Magical Creatures with Barnaby Lee and Liz Tuttle. “But we got to watch the Magizoologists examine a Wampus Cat that’s just been imported from America. Only from a distance, obviously.”

“Obviously,” Artemis muttered, jealous of any opportunity to have seen something as exciting as a Wampus Cat, even if only from a distance.

Apparently unaware of Artemis’ growing frustration, Barnaby nodded excitedly. “It was very cool. I’m so glad that I stood up to my dad for once. He said that Magizoology is pointless and I should go with him to the Department of Magical Artefacts, but-”

“What’s wrong with the Department of Magical Artefacts, Lee?” Merula Snyde - who had just spent all morning in said department - asked, her violet-coloured eyes narrowed at Barnaby. “It’s good enough for your dad, isn’t it?”

“Yes, exactly.”

“Right… So, what have the rest of you been up to so far?”

Tonks had been in the Department of Magical Law Enforcement shadowing the Auror Mad-Eye Moody, and she entertained the group of students with impressions of him and his magical eye; Andre Egwu and Murphy McNully had met a selection of Quidditch players from the Caerphilly Catapults in the Department of Magical Games and Sports; and working alongside Merula, Badeea Ali had been allowed to sketch some of the items held by the Department of Magical Artefacts. It seemed like Artemis was the only one who had so far been bored by work experience, and she told them as much.

“Well, it wasn’t that interesting in the Department of Magical Accidents and Catastrophes, either,” said Tulip Karasu. “The Obliviators mainly seem to do a lot of paperwork. But then, I was kind of expecting that, seeing as they work out of an office. My dad’s the same. He’s going to Japan this afternoon, though.”

“Wait,” Artemis frowned. “Your dad is the ambassador to Japan?”

“Yep,” Tulip yawned theatrically.

“You should’ve done your placement with him, that way you might’ve been able to go to Japan with him later.”

“Maybe, but this afternoon I’m getting to go to the Exploding Bonbon Disposal Unit, so...”

Artemis scowled. She would have loved to have seen the Exploding Bonbons. Unfortunately, all that awaited her back at the Portkey office was a stack of international Portkey requests, which Basil had her sorting into date order while he and his colleagues processed the most pressing of the requests.

It was whilst reading a request for a Portkey to Mexico the following week that Artemis noticed a spot of water fall onto the unscrolled parchment in front of her, blurring the exact location. She frowned, and a second later, felt a second drop hit her on her bare forearm. She looked up, and a third drop of water landed in the centre of her forehead.

“Is it just me, or is the ceiling-”

All of a sudden, it was as if the heavens had opened within the Portkey office. Though the room was several levels underground, the ceiling had begun to rain, and with each passing second, the rain was falling more and more heavily. All around Artemis, the office had descended into chaos, with the witches and wizards working there all sheltering themselves and their masses of paperwork under their cloaks. Within minutes, every one of them was rushing to leave the office entirely, taking their work with them in an attempt to save it from the deluge.

“Artemis,” Basil called out to her, using his wand to conjure an umbrella, which he left levitating in the air over his own work as he followed his colleagues out empty handed. “Go to Magical Maintenance and find someone to sort this out, will you?”

By the time Artemis had found Magical Maintenance, explained the situation to Reggie Cattermole - who seemed a lot slower than he had earlier on in the day - and returned to the Portkey Office, the room was flooded, with water dripping from the now-empty desks into deep puddles on the floor, whilst still pouring from the ceiling above.

“Blimey,” said Cattermole, his eyes widening at the sight. There was a great rumble of thunder overhead, and he grimaced. “Oh, blimey.”

“Does this happen a lot?” Artemis asked him, and he shook his head.

“Well, you get the odd atmosphere malfunction, I suppose. Never seen anything of this scale before, though.”

“Can you fix it?”

“I hope so,” Cattermole pointed his wand at the ceiling. “Finite incantatem!”

There was another roar of thunder and a flash of lightning struck a chair at a nearby desk. Reg grimaced, and Artemis raised her eyebrows at him.

“Maybe I’ll have a go,” she said, remembering a spell she had learnt in her fifth year at school. She pointed her own wand straight upwards, and called out the incantation, “Meteolojinx recanto!”

At first nothing happened, but then, gradually, the deluge started to ease, the thunder stopped rumbling, and the rain came to a complete stop. Artemis smiled and pocketed her wand before wringing out her hair, the water she squeezed out of her sodden dark tresses splashing into the puddles underfoot.

“What in Merlin’s name has happened in here?” said a voice from behind her, and she turned to see an impeccably smart wizard with almond-shaped eyes standing behind her. There was something familiar about him.

Before either Reggie Cattermole or Artemis could answer the newcomer, Basil appeared in the doorway to the office, his hair and robes still dripping wet.

“Terribly sorry, Mr Karasu,” he said, squeezing past the well-dressed wizard - who, now that Artemis thought about it - bore a striking resemblance to Tulip. “Had a bit of a situation in here… Raining ceiling, you know how it is. Looks like Maintenance have sorted it now. Ah. Thank you for that, Cattermole, that will be all.”

Basil nodded at Cattermole, and walked across the room towards his desk as he continued, “Thankfully we were able to finish arranging your Portkey before, Mr Karasu. I presume that’s why you’re here.”

“Indeed it is. Though I hope that this strange rain won’t have affected it.”

“The Portkey, you mean? No, not at all. They’re hardy things, Portkeys, a bit of rain won’t be a problem. Besides, I left an umbrella over it, just to be…” Basil’s voice tailed off as he reached his umbrella-protected desk and frowned down at it, before looking around himself as if he were lost. He bent down and looked under his desk, and when he emerged, he turned to Artemis with a troubled expression on his face. “Artemis, where is the ambassador’s Portkey?”

“I dunno,” said Artemis. “Probably wherever you left it.”

“I left it here. Right here on my desk. Was it here when you got back from Magical Maintenance?”

“I’m not sure,” Artemis’ eyebrows furrowed. “I don’t think so. Everyone was rushing to get their stuff out of the room when it started raining. Maybe someone picked it on their way out.”

“No, I was the last person to leave and it was here then…” Basil’s face blanched, and he turned to look at Karasu with a look of horror. “I’m afraid, Ambassador, that a situation might have arisen.”

“Don’t tell me that the Portkey’s been lost,” said Mr Karasu, a single eyebrow raised at Basil.

“It hasn’t been lost, no.”

“Well, then-”

“It’s been stolen.”

“I don’t understand,” Artemis said to Tonks, who arrived at the Portkey office with a group of Aurors half an hour later. “Why would anyone want to steal a Portkey?”

“Free holiday?” Tonks suggested. “They’re pretty expensive, international Portkeys, aren’t they?”

“I dunno, I’ve never had to buy one before. Would someone really be that desperate for a free holiday?”

“Maybe they just really like sushi. Or maybe a Niffler did it, like in that story with the detectives. You know the one I mean.”

“I don’t have a clue which one you mean,” said Artemis. “Whatever the reason was, they all seem to think it’s pretty serious.”

Across the room, one Auror was deep in conversation with both Basil and Karasu. Artemis recognised the Auror in less than a second; with his heavily scarred face and one large electric blue eye, Mad-Eye Moody was unmistakeable.

“It’s highly suspicious, I’ll give you that,” Moody was saying. “One can’t help but think that this fiasco with the raining ceiling was simply a diversion tactic for the thief. The Portkey in question was meant to go to Japan, you say?”

“Yes.”

“Well, that in itself is concerning, given the situation with Shiratori.”

“That is actually why the Portkey was being arranged at such short notice,” Karasu said curtly. “I had been asked to attend a meeting with the Japanese authorities regarding Shiratori’s escape. It might be a coincidence, but-”

“I don’t believe in coincidences,” muttered Moody. “I believe in vigilance. Constant vigilance. We shall get some of our brightest Aurors on the case. In the meantime, I’ll need this office kept clear. We will need it to collect evidence.” He nodded to the two wizards and started to stride towards the door. As he did, he called out without even looking back, “Tonks, stop playing with the evidence.”

Tonks sighed and stopped trying to splash Artemis with the puddle at her feet. She shrugged, and stood up straight as if to leave.

“See you later, then,” she said, before frowning and calling back to the Auror: “Hey, Moody! Can Artemis come with us this afternoon?”

Moody turned back around and fixed both his magical and non-magical eyes on Artemis, whose heart lifted slightly. The Auror office was bound to be more interesting than the Portkey office, raining ceiling or no raining ceiling.

“Actually, that would probably be a really good thing for me to do,” said Artemis quickly. “I mean, I’m only going to get in the way here, what with everything that’s going on, and I was one of the witnesses, too. I might be able to help you with your investigation. And also-”

“Do you have any interest in Magical Law Enforcement, Hexley?”

“Not really,” Artemis admitted. “But it turns out I don’t have any interest in Magical Transportation, either.”

Moody made a gruff humming noise, and walked away without any other response. Artemis and Tonks shared disappointed looks, and Tonks followed him. Resigned, Artemis pursed her lips and crossed her arms across her chest, but as Moody reached the door of the Portkey office, he raised his voice once more.

“Well, Hexley? Are you coming or not?”

A smile spread across Artemis’ face, and she darted out of the Portkey Office before anyone could stop her. She followed Moody and Tonks back to the elevators, which took them up to Level Two, The Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

“Down there is where Charlie’s dad works,” Tonks said, pointing down the corridor. “And in there is the Improper Use of Magic Office. Chester Davies, that Ravenclaw Prefect who played the piano” - she mimed doing so to illustrate her meaning - “works there now. And this is the Auror office.”

Tonks smiled proudly as they approached a set of large oak doors, which opened to reveal a large room with multiple desks, many of which were situated inside separate cubicles. At many of the desks, one or two witches were sitting, either working on files or discussing amongst themselves. A couple of the cubicles had black and white photographs floating in the air, bright lines connecting certain images with others.

“That’s how they link evidence together to solve crimes,” whispered Tonks. “I got to see them doing it earlier today. It was wicked.”

Beside them, Mad-Eye Moody’s magical eye rotated, as if he were looking at each and every cubicle in the room. It settled on one cubicle at the far end, and he made yet another gruff grunting sound.

“Wait there,” he told Artemis and Tonks. “I need to talk to Shacklebolt.”

He strode across the room, leaving Tonks and Artemis by the main door.

“Shacklebolt?” Artemis whispered to Tonks.

“Yeah, he’s one of the other Aurors.”

“I know that. He’s one of the ones investigating R,” frowning, Artemis watched Moody disappear into one of the cubicles. “Surely, this Cabal wouldn’t be interested in stealing a Portkey, though…”

“Maybe they’re not talking about the Cabal. Not everything is about the Cursed Vaults, you know.”

“Yeah, but-”

“Isn’t this amazing?” Tonks sighed. “Like, these are actual Aurors, doing actual Auror work. See over there, that’s Rufus Scrimgeour. He’s the head of the whole department, and that’s Proudfoot and Savage, they’re investigating an illegal potions house. And there, with the bandage on his arm? He’s John Dawlish. He got hit by curse from a dark wizard a week or so ago, only started back on the job this morning.” She nodded, a satisfied smile on her face. “Yeah. I could definitely see myself here.”

“I could see you here, too,” said Artemis, completely honestly, as John Dawlish the Auror fidgeted in his seat and, grinning, waved at Tonks with his non-bandaged arm.

“Hexley.”

Mad-Eye Moody’s scarred face and magical eye peered out at Artemis from the cubicle screen, and he beckoned her over with a forefinger. She and Tonks exchanged glances, and Artemis walked across the office towards Moody.

“In here, Hexley. There’s someone I need to introduce you to,” said Moody as she approached the cubicle, and he gestured to the wizard inside. “This is Kingsley Shacklebolt.”

Inside the cubicle, a wizard in purple robes rose up from his seat, and as she saw his face, Artemis felt her heart skip a beat.

No. Surely, it couldn’t be… Could it?

She looked at him more closely, her eyes widening as they took in his tall frame, his black complexion, his broad shoulders.

She knew him. Or, at least, she had known him. She had thought that she had known him, anyway.

The wizard Mad-Eye Moody called Kingsley Shacklebolt - but who Artemis knew by an entirely different name - let out a deep melodious chuckle that made her feel just a little bit calmer in spite of her bewilderment and confusion, and smiled at her as if she were an old friend.

“Hello, Tiny.”

#artemis hexley #hogwarts mystery #hphm fic #hphm #the hexley saga #nymphadora tonks #charlie weasley #mad eye moody #barnaby lee #merula snyde #tulip kasaru #andre egwu #liz tuttle #diego caplan #murphy mcnully #badeea ali #kingsley shacklebolt

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heroinejinx · 1 year

Text

‘One Fine Day’ - Songbird, part 1 of 6 (Seraphine x Jinx AU)

So, um... I have a new rarepair hyperfixation. Definitely didn’t write this when I should’ve been focusing on uni work due in less than 2 weeks, what’re you talking about?

Anyway, Seraphine is an aspiring popstar working full time in her father’s music store, Songbird. Life is good but kinda lonely, and then Jinx comes along...

Chapter title, ‘One Fine Day,’ is based on the song by The Carpenters.

Also, big shout out, love and kisses to my handsome wife Babs (@lesbian-batman)who beta’d for me <3 love youuuuu

TW: extreme cuteness and fluff. That is all.

(1,181 words)

AO3 link

Enjoy!

Dreamy vintage pop drifted through the music store’s speakers, bringing life to the rainy Zaun afternoon outside. The takings from the morning were low, especially for a Friday, and the bout of bad weather had driven away any hope of more sales. Might as well have closed up for the day, there and then.

Seraphine idled behind the counter, passing the time by singing along to each song, adding her own trills and high notes where she felt like it. While she belted out tune after tune, she doodled flowers and love hearts on the notepad allocated for ‘work purposes only.’

Her father would’ve flipped his lid if he found out how Seraphine spent her downtime at the store. Songbird was his pride and joy, in part because he’d named it in honour of his daughter, his only child. He’d called her Songbird ever since she was born; said even her crying sounded like an aria.

She took great care of the store for him, of course, but he wouldn’t have approved of her methods. There’s always something to do around here, he’d say. Make yourself useful instead of daydreaming. As a former rockstar and current sound technician for one of Runeterra’s most famous bands, he was hardly one to talk; he dreamed of success back then, just like she did now. Whilst he had the freedom to make his dreams come true, he’d also seen how the music industry corrupted people. He didn’t want the same for her, no matter how much she protested. Since he’d left to join K/DA on tour, she found herself shackled to the store with almost no time to pursue what she loved most.

Music...

Seraphine strived for the spotlight. Over the past couple of years, she had played dozens of open mic nights and gigs at small venues and clubs. Her reach and popularity grew every day. In the last month alone, she’d gained over five thousand new followers on social media and music streaming platforms. It was only a matter of time before a scout from a record company realised her potential and scooped her up.

Until then, life ticked by. Eight ‘til late at Songbird six days a week; studio recordings in the evenings, or at the weekend if she could find someone to mind the store; writing sessions crammed in wherever and whenever she found the time and inspiration. It was hard work, but anything regarding music barely felt like work at all. Music occupied all of her time, mind, and heart. It informed every aspect of her life, even her relationships.

To Seraphine, people were like songs. She’d never tried to explain it to anyone else – had met no one who would’ve understood – but everyone had a melody to them. Strangers gave off waves, impressions. At first, most people sounded like white noise or a continuous low-fi beat. She had to know someone on a deeper level to really hear them; for them to feel open enough to let her listen. It was a long time since she’d gotten close like that.

Between running the store and cultivating her fledgling pop career, she had no social life. Most of the people she’d met through music were acquaintances, transactional connections. In a crowd of fair-weather friends, voices blurred and distorted in the din. Everyone sounded the same.

Seraphine gazed out upon the shop floor filled with CDs, vinyls, and cassette tapes, with no one around to take them home and play them loud like they deserved. A cold loneliness seeped into her soul. She hated days like those, nothing to do but entertain herself and ignore the boredom itching beneath her skin. Music was a lovely companion, but sometimes she needed more than it could give.

With a wistful sigh, she tore off the decorated page of the notepad. Tacked it onto her father’s cork board of concert leaflets, old photographs, music lesson advertisements, and Janna knew what else. The cheerful rumblings of a new song played overhead, as she picked up her favourite bubble-gum pink gel pen, the same colour as her hair, and started on a new page. She drew a dainty love heart so cute she couldn’t help but beam with joy.

Admiring her creation, she didn’t look up when the bell chimed for a new customer. No one had come in for at least two hours; she was out of work mode, in her own little world. Chances were, they wouldn’t need her help, anyway. They were probably stepping out of the downpour, grabbing shelter where they could. It happened a lot around that time of year, heading into fall. So, she ignored the customer’s presence. Even kept singing, albeit under her breath.

‘Hey, do you have any other Bikini Kill records in store?’

Wow, that voice...

Seraphine met the customer’s eye immediately, desperate to find the owner of such an instrument. A petite young woman glared back at her with quizzical impatience, waving a copy of the band’s 1993 album, Pussy Whipped. A navy boiler suit dwarfed her frame, while ocean blue braids swung around her booted feet, frayed and scruffy like they’d been under a hat all day. She had the most distinctive eye colour Seraphine had ever seen. They weren’t quite purple or pink, but some inscrutable shade between the two. Under the store’s artificial light, the colours seemed to switch and swirl.

The music of Bikini Kill seemed to suit her aesthetic, raw and full of rage at the world in that feminist punk rock way, but there was more to her than that. Something unreadable lurked behind those ever-changing irises. Rather than the white noise of a typical stranger, she was a mess of pitch and frequency; a cluster of songs overlapping and battling each other.

What an enchanting cacophony of a person...

Seraphine yearned to hear more, to know everything about this captivating woman. What was her name, her story, her purpose? What were her fears and dreams and fondest memories? Did she have family in Zaun, or was she from out of town? What did she do for work and in her spare time? Did she have a lover? What was her type? Did she like girls...?

‘Well? Do you?’ She spoke again, raspy and sweet. A smoker’s rasp, no doubt.

The image of her posed with a cigarette between her plump, open lips, danced across Seraphine’s mind before she could stop it.

Blushing and hot all over, Seraphine shyly shook her head in reply and returned to the comfort of the notepad.

Janna, it was all so surreal. She had never felt so compelled by a person, and from such a tiny interaction, no less. She couldn’t follow this woman’s song at all, and she... well, she loved it.

‘Okay... I’ll be back.’

With that, the new object of Seraphine’s fascination turned heel and left.

She thumped her head onto the counter and groaned. All she could do was hope that she wouldn’t miss the next visit. And, if the woman bought something, maybe Seraphine might catch her name?

#hehehe #i love them so much #serajinx #seraphine x jinx #cherrybomb #serajinx au #seraphine #jinx #fluff #music #fanfic #lol fanfic #arcane fanfic #songbird #one fine day #songcannon

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dustedmagazine · 4 months

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Andrew Forell 2023 End of Year

Robert Forster, photo by Stephen Booth

2023 buzzed by in a whirl of too much work and music. So many records and so many missed. I kept going down rabbit holes of genre and artists, chasing and never quite hauling in all the things I wanted to, or felt I should, listen to. In the end, music being so difficult to rank, here, in alphabetical order are the records I spent most time with a bunch of others I’ve been recommending to anyone who would listen.

The Feelies – Some Kinda Love (Bar/None)

2023 has been a good year for guitar music. New albums from Teenage Tom Petties, The Reds, Pinks and Purples, The Drin, The Tubs and The Murder Capital have been on high rotation here. So why a 2018 live tribute to a band who broke up in 1973 by a group in their fifth decade? First, these are songs are from The Velvet Underground, and second, simply, The Feelies. Joined by Richard Barone and Joey Maestro from The Bongos, they rip through a set that features the “hits” and some lesser-known songs with affection but not awe. Glenn Mercer and Bill Million’s guitars thrum in the style we are accustomed to, while Stanley Demeski, Dave Weckerman and Brenda Sauter provide rhythmic support which adds a dynamic swing to songs like “There She Goes Again,” “Head Held High” and “I’m Waiting For the Man.” Some Kinda Love is a pure dopamine hit of great songs played by a brilliant band. Joy and fun in equal measure.

Robert Forster – The Candle and the Flame (Tapete)

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On The Candle and the Flame Robert Forster produces some of the most emotionally direct and effecting songs of his career. Recorded in the shadow of his wife, Karen Bäumer’s diagnosis of, and treatment for ovarian cancer, Forster writes with grace about family, friendship, love and the past. The only song written in direct response to the illness “She’s A Fighter” contains only six words but the propulsive tension of the music expresses everything Forster doesn’t attempt to say. It’s an extraordinarily powerful performance, a cathartic blast, and for me, one of the songs of the year. “Tender Years,, “The Roads” and “When I Was A Young Man” are also up there. As I said in my review “few (songwriters) imbue the quotidian joys of domestic life and the power of memory with such poetry.”

Iceboy Violet – Not a Dream But a Controlled Explosion (Fixed Abode)

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On their self-produced album Not a Dream But A Controlled Explosion Iceboy Violet mixes rap, grime and swathes of liminal ambience into an emotionally purgative chronicle of identity, desire and fantasy which flows with a dreamlike intensity. Over deep pulses of sub-bass, taiko influenced percussion and concrete noise, their voice shifts in and out of focus, here a background whisper, there an urgent Northern accented boom. The music, like the vocals, is in constant flux, slipping between hard club beats and eerie ambience. At just 17 minutes, the eight tracks here stay with you for far longer.

The Inward Circles – Before We Lie Down in Darknesse (Stone Corbel Press)

Scottish composer Richard Skelton manipulates a six second fragment of Baroque recorder music taken from the run-out groove of a battered 50-year-old vinyl recording into haunted soundscapes that to tap into something primordial and elemental within layers built like geological strata. This is music to lose yourself in. Obsidian and glacial, Skelton’s work captures and preserves trace elements of melody and rhythm so imperceptible that you feel as much as hear them. Before We Lie Down in Darkness is a beautiful, timeless voyage andhas often eased me from insomniac anxiety to sleep in the last few months.

King Vision Ultra – Shook World (hosted by Algiers)

Using musical stems from Algiers’ Shook, found sound and collaborations with artists including ELUCID, Matana Roberts, DJ Haram, Dis Fig and Bigg Jus, King Vision Ultra’s self-styled mixtape is a companion piece and conversation with its source rather than a remix. A shifting sound collage that explores and interrogates race, class, gentrification, violence, love and community, Shook World digs into the core of New York City. Recordings of subway announcements, overheard conversations and confrontations lend a bracing realism and more than once Shook World has merged with the noise and incident of daily trips on the 1 train. A brilliant, often disorientating and abrasive sound portrait of NYC from some of its most interesting musicians.

Kofi Flexxx – Flowers in the Dark (Native Rebel)

Native Rebel founder Shabaka Hutchings has been in the vanguard of the English jazz scene with his bands Sons of Kemet, Shabaka & The Ancestors and The Comet Is Coming and as a cross-genre collaborator with artists on three continents. Posited as a “creative principle” rather than a band, Kofi Flexxx, Hutchings acts as guide and producer. Flowers in the Dark is anchored by pianist Alex Hawkins, flautist Ross Harris and a dynamite rhythm section of bassist Daisy George and drummer Jas Kayser. Backing guest vocalists including rappers billy woods and ELUCID, singers Siyabonga Mthembu from South Africa and Tamil born Ganavye and poet Anthony Joseph on album highlight “By Now (Accused of Magic)”, the quartet provide a fulcrum that draws together the strands of black music into sinuous unity. The instrumental tracks are equally good. “It Was All a Dream” has the rhythmic power of Sons Of Kemet with Hawkins’ percussive piano and George’s bass bounding along ahead of a wall of horns and Harris flying above them while managing to find a gritty rasp the bottom end of the flute. “Fire” is a bluesy spiritual jazz with George and Harris both prominent. An album that exemplifies Hutchings’ holistic approach to music.

Seablite – Lemon Lights (Mt St Mtn)

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San Francisco band Seablite’s second album Lemon Lights delves deeper into their love for 1990s English sounds. The quartet of vocalist/guitarist Lauren Matsui, vocalist/bassist Galine Tumasyan (bass), guitarist Jen Mundy and drummer Andy Pastalaniec channel the lush end of 1990s British indie. Ride guitarist Mark Gardener mastered Lemon Lights and the result is an album of shoegaze adjacent songs which incorporate the jangling sound of Seablite’s Bay Area contemporaries. It’s a deeply satisfying combination elevated by vocal harmonies, serpentine bass lines and Pastalaniec’s driving percussion. Lead single “Melancholy Molly” has the rollicking rhythm of Ride’s “Leave Them All Behind” overlaid with Matsui and Tumasyan’s lush harmonies and the twin guitars sparking from the mix. The sound is dense but melodic, allowing the guitars to chime and shimmer than rather fuzz and the melancholic edge to tracks like “Pot of Boiling Water” and the dreamy closer “Orbiting My Sleep” make Lemon Lights resonate.

Sinaïve – Répétition (Antimatière)

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When Sinaïve released Répétition in April, I had a cursory listen, filed it away and promptly forgot about it for several weeks. My mistake. On second listen, their combination of Gallic cool, psychedelic pyrotechnics, VU drone and the distant echoes of Ye-Ye and the French underground was irresistible. The Strasbourg trio - Calvin Keller on vocals/guitar/keys, Alicia Lovich drums /vocals/organ and bassist Alaoui O - make a wholly satisfying racket. On the 11 plus minutes of “Citadelle/Bis Repetita”, Sinaïve ride Lovich’s robotic rockabilly beat and Alaoui’s throbbing bass though a suite that sounds among other things like “Ghost Rider”, “Sister Ray” and Love at their wiggiest before Keller’s freight train riffs entangle themselves as if on a lock groove. It’s a terrific piece of sonic détournement. “Les Diaboliques” finds Keller crooning over a squalling guitar and molasses bass line before guest singer Raphaëlle Albane enters, an earthbound angel amidst the feedback. Albane appears again on “Cela ne Fait que Commencer” to close the album duetting with Keller over a quiet pulsing beat, organ and strummed guitar.

99Letters – Makafushigi (Disciples)

Osaka producer Takahiro Kinoshita’s Makafushigi (Mystery Tape)is built on samples of the instruments and vocal styles used in Japanese Imperial Court music. As 99Letters, Kinoshita fuses these ancient sounds with modern electronic music in ways that are as malevolent as the demons of mythology and as sinister as the organized crime and ultranationalism in contemporary Japan. The tracks on Makafushigi are washed in a seamy mix of grit and clamor, a grim, grimy world of back alleys, dingy bars and low-tech manufacturing. On discovering this I went on to a deep dive into 99Letters’ back catalogue and emerged when Kinoshita put out his most recent album Zigoku on Phantom Limb in November. He is the artist I’ve been most thrilled to discover this year.

The Others:

Algiers – Shook (Matador

Armand Hammer – We Buy Diabetic Test Strips (Fat Possum)

jaimie branch – Fly or Die Fly or Die Fly or Die ((world war)) (International Anthem)

John Coltrane with Eric Dolphy – Evenings At the Village Gate (Impulse)

Comet Gain – The Misfit Jukebox (Tapete)

The Drin – Today My Friend You Drunk The Venom (Drunken Sailor)

Euglossine – Bug Planet is the Current Timeline (Hausu Mountain)

Asher Gamedze – Turbulence and Pulse (international Anthem)

Gods Gift – Turn All the Lights Out (Play Loud!)

Laurel Halo – Atlas (Awe)

The Reverend Michael Kristen Hayter – SAVED! (Perpetual Flame Ministries)

Irreversible Entanglements – Protect Your Light (Impulse)

Life Strike – Peak Dystopia (Bobo Integral)

Kevin Richard Martin – Black (Intercranial)

OXBOW – Love’s Holiday (Ipecac)

Purelink – Signs (Peak Oil)

Quicksails – Surface (Hausu Mountain)

Rainy Miller x Space Africa – A Grissaille Wedding (Fixed Abode)

Speaker Music – Techxodus (Planet Mu)

Strategy – Graffiti in Space (Constellation Tatsu)

The Tubs – Dead Meat (Trouble In Mind)

billy woods & Kenny Segal – Maps (Backwoodz Studioz)

99Letters – Zigoku (Phantom Limb)

#dusted magazine #yearend 2023 #andrew forell #robert forster #the feelies #iceboy violet #the inward circles #king vision ultra #kofi flexxx #seablite #Sinaïve #99letters

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