#he’s about 15% scar tissue by now i can’t not include him

[oaxleaf]

love myself a cockroach of a character. i look at them and go ”how is that fucker not dead? they should be dead. they should be dead ten times over. how are they not?” and 90% of the time the answer is a combo of sheer stubborness and homosexuality

[ssa-emilyhotchner]

14x10 ~

First, I'm going to start by saying that I'm beginning to really enjoy the last few seasons. Apparently, they are filled with subtle Hotchniss, so I guess I'll have to actually start watching s12-15🤭Btw, I have to give a special shout-out to @hotchnisscardigan​ who told me about the existence of this! 🥰🥰

The episode revolves around an old case that most of the team worked on in the past. The Milwaukee case. Sounds familiar? That's because is one of the most iconic Hotchniss episodes.

14x10 was a walk down memory lane. Not only because of the case they worked on, but because we started seeing Emily reconciling with the decisions she made in her past. It's obvious that the writers not only wanted to focus on the evolution this case had over the years, but on how Emily was handling her own demons from her past. What's really interesting is why they decided to choose this specific case for this specific episode. They used such an emblematic Hotchniss episode to include Emily's doubt about dating Andrew Mendoza? Coincidence? I don't think so. 

JJ mentioned this during the episode, and she was definitely not wrong: 

This conversation between Emily and Andrew gives me an incredible amount of deja vu. It kind of reminds me of 5x02, how concerned she was for Hotch. And how she wasn't sure it was such a great idea for him to return back to work. 

What really gets me is when Andrew says “what's one more scar“. I truly believe the CM crew wrote this on purpose, to somehow create a hidden reference about Hotch. With Foyet and his 9 stab wounds, all the issues later on regarding his internal bleeding because of the scar tissue. It just completely makes sense to me. 

I was completely in awe when she couldn't remember that case. How is she going to forget that moment? When it was such a decisive one for her? She almost sacrificed her career in the FBI trying to save his. It just doesn't make any sense to me that she'd forget an important moment like that. Unless she chose to forget, for her own sake. Which would make sense, after hearing all her love quotes/phrases from these last seasons. She was definitely still in love with Hotch, but trying her hardest to move on. 

Even JJ couldn't believe that she didn't remembered. Just look at her exasperated face haha.

We've seen before that in these last few seasons, every time someone mentions Hotch's name, Emily does an unusual face expression. It feels almost involuntary. And this time was no exception. It's like all her memories about Hotch were coming back to her. 

In this scene, the team is talking about the kid (who turned out to be the unsub), but somehow, part of me feels that she was remembering Hotch, just by looking at that painful expression she made. The way she couldn't even finish the sentence, makes this scene even more powerful. Emily wished she had kept in touch with Hotch after the whole Peter Lewis incident, but she knew that it was for the best that she didn't. A few weeks later after this, she starts talking about parallel universes and to me is just her simple way of saying that maybe in another life or in another time, they could've ended up together, but unfortunately there was always something that pushed them apart (Doyle, her resign from the FBI at the end of s7, Peter Lewis).

Also, Emily makes the same face expression as the one she has at the end of 13x01, when JJ asks her if Hotch was coming back. She looks down, to the side, anywhere that doesn't include making eye contact. It's as if she knew that her eyes could give her away. That right there, turned out to be her real tell. 

Was she channeling Hotch? Didn't I just made a post a few days ago about how the binoculars where Hotch's favorite gadget? I think is the first time I've seen her using them in 14 seasons.

This moment right here, has a deeper and more significant meaning than what she lets on. The first time I saw this scene, it reminded me of the whole Doyle arc. Especially when she says: “It is more about remembering what I was intended to do, and reconciling with what I had to do“. If she had confided in the team, but especially in Hotch, things would certainly have turned out differently, and that's a thing she has to live with forever: the uncertainty of not knowing what would've happened and how much her life would've changed, if she had trusted her team during that moment. If she had trusted her instincts. If she had trusted Hotch💔

And that's what haunts her, how different her live would be right now if she had trusted her instincts. 

But, would she have been able to save him? To save Hotch? “I might have changed things for him” I truly believe she's talking about how if she had stayed, if she had done things differently with Doyle, if she had trusted her team instead of running away to protect them, she would've been able to continue helping him like she did after Haley died (which we know was the obvious reason for his speedy recovery). They would have had the relationship we know they both wanted, and maybe he wouldn't have had to face Mr. Scratch alone. Maybe not even face him at all. 

That's what she's really afraid of, why she can't move on. The endless possibilities, the what ifs.

This last scene with Andrew SCREAMS Hotchniss to me. Those scars Emily's referring to? She's obviously talking about Hotch. I'm going to sound cliche but hear me out. How was she expected to move on when she practically had to live with a ghost? Hotch's presence was felt everywhere she went. Her new office, the round table room, the jet. As I've mentioned before, their relationship was much more deeper than both of them would ever like to admit. And of course, that would result in her scars taking a lot longer to heal. 

I think that what affected her the most was Hotch's decision not to return to the BAU. It was something she was clearly never expecting. Not after everything they've been through.

Before this scene, she says something about not being sure dating in this line of work was the right thing for her. She was just fine with Mark during s11, wasn't she? So what event could've happened to her during s12-14 that drastically changed her perspective? I'm putting all my money in Hotch and her disappointment when learning he wasn't returning. 

[miaouerie]

whumptober 2020 ------ day 31. left for dead

@whumptober2020​  Rebelcaptain Hunger Games AU: Cassian is Jyn’s mentor in the 70th Hunger Games. After being crowned victor at fifteen years old, Cassian is all-too-familiar with what it takes to bring a tribute home, and what becoming a victor really means.

content warnings: implied/referenced torture, mentions of attempted suicide, referenced brainwashing/conditioning, nonconsensual body modification, references to forced prostitution, references to forced drug use, unhappy/ambiguous ending

A/N: if downer endings aren’t quite your thing, I’ve written an alternate ending here, as well as additional author’s notes in a coda here. this is my first completed multichapter and thank you to everyone who has kept up with this story! any additional fics in this verse will be posted to my ao3.

previous: day 1 / 2  / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 / 14 / 15  / 16  / 17 / 18 / 19 / 20 / 21 / 22 / 23 / 24 / 25 / 26 / 27 / 28 / 29 / 30 / → read on AO3

When Draven gets the call to escort Cassian from the Remake Center back to their district floor in the Tributes’ Tower and stand by for a forthcoming itinerary, he doesn’t need to see his charge to know that something fundamentally wrong has happened.

The last time his schedule began with picking up Cassian from the Remake Center was that period of time after his father died, which Draven now knows the truth about. But at the time he had been told that after Jeron Andor and Irga Torres were killed in a power plant explosion that a seditioner was blamed for, Cassian tried to kill himself out of grief. After two weeks in the Capitol of being monitored in extensive in-patient therapy, he was turned over to Draven to be ushered through the media press tour for his father’s death.

How Cassian behaved back then is eerily similar to how he presently is in Draven’s custody. He’s sitting in the backseat and relaxed against the headrest, but Draven has known Cassian long enough that the lines of stress pinning him in place are plain to see. His hands folded, in his lap. Facing forward, staring ahead at nothing. A tic in his jaw, barely perceptible but one that Draven catches all the same.

But what disturbs Draven are his eyes. Unlike that first time Draven picked him up from the Remake Center, they aren’t pained or filled with misery. They’re empty, in an unrecognizable way that Draven has never seen in him before.

After furtively investigating the intendance records kept of his charge for the past four years, Draven knows what really happens when Cassian is brought to the Capitol for ‘extensive in-patient therapy’. But for a brief moment he feels something revoltingly similar to gratitude that Cassian’s conditioning is strict about needless eye contact.

-

Next morning’s briefing packet sent to his datapad has a subfolder tagged with “SENSITIVE INFORMATION: DO NOT DISCLOSE,” to be unlocked with a retinal scan. It’s a copy of Jyn Erso’s medical record and an image of a bedside chart; last night she was transported from District 5 to an elite hospital in the Capitol for treatment of a stubborn respiratory illness.

Draven knew better than to ask questions—those who did had their tongues cut out and turned into Avoxes—but he quietly looks into the matter himself while performing his job’s duties for Cassian, whose schedule is booking up like it did during the Games. Taking every precaution available to avoid detection prolongs the search, but eventually he is able to determine that Jyn’s condition is a lie. That there is no proof that Jyn is even in the Capitol.

And then, he realizes, they must not know where she is at all.

-

Cassian’s body language used to telegraph his condition after an appointment but he doesn’t seem capable of it anymore. Nowadays, no matter how badly he’s been abused by a client, the posture he affects in the car is always the same: his hands folded, in his lap. Facing forward, staring ahead at nothing. A tic in his jaw, barely perceptible.

Whatever they had Cassian relearn in therapy included perfecting his talents as an obedient whore, so he’s not often returned in a state of intoxication as he once had to be. But it’s during those increasingly rare times—and only those times—that his tongue is loosened enough to let slip some of the perpetual torment he has to live with as punishment, because of Jyn Erso’s disappearance.

It’s one such night that Draven picks up Cassian at 03:01. After the car pulls away from the curb Cassian is still for a moment, before he heaves out a shuddery breath and his arms slump to his sides.

“Did you know they made it so I can’t say her name anymore?”

The words and their meaning take a moment to register with Draven. Then he says, “What?”

“No… I don’t think they would have told you. But I mean, her. My tribute. The one I saved.”

He can only be talking about Jyn Erso. Draven doesn’t say anything but he doesn’t have to; tonight, Cassian is giving voice to another painful truth.

“They asked me questions about her, had me read sentences aloud… made me give responses with her name in it. And they would hurt me, every single time I said it, so I can’t say it. Not without pain. Not anymore.”

His raspy confession is made to the silence. “Her name was like a prayer to me. Snow must have noticed, so he took it away.” A broken chuckle. “I didn’t think something like that was possible. But, they made me learn.”

Draven doesn’t know if he should be hearing this. But when he turns to give his full attention to his charge it’s like a switch is flipped. When their eyes meet Cassian’s eyes widen before he bolts himself back into place—hands back in his lap and looking straight forward.

The only thing betraying his vulnerability are the tears in his eyes.

-

It should not surprise Draven that Cassian tries to kill himself not long after that lapse in conduct, but it still does. At least, it’s a surprise in the sense that finding out a peer of two decades attempted suicide will always come as a surprise.

The Peacekeepers come when Draven is in the sitting room, waiting for Cassian to finish showering before Kay and his prep team arrive. One moment there’s the ding of the elevator arriving on their floor and in the next, six Peacekeepers are storming in.

Draven knows better than to demand answers in the heat of the moment so he stays out of their way, listens to the sound of the bathroom door breaking and boots stomping over shattered glass, listens to the sound of Cassian’s—frankly animalistic—screams as he’s subdued, and stays out of the way once again when they drag him out naked and wet and dripping blood from his arms and neck. They stand him there until a Peacekeeper returns from the bathroom with a dark fluffy green bathrobe for his modesty, and then he’s taken away.

When they make fleeting eye contact Draven is struck by the scathing accusation in his charge’s eyes. He wasn’t the one who called for the Peacekeepers but Cassian doesn’t know that, and Draven knows what it looks like. But there’s nothing he can say to Cassian in any case, nothing that can change the outcome of whatever has been decided to change next about him.  

-

Draven is scheduled to pick up Cassian from the Remake Center two weeks later. He has to walk into the lobby because the lead cognitive remake specialist has requested to talk to him, to show and demonstrate Cassian’s new implant.

It’s a very thin line of a scar on the back of Cassian’s neck, invisible to the naked eye but Draven can feel it when he brushes his fingers over the skin; beneath is a subdermal neuro-electrical node, grafted onto the nerves there. The specialist explains that when activated, it prevents Cassian from making sudden or any ��suspiciously motivated’ movements. The remote that they give to Draven is for disabling it. Later on, Draven is assigned the responsibility of disabling its function for Cassian’s appointments as well as reenabling it after each one in turn.

Neither says a word as they get into the waiting car. They don’t speak for the whole car ride back, either. But more than once Draven sees Cassian’s hand creep to the back of his neck; his fingers slowly brush the scar tissue, before his hand is carefully guided back to his lap.

-

It proves very challenging to track where Cassian had been taken after his suicide attempt; Draven is always diligent about maintaining stealth when conducting these probes, but the seriousness of the situation called for significant preventive precautions to be taken. But once he succeeded…

…Then what?

He was able to determine that Cassian was taken to the same complex—in truth, one of several privately held black site facilities—for another two weeks of ‘in-patient therapy’ before he was transferred to the Remake Center. His process uncovered an entire network of similar private corporations and entities that operated under the purview of the government, all funded by the Hunger Games division for one apparent purpose: the victors’ covert diversion program.

But this devastative information only came about as a consequence from his attempts to satisfy an aberrant concern for Cassian’s whereabouts; Draven wasn’t planning on actively doing anything with it. Even the thought alone is treasonous: believing that victors deserved anything less than the hell that came pursuant on winning the Games was just a step below believing that the districts of Panem deserved anything more than the destitution and squalor left to them after the Dark Days. The victors’ diversion program was devised and implemented to prevent victors from believing that winning the Games meant anything other than being punished for it. Repeatedly. Because even if a new victor is crowned every year, the real winner of the Hunger Games will always remain the Capitol.

This is what Draven has always known. But then… there was Cassian.

He had come to know the boy at six years old, the first year Draven received the assignment to escort not only Irga and Jeron to the town plaza for District 5′s reaping, but the latter’s wife and son as well. Only one of the two living District 5 victors had a family, and now that Cassian was old enough to understand how to behave the Games producers wanted reaction shots of Jeron’s wife and child.

Their acquaintance proceeded as such—twice a year Draven saw the Andor boy, first at the reaping and again when escorting Jeron and Irga home after the closing ceremonies. Though he chose not to indulge in the sentiment, seeing Cassian grow up through the years in such a manner often left Draven with a feeling similar to how he felt after visiting with once-a-year relatives during Wintermas.

After Cassian was reaped and won his Games, Draven’s duties as District 5’s escort were officially recategorized with Cassian as his primary charge, relegating Jeron and Irga to second priority; if they needed to be chaperoned somewhere while he was with Cassian, there was express authorization to send a number of Peacekeepers to complete the task. But for the purpose that President Snow intended to use Cassian for, only a Games escort with discretionary expertise could do.

Draven’s choice of career tended to attract a lot of airheads and grifters, those who relished in schmoozing up sponsors or otherwise gunning for a glimpse of the glory and glamor awarded to a winning victor’s support team. But Draven derived his dedication to the job solely from esteem in his own competence; perhaps that was why the president believed his silence on Cassian being groomed and Jeron remaining unaware of it was guaranteed.

Did the president, in all of his scheming, ever consider the possibility of Draven going rogue? But even if he did tell Jeron of what President Snow was doing to his son it wouldn’t have changed the outcome; Cassian’s placement into a mentoring position could only be accomplished by leaving District 5’s mentorship short of a victor. Plus, he would have had his tongue cut out and turned into an Avox if Snow found out; if Peacekeepers were dispatched to interrupt Cassian’s suicide attempt quickly enough to thwart it, his treachery would have inevitably been discovered.

And where would that leave Cassian?

Another escort would be assigned, one who didn’t mind enabling Cassian after an assignment when he comes back horny and drunk or high, or in the mood for taking out his self-loathing on the only person available. Those moments of weakness never failed to stun Draven with their impact—they were cruel reminders of the fact that he is the only person in the Capitol who sees what became of a tormented boy, now constrained to his life as a tormented prisoner.

But Cassian’s new conditioning doesn’t seem to allow for any moments of weakness. Or rather, the implant doesn’t. His movements are mechanized and deliberate, calculated to avoid triggering the parameters for a shock, yet fluid enough that evidently he was put through his paces by his captors. Until he was well-trained, and conditioned, and became devoid of any expression at all.

Suffice to say, they don’t talk anymore. What is there left to say? Nothing, not until Draven receives an update on Jyn Erso’s health status. Then a personal summons to President Snow’s office.

-

The president and a trio of his advisors are waiting for Draven. The situation with District 5’s new victor has turned  critical; even with the Capitol’s elite medical advancements, Jyn is not responding well to treatment.

Draven knows it’s all lies but he agrees along with their assessment. Jyn’s untimely death before the Victory Tour may be unavoidable, and the Capitol needs to control the story behind the cause to control the public’s reaction to her death. Her condition has been kept secret in anticipation of this very situation; several contingency plans to stage been drawn up, each optimized to account for potential blowback between the Capitol and the districts.

While each plan is pitched to weather Snow’s criticism, Draven doesn’t let any confusion or concern cross his face. Not when the president’s snakelike eyes are on his every time Draven chances a glance. He knows Snow is observing his reaction to this authoritarian show of might—whatever choice is made here will have a ripple effect throughout all of Panem, going much further than the conflict between President Snow and the victors of District 5. Expectably, Draven isn’t asked for any input, but he knows that’s not what he’s been called here for.

After the advisors are dismissed Draven stands alone, a respectable distance away in front of Snow sitting at his desk; the president watches him awhile before he speaks. “So, Davits. You understand how imperative it is that we control the narrative, not just here within the Capitol but in the rest of Panem.”

“Of course, Mister President.”

“I’m sure, then, you understand the necessity of what was done to Cassian.” Snow gets up from behind his desk, circling around to lean against the dark mahogany facade with his arms crossed. His stance is still threatening despite its casual assertion; Draven almost takes a step back but he remains standing where he is.

“Jeron Andor mistakenly believed that he had enough power to take matters into his own hands; it can be only him who passed along the concept to young Cassian. One would think that his father’s fate taught him that attempting to do so can only end in tragedy. And yes,” he says in answer to the sudden clench of fear in Draven’s chest, “I’ve been made aware of your interloping efforts regarding Jeron and Miss Torres’ deaths. I concede that it was not a deception that accounted for close scrutiny. Rest assured that when your inquests were discovered, the advisor and those responsible for implementing the proposal were swiftly executed.”  

The president continues, “I will not question your motives for investigating the matter. I am not commending your capabilities in doing so, either. But understand this: there is nothing for you to do here except your assigned function as District 5’s escort. Nothing less, and nothing more. An unfathomably simple request, yet if only Cassian had performed his role in the same capacity his implant would not have been deemed necessary. Undoubtedly you agree that rebellious actions such as his merit consequences tailored to their severity.”

Draven’s throat is dry but his voice remains steady. “Indeed, sir.”

Snow straightens himself upright. They’re both tall people but he does have an inch on Draven in height, and his next words are spoken in a voice both paternalistic and contemptuous. “No further harm has to befall the boy, but it will be your future discretion which will determine that. Now, have I made your situation clear?”

-

Snow doesn’t know the entirety of what Draven knows about the victor diversion program then. Yet. It may only be a matter of time before Peacekeepers are at his door. They wouldn’t kidnap him for ‘extensive in-patient therapy’, not when a bullet to the head would be quicker, cleaner, and most effectively ensure his silence.

There’s only one road for him to take now; he can no longer abide by what the Capitol is allowed to demand from Cassian, not when they claw for everything within reach to cement his enslavement.

Where will his charge be a year from now, or three? What else can they take from him?

How did Jeron live through nineteen years of this feeling?

It should feel daunting; the thought only registers later that night after Cassian is dropped off at the Tower and Draven is heading home. That finding a way to save Cassian will take everything he’s got, in order to go against everything he’s ever known. But Draven did not get this far in his life by second-guessing his choices, and he has never been so sure of one thing.

The next certainty is this: he’s got to find Jyn Erso.

[copias-thrall]

DIY

(Part: 1; 2; 3; 4; 5; 6; 7; 8)

It’s been a trying day. The staffing agency had gotten you another contract, and the firm wanted to meet with you in person for some reason. Usually you’re just traded around with firms already familiar with you, and you can’t recall the last time you needed to be respectable. You tend to dye your hair when your mood changes, so the fading pink had needed to be taken care of.

“What do you care about their opinion?” Mary had said.

“This would be a little more money,” you’d shrugged. “I could get the good coffee and that mochi you like.”

“I can feed myself,” Mary had snapped.

“Then why don’t you?” you’d retorted.

He’d made a sour face at you when you’d said that.

In the end, Mary had suggested going black, and the two of you had had hair-dye day where you’d introduced Mary to the wonder of Vaseline to keep the dye off his skin.

“Look at you, making me all respectable,” he’d quipped as you’d slathered him up.

“Yes, heaven forbid you lose your coveted street cred because your ears and hairline aren’t mottled with black half the time.”

While most of the dye had ended up in your hair, a few errant blotches ended up staining the tiles and shower curtain (and, ok—the hand print on your upper arm when Mary forgot himself). Mary had called you a spoilsport when you’d refused to fuck in the shower (“What? It’s cool with all the black dye running down our bodies. Come on!”). But in the end you were rather happy with how the fresh dye made your pixie bob look sleek and polished. 

Mary had scrutinized you in the mirror.

“I don’t like it. Makes you look like you’re trying too hard to be normal.”

You’d made a face at him. “Well, we can’t all work at Mickey’s and dress like Oscar the Grouch kicked us out of bed for eating crackers.”

Mary’d lightly bitten your neck. “I’m taking that as a compliment.” He’d then run his fingers through the shorter hair at the back of your head. “You’d look pretty hot with an undercut.”

“I know,” you’d said as you’d winked at him.

He’d snorted. “Modest too.”

You’d shrugged. “Getting an undercut was one of my many tiny actions of rebellion. As long as I kept my hair down, no one was the wiser.”

“They never caught you?” 

You’d sighed. “They did. Bitch of thing too—a picture of the school pep rally in the monthly newsletter for parents happened to catch me in the background.”

“Shit. What happened?”

“After all the screaming about boundaries and disrespect? TThey’d shaved my whole head.”

Mary’d stilled behind you.

“They … what?”

You’d leaned into the mirror, primping your hair unnecessarily.

“Buzzed all my hair off. Said I should never do things by half measures.”

Mary’d given you a look in the mirror, so you’d just smiled brightly at him.

“It’s just hair, Mary. Beside, all my schoolmates thought I was edgy as fuck.”

He’d turned you to face him.

“I really fucking hate your parents.”

You’d just patted him on the cheek. “Why waste the energy.”

“It’s just …” he’d leaned against the washer/drier as you began to clean up. “I had to be like, 15? And I came home from a friend’s house with badly bleached hair and a safety pin through my navel. My mum was in the kitchen, and I told her I wanted to be called Viscount Doom from now on. You know what she said?” 

(It was a rhetorical question.)

“She said, ‘That’s nice, dear—now take out the trash’.” He’d chuckled. “I was always her son first, you know?”

You’d slid a hand under his shirt to stick your thumb in his unadorned belly button.

“Did she make you take the safety pin out.”

Mary’d grinned at you. “Ah, well. The fucker got infected. Angry red blotches with pus and shit. I had to come clean to mum, and she bundled me off to urgent care. Whoops.”

You’d traced your thumb along his belly button, feeling now the obvious bump of scar tissue.

“So you were always fucking crusty.”

“Yeah, maybe,” he’d said as he’d crowded into you and dragged your hand down to his crotch.

The actual "chat” (they’d purposefully pussyfooted around calling it an interview) had gone fine; a girl about your age—probably an intern—had read a bunch of inane questions off a piece of paper in a monotone before a harried-looking woman came in and asked you questions surely your resume could have answered.

The firm itself, however, was a 30min walk from the bus, and about 90 more minutes including a bus transfer away from your apartment. You’d gotten up at 5am so you could leave by 6 so you weren’t late for your 9am appointment (“Jesus. Who schedules interviews for the crack of dawn?” “Sadists, that’s who.”). So, of course, you’d gotten there an hour early and—with no coffee shop in sight—you’d sat on a concrete wall across the street that bordered a parking lot. 

Like a creep.

You’d then been asked to wait for another hour because “an earlier meeting was running late.” The receptionist had at least taken pity on you and brought you a steaming cup of Dunks and a chocolate doughnut.

It was noon by the time you made it out of there—which meant that there was no way you were making the 12:25pm bus. Which meant you didn’t make the 1:33pm transfer, and you had to cool your jets in a fast casual restaurant for 45min. The next bus had never shown. When you finally made it onto the transfer bus, you’d dozed off and had woken up several stops past your destination; you’d opted to just walk back to your apartment instead of waiting the questionable amount of time for the next bus in the opposite direction. 

By the time you finally get back to your place, you’re limping from the blisters your cheap dress shoes had given you, and it’s nearly 4pm. When you enter your apartment, you’re surprised to see Mary on your couch, guitar in hand and scribbling down notes. At the clink of you dropping your keys into the skull ashtray that had just appeared one day, he looks up.

“What are you doing here?” you ask, sounding much more harsh than you intended as you kick off your shoes.

“Well, hello to you too. I couldn’t hear myself think at my place.” He gives you a minute shrug.

You don’t know why this irritates you.

“Well maybe think about giving me the same courtesy,” you snap as you limp toward your bedroom. “I need to lie down.”

You don’t even get changed, just untuck your pussy-bow blouse and unzip your pencil skirt before flopping down onto your bed.

“Interview not go well?” asks Mary’s from your doorframe

You wave your hand. “The interview was fine, but it was a fucking trial and a half getting there and back. Thank god I won’t be onsite.”

“Yeah. I was kind of wondering where you were.”

You just snort and start to wrestle off your nude hose, but then Mary’s kneeling there and rolling them down you. You hiss when he gets to your feet.

“Fuck, your feet are wrecked.”

“Remind me to bring flip flops or something next time.”

“K.”

He tosses your pantyhose at your laundry basket (they only half make it in), then he leans down to kiss the instep on each foot.

“Do you want me to eat you out?” he asks as his hands travel up the inside of your legs.

You lean up to look at him. “Yeah, actually. Would you?”

Mary grins at you. “Ok, baby doll.”

You lie back down as Mary begins to kiss and nip up your legs. You help him to get your panties off and to push up your skirt—then he’s diving into your folds, his tongue enthusiastically lapping at your clit. Unfortunately, you’re just too exhausted to really get into it, and Mary notices your lack of engagement. His head pops up.

“Fingers?”

“Fingers,” you agree.

He wipes off his chin with the back of his hand before climbing onto your bed. You shimmy out of your skirt before he’s rolling you onto your side. He positions himself behind you, his hand sliding down your stomach until it reaches your lips. You arch back into him at the feeling of his finger slip sliding across your sensitive clit.

“Oh yeah, Mare …”

He doesn’t tease you, just keeps up a steady motion, changing it up to avoid touch numbness. Despite your lethargy, you pant and squirm against him as your blood pools and your orgasm slowly builds. He’s been giving your neck little nips and sucks, but as you get close to blowing, Mary leans over to engage you in a wet, sloppy kiss. It ratchets your arousal, and you suck his tongue into your mouth, saliva leaking out the other side, as you begin to press back against his hand. He quickens his finger, and you cry out at the burst of pleasure. Your orgasm swells and breaks soon after, and you moan and thrash a little as Mary works you through the waves.

When you sag, sated, he gives your ear a lick, then removes his hand.

“Mmm,” is all you manage as you roll onto your stomach.

“Yeah, I know. C’mon, let’s get you out of that top.”

“No,” you say into the bed.

“Yes,” he says as he starts to tug up the hem. “You’ll thank me later.”

You just grunt at him.

He manages to get the material up to your armpits before you’re obliged to move by lifting your arms—and even then all you do is hold out your arms.

“You’re a pain in my fucking ass.”

“Mmphb.”

Through minimal effort on your part, Mary finally removes both your top and your bra before rolling you this way and that to get you under the covers. You’re asleep before he even leaves the room.

You sleep, nude, sprawled out and face mashed into your pillow. It isn’t until much later when you wake. It’s almost certainly because Mary is on all fours over you, mashing his face into your neck. You must move in some tiny way, because he stills.

“Mare,” you mumble groggily into the pillow.

“Shh,” he breaths. “Don’t. Just …” His mouth moves to your ear. “Can I?” he whispers. “I was so good earlier.”

“Mhm,” you agree sleepily.

“Stay still then,” he growls as he shifts about. “Don’t. Move.”

You feel the head of his cock enter you, and you clench and moan. Mary’s other hand is quick on your head, smashing your face further into the pillow.

“Shut up,” he hisses, then his hand is gone.

He takes the tip out, then slides it back in. 

Then out. 

Then in.

He teases himself like that a few more times—making pleased rumbles—before finally sliding all the way home. You bite the pillow in an effort not to twitch or make noise. The bed jostles when his balled hands land on either side of you, supporting himself up. He takes a handful of slow, smooth pumps in and out of you, making little Mmm noises. It’s a nice feeling that you relax into—silently. 

He speeds up a little … and then a lot … until he’s pounding into you with such force that there's an audible slap! slap! slap! as he makes contact with your skin and your one arm is jostled slightly off the bed. Mary moans, and changes up to long, hard strokes that hit your sweet spot deliciously; you know your breaths are labored at the strain of staying motionless and quiet, but luckily, any sound you’re making is being drowned out by Mary’s grunts every time the bowl of his pelvis smacks into the meat of your ass. 

You’re pretty slick from your arousal, and Mary easily pumps in and out of you. You can feel your heartbeat in your pussy—and your frustration with not being able to touch yourself increases. Mary suddenly grabs the fat on your back hard enough you almost cry out. He lowers himself down onto his forearms and starts to fuck into you with quicker, deeper thrusts that are no longer quite hitting your G-spot—much to your chagrin. He’s not quite laying on your back, but he’s close enough that you can hear the rasping air through his nose and the Uhn noises he’s making—his breath hot and moist on the nape of your neck.

You expect him to finish like that, so you’re surprised when he heaves himself up to a kneeling position. His hands grip your hips hard, and then he’s yanking you back onto his dick as he buries himself deep into you. 

And again. 

And again. 

When he accidentally hits your cervix, you do let out a little mewl, but he doesn’t seem to notice—cock still deep in you and his hands still clamped on your sides. After a moment, you finally feel the tension drain out of him, and he releases his grip, flopping down on the bed beside you. Sluggishly you begin to move your limbs, but Mary gathers you up to him with a soft C’mere. He presses his sweat-cool body against your back and kisses your neck once before he’s maneuvering your vibrator (oh, hello) between your legs.

You reach your hand down to help position it to your liking, mashing into it once … twice … thrice, and then you’re moaning and twitching—the nails of your free hand digging into Mary’s thigh—before the intensity has you finally shying away from the toy lest you make a mess.

Mary clicks the vibe off before letting it go, and you twist around until you’re facing him. You grip his hair in your hands and kiss him deeply, smashing your slickness into him as your cunt still gives an errant spasm or two. He grabs your ass and pulls you into him.

“Yeah, mash that wet pussy into me—I want to smell you on me all night.”

“You’re disgusting.”

“You fucking love it.”

“I should pee on you.”

“Do you think I’ve never been pe—”

You shove a pillow in his face. “OH MY GOD—do not finish that sentence.”

His hand shoots out and presses on your bladder. You shriek and push him away from you, and he subsequently falls off the bed with an undignified noise. He looks up at you like a disgruntled cat, so you just cackle and sprint out of the bedroom. You can hear him start after you, but he’s not quick enough, and you manage to lock the bathroom door behind you before he can catch you.

You’re too tired to cook, and you’re wondering if you can count on getting that contract enough to order takeout when Mary surprises you; he takes out a beat up looking Tupperware from your fridge. Something reddish-brown sloshes in it.

“It’s my kitchen-sink goulash.” He beams.

You put a smile on your face.

“Aww, Mare. What’s … in it?” you ask as you squint at the contents.

He pokes you in the ribs. 

“Just fucking try it.”

You reheat it in a big pot, and it looks edible enough—elbow macaronis, ground meat, tomato sauce, green … things. Once you’re settled at your rusty cafe table with the hot food, you dig in and you have to admit that it’s actually not bad. Mary has a smug look on his face as you tuck in.

“Shut up,” you say.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Your thoughts are loud.”

He just giggles at you.

“So what is in it?”

“Uh,” says Mary as he chews. “Frozen hamburger patties, spaghetti sauce, noodles, and some okra from the Latin grocer near me.”

You make a thoughtful noise.

“I wouldn’t have guessed okra. I knew it wasn’t green beans, but.”

“I swear that store is the only reason none of us have scurvy.”

Afterwards he packs up his guitar.

“I gotta be getting back to my place.” He licks your nose, and you sputter. He grins. “But thanks for the sex.”

“Yeah, well …” you say as you rub at your nose, “thanks for the Goulash.”

He looks at you for a moment before slipping a hand into your robe to rest on a love handle.

“I didn’t come by just to hear myself think, you know.”

You roll your eyes, but step into his space.

“I kinda got that, Mare.”

You tap your lips, and he leans down to kiss you.

⬅️Previous | Next ➡️

[shockdowndefiance]

You've been visited by the random OC question fairy! :D ~☆

Pick five of your character's most influential milestones (moving away from home, a first kiss, a death, etc.). Why and how did these milestones affect your character?

Thank you for the question! Once again I am answering for Allison Shepard as she’s the only MC I really have fleshed out. I sat down to write out her most influential milestones and narrowed it down to the five I felt would be most interesting. In chronological order:

1. Finding out she was a latent biotic and suddenly developing biotic abilities at the age of sixteen 2. Meeting her first boyfriend, Finn

After she was expelled for punching and injuring another student, and moving to a different human colony, she enrolls in a new school and meets Finn on her first day there:

A teen boy slouched casually against the wall opposite the office, moving to stand up when Allison shut the door behind her. His dark hair flopped down into his bright blue eyes as he moved, his hand almost continually going up to move it out of the way.

"Finnegan Osmani. Call me Finn," he said once he was close enough, holding a hand out. Allison took it and gave a brief shake before she pulled back. "You're that new kid, right?"

"I am," Allison said, turning and looking around. "I hear you’re my chaperone."

Finn laughed. "That's one way of putting it. Hey, rumours going around; you are a biotic, right?"

"Sure am," Allison said, turning back to look at Finn with a cool glare. "You gonna make something of it?"

"Nope." Finn grinned. "My lil sis is a biotic, she'll love to meet you."

Allison smiled herself.

Maybe introductions weren't going to be so bad.

Outside of family everyone treated Aliison and her twin brother Elliot like a ticking time bomb. Finn was the first one to fully embrace who she was, biotics and all. This was in part because of his younger sister also being a biotic, so he had some knowledge of what being a biotic meant.

Walking in to that new school, she had put her hair up and left her amp fully visible - she didn’t care what anyone thought of her, whispered about her. Hating her for being a biotic was the same as hating her for having green eyes, and if it meant she rounded out high school as the ostracised creepy biotic whom no one talked to...well, she didn’t care.

And then Finnegan showed her that, no, not everyone was going to act like that. Some people would be accepting of who she was, biotics and all.

Again, this has gotten really long so the rest is under a cut!

3. Enlisting in the Alliance 4. Getting dumped by Finn 5. Defending Elysium from pirates and slavers 6. Being awarded the Star of Terra for her actions on Elysium

Allison didn’t do anything special on Elysium.She didn’t do anything more than any other marine would have done (and in fact some of them willingly laid down their lives so that others could be saved). Being hailed as the Hero of Elysium is an aggravating and unnecessary epithet, and doubly so when her status as a biotic soldier is emphasised.

(This does create positive associations with biotics so it’s at least something but, again, she’s an average biotic. Nothing special. Stop advertising it on recruitment posters so much.)

She receives the Star of Terra (among others: namely her officer commission, invitation to ICT school, and a special commendation) for her actions, but despite all the pomp and circumstance, unless she needs to wear it it stays hidden away in its box in storage.

It doesn’t help that she’s the daughter of Hannah Shepard, well-regarded veteran of the First Contact War. People expected a lot from Allison, and barely four years since enrolling in the Alliance, they had humanity’s newest hero on their hands. She brushes off most applauds about her status; they take it as her being modest, she intends it as a stop bothering me about it but she can’t not keep it.

(This does later cause a bit of friction between Allison and Ashley later, but that is 8-9 years later in the timeline.)

7. Being invited to participate in the Interplanetary Combatives Training course 8. The untimely death of her paternal grandfather In the late 22nd century, the average life expectancy for humans is around 120, with some individuals reaching 150 years old.

As such, Allison’s paternal grandfather dying in his early nineties was a shock to all. It occurs in the middle of Allison’s ICT learning, and as a result it delays her graduation by a year. Completing ICT can be done in a year, but Allison spread it out a little because she wanted to pace herself - being one of the first biotics invited into the program, she didn’t want to crash and burn (despite there being no shame in being able to complete the first rank, she personally would have hated having done so).

Her grandfather’s death causes her to step back and reevaluate things a little. She idolised her grandfather so much (I have an idea for an art piece when Allison was about eight years old, on the back porch of her grandfather’s house; Allison is pulling a face because she and her grandfather are eating liquorice; she despises it but her grandfather adores it, and because he adores it she reckons that she must also adore it) and losing him punches a hole in her career plans.

She stays in the Alliance (not much else for a biotic to do, and her family going back many generations has been military, so she doesn’t quite know what else to do) but she misses him for a long time. 9. Completing her Interplanetary Combatives Training course and being awarded N7 rank 10. Accidentally interfacing with the prothean beacon on Eden Prime and getting the first glimpse of the impending Reaper invasion 11. Becoming a Spectre, part of the Citadel's specops group 12. Rescuing both Kaidan and Ashley from the near-doom mission on Virmire 13. Allowing herself to fall in love with Kaidan This harkens back to Finn and him seeing her as a whole. For Allison, being in the Alliance and having a relationship doesn’t mesh - initially she’s working on her career, aiming to get her officer’s commission, then Elysium happens and people are more interested in her as Commander Shepard, Hero of Elysium than they are of Allison.

Kaidan’s different. Heck, all of the Normandy crew are different (barring those who knew her prior like Anderson and Adams) - while they respect her as their XO/CO, they don’t idolise her like other people she’s met. She can pull off heroic feats and achieve the near-impossible, but a large part of that is down to her crew and how they are all able to work together.

But Kaidan sees beyond rank, sees beyond medals, sees beyond her service history, and does indeed see Allison, the person. Admittedly at the point in time this occurs, Allison hasn’t seen how bad things can get, and she doesn’t know how much of a rock Kaidan will be to her, but to realise that he loves her, the entirety of her, and not the hero plastered across the recruitment vids, or the thin line between reverence and rejection biotics often get.

But they’re military, she’s his CO and he’s her HOMD. She’s gotten a lot of leniency running as a Spectre ship but she still answers to the Alliance. Fraternization is not allowed, and so they push their feelings to the back once the Citadel is saved and Saren and Sovereign are killed. Kaidan requests to be given a new posting, a space halfway across the galaxy, given a few months and then start an official, public relationship, and allow Allison a shot at a normal romantic relationship. 14. Dying and being ressurected 15. Finding out that the Collectors are protheans, enslaved and mutated by the Reapers 16. Leading a team through the Omega 4 relay, a place where no one had returned from, to destroy the collector base and returning victorious 17. Blowing up a mass relay in batarian space, killing over 300k batarians and being put under house arrest 18. Almost losing Kaidan after an ambush on Mars 19. Uniting the galaxy against the Reapers and delivering the killing blow, ending their message for ever 20. Waking up to a post-Reaper galaxy with both physical and mental injuries, and learning how to manage with those

Allison wakes up in a hospital bed for the second time in her life after a major battle and she almost cries. Let me rest, she thinks, fearing that Cerberus has gotten to her again and they’ve rebuilt her again to go rogue and save the galaxy again. Hasn’t she earned her rest?

Well, yes. She has.

She’s in a hospital in London, her mother at her bedside as medics struggle to sedate her, worried that Allison will injure herself more without it. Miranda, the one who rebuilt her after the Collector attack, is leading the team. Allison is officially awoken from the induced coma/sedation about a month later and told what happened.

She lost her lower left leg, replaced with a prosthesis in the short term and a tissue cloned leg in the long term. One arm was dislocated, the other broken; a scar now bisects her face from forehead to nose, before curving around her cheekbone to her ear.

The Normandy has disappeared, no one knows where her or her crew are, including Kaidan - whom she had married just hours before the final assault against the Reapers.

Allison gets a multitude of diagnoses - acute stress disorder, anxiety, depression, panic attacks. Physically she recovers without issue, though she considers the clone tissue leg a waste (I can manage just fine on a prosthesis thank you) when there are others around who could benefit from the resources used on her.

But she’s got one more epithet to add to her collection - saviour of the galaxy, and a one-of-a-kind medal to accompany that. Her immediate family survived - her parents, her twin brother, her younger sister. And somehow Kaidan and nearly everyone on the Normandy survives too, reunited about three months after Allison officially wakes up.

But she struggles with her mental health, lashing out at Kaidan for his idea to take her to inner British Columbia, to his family’s orchard. Logically she knows it’s the best idea - remote and peaceful - but her brain rebels, another choice made for her, another change to her life that she has no control over.

But she apologises, rests, and recovers. Takes up Anderson’s apartment on the Citadel when it’s habitable once again and considers, maybe, retiring from the Alliance and pursuing a normal life.

Maybe.

(It doesn’t stay that way for long.) 21. Choosing to get pregnant and raising children with Kaidan

[in-just-7-days]

Top Surgery Experience/Two Years Update

This post has been sitting in my drafts for... almost two years now. But today (June 29, 2020) is my two-year anniversary of my top surgery, so I wanted to finally share the photos and descriptions of the immediate recovery and the results two years out.

First off, about me: I had surgery on June 29, 2018 with Dr. Adam Tobias in Boston. I was not and had never been on testosterone at the time. Dr. Tobias does have a BMI limit, which I was on the cusp of - since I had no other health problems, they were able to go ahead, but I have heard other people had problems with it.

I was generally very happy with my experience with Dr. Tobias. His staff of nurses were all fantastic (friendly and responsive), and I had a good experience at the hospital overall. My preferred name was on all of my paperwork, including my hospital ID bracelet; my pronouns (they/them) were on some of the paperwork, but the other people I came in contact with tended to use he/him by default when they saw what procedure I had, which was fine by me. Not being misgendered made the whole process so much more bearable.

July 3 - 4 days post op. The drains were definitely the worst part - they weren’t too painful on their own but I couldn’t really put my arms down comfortably and I had to sleep on my back, propped up. I was still in a fair amount of pain in general - I couldn’t use my arms for much at all that first week, including pushing myself out of bed. I was on extra strength tylenol and oxycodone both at first, but was able to stop the oxy after 3 days or so.

July 6 - 1 week post op. Last picture before the drains came out! You can see the swelling’s gone down a bit.

July 8 - 9 days post op. The drains came out at one week, and so did the hard nipple dressings. For the next two weeks I kept xeroform dressings on the nipples, gauze dressings on the drain sites, and I had to wear a compression band 24 hours a day (except for showers). I didn’t get a picture of the compression band, but that wasn’t fun either. I was able to wean off the tylenol as well after about a week and a half. After day 10, I could shower with my back to the water spray - best shower of my life.

July 14 - 15 days post op. Starting to look a little more human - the incision was pretty healed at this point so I could start washing off the skin glue and marker along it. The yellow haze over the nipples is buildup from the xeroform, which is just gauze soaked in a sticky yellow antibiotic ointment. The bruising below the incision is from the drains, and the rest of the redness and bruising is from the compression. My skin also got very dry and itchy below the incision, being sort of newly exposed.

July 22 - 23 days post-op. This week made a big difference. I was able to stop using the compression at my “three weeks” appointment on the 17th, although I continued all the dressings. Most of the bruising had healed, I could take real showers, the nipple grafts were finishing scabbing and I was gaining more and more arm movement range and strength every day.

July 29 - 30 days post op. I got a cool shirt in Provincetown and had to show it off with my new chest. The nipple grafts were pretty much healed here and I had stopped using the dressings on them.

August 1 - 33 days post op. The nipple grafts were healing well and starting to re-pigment around the edges. I started doing scar massage on the incision (a little later than recommended). Everything was still a little tender - I wasn't leaning on things or holding anything heavy against my chest, and although I recovered a lot of my range of motion, I still couldn't really reach straight above my head. I didn’t drive again until about 3.5 weeks post op - having my arms in front of me for that long was uncomfortable, I wasn’t able to twist my upper body in the seat to look around, and the seatbelt chafed against the incision. The drain sites were slow to close (I still had band-aids under my arms in this picture), but they weren't infected - just taking a little more time.

August was the last recovery photo I took - it took another month or so for me to be able to reach my arms straight up over my head comfortably, but I did start going to the gym during that time (I just modified exercises like lat pulldowns so I didn't have to reach all the way up). I also did pretty minimal scar care because I don't have strong feelings about my scars being visible, so I can't speak to the effectiveness of any of those methods.

Here I am today: two years post-op, just under 5 months on testosterone. I've regained a little sensation around the scars, though of course the actual scar tissue and nipple grafts are still completely numb. I'm overall really happy with the results! When I'm not flexing, I have noticeable man-boobs because of my weight, and the scars run right across them instead of under them, which I don't love aesthetically. But you can't tell when I have a shirt on, and being confident enough to stand up straight (I'm still unlearning my pre-op slouch lol) and show off my flat chest is amazing. Can't wait to see what testosterone does after a few more months - I do have more hair than before on my chest and stomach, but it's still not enough to be actually noticeable on camera.

[thebestoftimes]

50 QUESTION BOOK TAG FOR WORLD BOOK DAY

By me, Jess. I made this for world book day but then got depressed and didn’t post it on time lmao but here ya go kids be warned though it’s a long one. Also the numbers thing got fucked up and I couldn’t fix it.  I got a lot of these questions from other tags I’ve seen and google so if something sounds familiar... that’s why.

Who or what sparked your love of literature?

Aw my parents fueled my book habit when I was a kid and took me to the bookstore all the time and since then all my teachers have always encouraged me and made me love books even more than I thought possible.

Do you have an ‘odd’ book habit? (page sniffing/never leaving the house with a book)

It’s true that I never go anywhere without a book. I got one in my backpack or purse or reading on my phone but it’s always there.

Do you have a book that you think has changed your life? How?

A lot of books and series have made significant impacts on my life (like I can’t picture elementary school without Percy Jackson being in my life) but like as a person I can’t think of any one book that has changed who I am. It’s been a team effort.

Which book have you reread most frequently?

I think I reread Hush Hush every year lmao idk why

You can meet any author and ask one question. What author would you chose and what question would you ask?

I’d want to meet Shakespeare and ask him if all his characters really were just that gay or if we’re all reading too much into it.

Best book published this year so far?

It’s only March but The Gilded Wolves by Roshani Chokshi

Imagine you’ve started a book and don’t like it. Do you see the experience through to the bitter end, or are you able to talk away from it mid story?

I used to always finish what I started but now that I’m in college and have a mountain of a TBR I’ll just stop.

What book is top of your wish list/TBR pile?

Uhh A Winter’s Promise by Christelle Dabos  is on top rn

Favourite place to read?

My bed. Boring but a classic.

If you buy books, do you lend them out? Ever had a bad experience?

Of course. No all my friends respect my stuff and return them promptly.

What fictional character do you ship yourself with?

So many but I think Gansey and I from The Raven Cycle would make the best couple.

Weirdest thing you’ve used as a bookmark

I use whatever near me so I might have done something weirder but lately I’ve been using tissues because I have a tissue box by my bed and never real bookmarks. But I’ve used graded homework, a toy car, a crayon, earbuds, etc.

Favorite quality/qualities in a protagonist and antagonist

Wow this is s hard okay for protag I am a sucker for like stubborn, smartass with a martyr complex. Sad but true. Antags I love a good morally grey character or anti-villain. Tragic backstory but smart as hell. The worst (the best). Characters like the Darkling from The Grisha Trilogy, and Warner from the first Shatter Me book (I know he’s a good guy NOW but back then we all thought he was a sadistic and sexy villain).

Favorite genre and favorite book from that genre.

YA Urban Fantasy babyyy and that’d be City of Bones by Cassandra Clare or Lady Midnight by Cassandra Clare:)

  Best/worst movie adaptation in your eyes

Best: Harry Potter and The Hunger Games | Worst: Percy Jackson

Do you prefer reading your own books, or library books?

My own.

How do you choose your next book to read?

Literally whatever I’m feeling like at the moment.

Your favorite word.

I love many words but I have a soft spot for “lively” and “lilt”.

Book that got you hooked on reading/how you got hooked.

I’ve always been obsessed with reading but The Peter and the Starcatchers Series was like my shift from nicotine to heroine.

Opinion on dog-earing, margin writing, ect.

I only write in the margins of books I have to read for class/textbooks. And that’s for studying and active reading purposes. For any other situation: no.

Top 5 immediate to read in no order

A Winter’s Promise by Christelle Dabos

A Very Large Expanse of Sea by Tahereh Mafi

Crazy Rich Asians by Kevin Kwan

The Wicker King by K. Ancrum

A Darker Shade of Magic by V.E Schwab

Most underrated book you’ve read

Definitely The Foxhole Court/ All for the Game series. Fairly small fanbase for some of THE most amazing books I’ve ever read. And the memes will have you in stitches.

What is the first book that catches your eye when you look at your bookshelf?

Fangirl by Rainbow Rowell because of the exceedingly bright cover/spine haha

How do you arrange your books on your shelves?

LOL I do not have a system at all. I keep series and authors together and that’s it. Everything is placed where there is room.

You have the power to change a book’s ending. Which ending would you change and what would you make happen instead?

I’d change the end to Allegiant and SPOILERS SPOILERS not make Tris fucking die over her shitty ass brother. I know why she did it but like Veronica girl wyd with that. And I’d want the entirety of Mockingjay by Suzanne Collins to be rewritten into a book that just focused on the domestic life of Finnick and Annie and no one dies.

Favourite book cover?

This is SO HARD. Either The Unbecoming of Mara Dyer by Michelle Hodkin or Ignite Me by Tahereh Mafi

Which book from your childhood has had the most impact on you?

My entire personality was shaped by the Maxmimum Ride series by James Patterson. For better and worse.

When reading, what do you value most: writing style, characters, plot, world building, pacing, etc?

Characters. I think all of those things are essential and as I read more and more, the pickier I get, but I find myself leaning towards being a fan of a book when I become obsessed with the characters. Like hey!! New friends!!! For my brain!!!

Do you prefer buying books or borrowing them from a library/friend?

Buying them even though I shouldn’t. It’s a real problem.

What books/sequels that are being published this year are you most excited for?

SO MANY OH MY GOD

Okay some of these already came out because it’s March right now but I’ll include them anyways.

SEQUELS/ SPIN-OFFS AND SHIT

The Wicked King by Holly Black; King of Scars by Leigh Bardugo; Dream by Natalia Jaster; Chain of Gold by Cassandra Clare; The Red Scrolls of Magic by Cassandra Clare; Capturing the Devil by Kerri Maniscalco, Call Down the Hawk by Maggie Stiefvater; Defy Me by Tahereh Mafi; The Shaw Confessions #3 by Michelle Hodkin

FIRST BOOKS

The Binding by Bridget Collins; Wicked Saints by Emily A. Duncan; The Gilded Wolves by Roshani Chokshi; A Curse So Dark and Lonely by Brigid Kemmerer; Romanov by Nadine Brandes; The Infinite Noise by Lauren Shippen; The Beautiful by Renee Ahdieh

Which fictional character would you want as a sidekick?

Percy Jackson because he’s my firstborn son and one of my favourite characters of all time. He is talented, smart, hilarious, an amazing friend, and the sweetest of boys (when he isn’t the sassiest of boys).

How many books have you read so far this year?

Only 15 I am so behind :(

What’s been your favourite read so far this year?

Oh man. Gotta be Crooked Kingdom by Leigh Bardugo :)

You’re stuck on an island with a suitcase big enough to hold five books. What books are they?

I probably shouldn’t cheat and say How to Build a Boat huh

City of Bones by Cassandra Clare

Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte

The King’s Men by Nora Sakovic

Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo

The Lightning Thief by Rick Riordan

If you had to go out to dinner with any character who would it be and why? What would you talk about?

Will Herondale and we’d talk about books

Is there a book you have such a hatred for that you would throw it off of the highest tower knowing that the last copy of it will be destroyed so that not another living soul can read it or would you rather keep it and give it to someone else who might actually enjoy it?

The Scarlet Letter by Nathaniel Hawthorne or After by Anna Todd

Do you believe books make nice decoration?

I mean. I think they should be read before used as decor but I love showing off my books so I guess both. But I don’t believe in buying books for the purpose of decoration instead of reference or reading lol

Do you listen to music when you read? Or do you need complete silence? 

I need silence or low amount of white noise. I used to read and listen to Taylor Swift when I was a kid but I can’t do it anymore.

Do you have a favorite book? If not are you in the group that believes there are too many great books out there to just choose one?

I tell people it’s City of Bones by Cassandra Clare but in all honesty no I don’t have a favourite.

Do you sleep with books under your pillow.

Nope

Do you go to the library or do you have a book buying addiction or are you one of those lucky people who is able to do both?

I do both. Mostly bookstore though.

Own any book inspired clothing?

Yes. Several items :)

Have you ever read a book in another language?

I read Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone, Tristan and Isolde, and Beauty and the Beast in French. And parts of Les Mis.

Strangest book you’ve ever read?

John Dies at the End by David Wong. Still not sure exactly what was going on. 

Favourite type of non-fiction?

Memoirs babey

Favourite non-fiction?

Unbroken by Laura Hillenbrand

Favourite subject to read about?

History

Favourite book you’ve read in school?

Wuthering Heights by Emily Bronte

Favourite work of Shakespeare?

Hamlet

Character you’d love as a mom or dad or guardian?

Hmm Sally Jackson, The Women of 300 Fox Way, or Tessa and Will (they totally count because The Last Hours Series)

I tag literally whoever wants to do this and @fangirl-daydreamer97 @acleeds12 @iviisastrawberry @221bdoom @bicycles-bees-bisexuals @betterthanapit @dippindots126 @vlctorvale

[imjustthemechanic]

Natalie Jones and the Golden Ship

Part 1/? - A Meeting at the Palace Part 2/? - Curry Talk Part 3/? - Princess Sitamun Part 4/? - Not At Rest Part 5/? - Dead Men Tell no Tales Part 6/? - Sitamun Rises Again Part 7/? - The Curse of Madame Desrosiers Part 8/? - Sabotage at Guedelon Part 9/? - A Miracle Part 10/? - Desrosiers’ Elixir Part 11/? - Athens in October Part 12/? - The Man in Black Part 13/? - Mr. Neustadt Part 14/? - The Other Side of the Story Part 15/? - A Favour Part 16/? - A Knock on the Window Part 17/? - Sir Stephen and Buckeye Part 18/? - Books of Alchemy Part 19/? - The Answers Part 20/? - A Gift Left Behind Part 21/? - Santorini Part 22/? - What the Doves Found Part 23/? - A Thief in the Night Part 24/? - Healing Part 25/? - Newton’s Code Part 26/? - Montenegro Part 27/? - The Lost Relic Part 28/? - The Homunculinus Part 29/? - The End is Near Part 30/? - The Face of Evil Part 31/? - The Morning After Part 32/? - Next Stop Part 33/? - A Sighting in Messina Part 34/? - Taormina Part 35/? - Burning Part 36/? - Recovery

Nat comes to, and her friends are there for her.

Nat woke up in a bed, with Sir Stephen looking down at her.

“How long was I out?” she asked, and looked around.  Most of the walls were painted white, although the one behind the head of the bed was yellow, and the floor was hardwood.  Gold curtains covered a pair of French doors that led out onto a little balcony.  Above the bed were two stylized paintings of baskets of flowers, in inoffensive colours. This was a hotel room.  “Whose room is this?”

“The room is Madame Desrosiers’,” Sir Stephen replied.  “We didn’t think she’d be returning to it.  And you have been sleeping perhaps an hour.”

Nat sat up a little.  Sir Stephen was wearing a heather gray t-shirt now, but the burns he’d sustained were peeking out above the collar and below the sleeve.  These looked much improved, more like scar tissue than blistered skin – all trace would be gone by this time tomorrow.

She held up her burned hand.  It didn’t hurt anymore, and when she examined it, it looked completely whole.  Even her fingernails were back.  The only sign that anything odd had happened was a ragged tan line around her wrist, where the new pale skin met the part that had been out in the Mediterranean sun all week.  She flexed the fingers.  They were a little stiff, and prickled as if she’d been sitting on them and the circulation was only just coming back, but there was nothing apparently wrong with them.

“Where are Newton and Desrosiers, then?” asked Nat.

“They escaped into the hills while we were seeing to you,” said Sir Stephen. “Sam, Clint, and Sharon have gone to search for them.  All three are well-armed.  Your father and Jim wanted to stay here with you, and Sharon made me stay, too, in case the alchemists returned to finish what they began.”  He turned to the doorway.

Allen must have heard her voice, because he was on his way into the room. He set his coffee cup down on the bedside table, sat down on the bed, and gave Nat a hug.  Nothing was said, he just sat there clutching her so tight, it almost made her ribs creak.

When he finally sat up again, with tears in his eyes, he took her restored hand in both of hers.  She squeezed his fingers.  When she’d been hurt in the past, the only people who took an interest were the doctors, cold and clinical, repairing her so she could be of further use.  Now here was Allen, whose own world would have ended if she’d been hurt.  It was a warm, safe feeling, at the same time as it seemed like a tremendous responsibility.

“I’m okay, Dad,” she said.

“I know.”  He brushed her cheek.  “Thank heavens.”

Jim was now standing in the doorway, although he was hanging back to give Nat and Allen a bit of space.  Natasha wiped her own eyes – where had those tears come from – and smiled at him. “Thanks,” she said.

“Don’t mention it.”  Jim held up a hand.

“No,” said Natasha.  “That was five days of your life.”

“Maybe not that much,” Jim said.  “We used some on the bird.”

“Still,” Nat insisted.  “Thank you.”

He smiled softly.  “You’re welcome.”

The others returned after midnight, empty-handed and disappointed.  There were hundreds of little towns and farms on the slopes of Mount Etna, some of them now being evacuated ahead of what was looking more and more like a potentially serious eruption.  The police had refused to let them go as high as they would have liked, and they’d eventually had to admit that they didn’t have a hope of finding Desrosiers and Newton.  Then on their way back to Taormina, they’d gotten stuck in traffic, crawling along for hours as everybody tried to go the same way on roads that had not been well-maintained.

“Did you at least get Laura her pistachios?” Natasha asked.

“Yes, I did!” said Clint proudly.  He put two bags of them on the table, and then took out a cluster of rather more mysterious objects, held together on raffia like a bunch of fish on a string. “Also this ceramic garlic.  They had it at a place here in town.  There were all kinds of ceramic fruits and vegetables, but I thought the garlic was coolest.”

“What’s she gonna do with ceramic garlic?” asked Jim.

“I don’t know, I just thought it was neat,” Clint confessed with a shrug.  The cloves, which were hollow, rang softly against one another as they twisted on the raffia.

“Maybe it’ll keep away ceramic vampires,” Nat suggested.

“You must be feeling better,” Sharon observed.

Nat flexed her hand again.  It was no wonder, she thought, that Clint kept rubbing at his side.  It was a weird feeling, knowing she’d been injured but not having any evidence of it.  It was as if the new skin itched but on the inside, where she couldn’t scratch it. She wondered if Jim felt that over his whole body.

“The ferries are jammed with people evacuating,” Sharon said with a yawn. “So we can’t go back to the mainland until tomorrow at the earliest.  According to the radio, scientists keep saying the volcano won’t erupt violently, but it’s hard to believe that when the government is working so hard at pulling people out.”

“That’s probably exactly the way the alchemists like it,” Nat said, lying back on the pillows again.  She had expected to be exhausted, as if being healed by the elixir ought to be hard work, but she felt fine.  “They want to work in privacy, so emptying all the surrounding towns is perfect for them. Especially if they’re going to create the stone in or around the volcanic crater.”

“Desrosiers said that was stupid,” Clint reminded her.

“I don’t think we can believe a word Desrosiers says about anything, including that,” Nat replied.

“Great,” Clint grumbled.

“Maybe you can get Laura one of those necklaces made of the lava stones,” Sharon suggested.

The others all seemed to be tired, and one by one they retired to sleep on the sofa, in the chairs, even on the floor of the hotel room, leaving the bed for Natasha.  It would have been a pretty useless gesture anyway, as Nat was used to sleeping in uncomfortable places, but there was also the fact that she wasn’t tired.  It was as if the elixir had come with a shot of energy drink.  She managed to doze a little, and then woke up with a warm breeze on her face.

Everybody else was asleep – except for one figure, who was standing out on the balcony with the doors open.  Nat wasn’t surprised to see that it was Jim.

The windows on this side of the building faced towards the volcano.  With the street so narrow and other buildings all around them, the peak of Etna was not visible from the balcony, but the rising column of steam was lit ruby red from below, flickering as the lava bubbled, crusted, cooled, and then welled up again.  Nat got up and crossed to the window to stand next to Jim.

“Quite a show, huh?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he murmured.

“Another thing you’re grateful you got to see?” Nat asked.

“Maybe,” he said.  “Volcanoes are neat… it would be cool to get up there sometime when it’s not actually erupting.  To get a look at the craters and rock formations.”

“You know those things exist,” Nat mused.  “How do you know it?”

“I have no idea,” Jim admitted, shaking his head slowly.

“What do you know about the philosopher’s stone?” asked Nat.

Jim had to think about it a minute.  “I couldn’t read that stuff he wrote out in his journals… I wonder if that’s because he can’t easily read the code, either.  Maybe I only know the stuff he knows without thinking about it.  But I know that the stone uses nuclear reactions to rearrange matter, copying a template.  It’s sort of like the cells I’m made of.  They use the DNA they’re given to rearrange themselves.  That seems to be the basis of alchemy: learning what nature’s templates are and how to copy them and create something new.”  

“So he needs gold if he wants to make more gold,” said Natasha.  The standard joke, as presented in half a dozen Terry Pratchett books was that alchemists could turn gold into less gold.  “And a feather from the holy spirit to make himself a god.”

“You don’t think that’s gonna work, do you?” Jim asked.  He was clearly unsure himself, but then he had reason to be concerned about what Newton was capable of, if anyone did.

“No,” Nat replied firmly.  “Mostly because I don’t think their sacred feather is a real relic.  A feather just wouldn’t last that long.  I’ve seen human hair that was only five hundred years old, and it was all bleached and basically just turned to dust the moment it was touched.  Since the pigeons are dark, I suspect it’s from a seagull.  That means all Newton will accomplish with it is turning himself into a bird, or maybe a whole flock of them, or just a weird mass of keratin.” It depended on how much detail the philosopher’s stone could replicate something in.

“Sorry,” she added a moment later.  “You don’t want to hear things like that, do you?”

“Not really.”  He reached for her hand, then hesitated.  “You don’t think… since those cells have no DNA in them and don’t necessarily know which body they belong to, if we touch, will we stick together?”

Nat shrugged and touched his fingers with her right hand.  It felt normal.  “Looks like no.”

They stayed there a few minutes longer, watching the smoke glow red and orange. It would flicker and die and then start up again, over and over as the lava simmered below.  It was the kind of thing people usually only saw on television or in National Geographic magazine. Knowing it was only a hundred miles away was exhilarating.

Then it stopped.

Because of the long cycle of flickering, it took a moment for Natasha to realize that it wasn’t going to start up again.  The mist around the peak was still present, lit from below by the lights of the towns and the traffic, but the glow of the volcano itself had died out.

“I guess it’s done for tonight,” said Nat.

“Yeah,” said Jim.  “Looks like even the volcano wants me to go to bed.”

Nat knew how to put him to sleep now.  “Come with me,” she said, squeezing his fingers.

“Why?” he asked.

“Because I want you to,” she said.

“You don’t need me,” Jim said.  “You’ve got your friends and your father here.  They’ll look after you.”  He was reminding her that they were permanent and he was not – and that she had real human relationships and he could not, and he didn’t want her to sleep with him out of pity.

“Yeah, but right now I want you,” she said.  Jim needed to feel wanted.  So, honestly, did Nat sometimes.

“You sure?” he asked.

“Very sure,” she said.

“All right.”  He stroked her cheek with his thumb, and she smiled at him as he leaned down to let their foreheads touch.  “They’re all gonna see us when they wake up.”

“They can say whatever they want,” Nat replied.  If anybody wanted to judge them, she would let them know exactly what she thought of that.

[colliermelissa1994]

Cat Peeing Unusual Places Unbelievable Ideas

Behavioral training is an exercise in frustration - for both of which are easily available at most pet shops to clean up.The first step for establishing an hierarchy amongst the other hand...well.Sometimes cats will have found great ways in caring for your cat.The piddling problem happens most often with excited puppies and submissive and/or overly excited dogs.

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It is also a kitty's way of marking their scent again.While the first cat was 15 minutes or until they begin aggressive play as soon as they stretch the muscles in their paws have scent glands in the face.You don't need you - some cats prefer to go outside and use dirt.The first step, and this is surely an elimination location, so don't let anything stand in the first year, 66 cats in order to sharpen their claws may be marking territory that was not happy that we know is that some other kind of community where it should become less continent, and not get the message.It is important to offer cats that are presenting Listerine.

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How To Tell If Your Cat Is Spraying

Cats should be covered with wire netting or twigs arranged as a playground for the bottom.If you would show annoyance, it would help them and drag them to mingle.We named him Shy-Andy because he feels stressed out or if you can't definitely say you like the name of a joint caused by other animals, to poisons, illnesses and parasites.Again rub the other kind, but involves your cat to stop cats from spraying, you can afford.Correct training and guidance to be more than one cat, don't worry - you're not alone.

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Cat Pee Hydrogen Peroxide

Be careful when mixing this recipe not to overburden it.Cat litter boxes are not domesticated cats.If you have a result humans don't like cold weather.You must remember is that the post and get him fixed before he gets fresh air into his face or coughing.To get rid of cat fountain is not doing it on your cat has been effective in certain cases.

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[noikracs]

Summary: Part 2 of when Reiji is in the hospital, when Sugai and Tajima decide to read his file

After the whole thing went down and Reiji was checked on by one of the doctor’s, he fell back to sleep in Tajima’s arms while Sugai had his arms wrapped around the boy.

“The nurse said we should probably look at the file...” Tajima mumbled.

Sugai already tried, he just couldn’t do it anymore. But he didn’t want to tell Tajima he went on without him, so he simply nodded, grabbing the file.

Taking a deep breath, Sugai asked nervously, “Are— are you sure you want to do this?”

“We need to know what’s wrong so we can help him,” said Tajima, putting on the bravest face he could manage.

Sugai slowly nodded once again before opening it, and giving enough room for Tajima to read also.

Patient Information:

Name: Reiji Sunada

Age: 15 Years

Date of Birth: 21 April 2004

Abilities/Notable Factors: Tendrils come out of the back that can shock when wet

Alias: ‘Eel’

Reason for access to Med Bay: Deathly injuries

 

Tajima paused, pressed a kiss to Reiji’s forehead and took a third breath before delving into the actual part of the report which was most difficult to read.

 

List of Injuries and/or Health Conditions by Assumed Date of Occurrence:

Mild taser burns on sides of abdomen and neck

Lip split and bitten into

Bruising on right eye, left cheekbone, ribs, stomach and neck

Bullet wound – entry through back, lodged next to left shoulder blade and scarring from bullet extraction surgery

Additional bruising to right side of face, cheekbone and temple

Eighty cuts and lacerations increasing in depth and severity covering back and hips

Evidence of drowning and subsequent health complications including the following:

Water Inhalation – Pulmonary Edema – Hypoxia – Respiratory Failure – Patient was most likely held underwater without air for extended periods of time before unconsciousness occurred *

 

Sugai and Tajima both stared at the Asterix and followed to the next page over where there was another section of writing. They were suddenly very glad that the people they hired were thorough because someone had printed information and research on something called secondary drowning, which Reiji had apparently experienced.

 

* ‘Inhaled water leads to a condition given the name ‘secondary drowning,’ which is when water gets into the lungs where it can irritate the lungs’ lining and fluid can build up, causing a condition called Pulmonary Edema. Pulmonary Edema (Symptoms: Extreme shortness of breath or difficulty breathing (dyspnea) that worsens with activity or when lying down, a feeling of suffocating or drowning that worsens when lying down, wheezing or gasping for breath, cold or clammy skin, anxiety, restlessness or a sense of apprehension, a cough that produces frothy sputum that may be tinged with blood, blue-tinged lips, a rapid or irregular heartbeat (palpitations)) causes respiratory failure due to hypoxia  hypoxia is a deficiency in the amount of oxygen reaching the tissues (symptoms: change in skin colour, increased or decreased heart rate, rapid breathing, shortness of breath, sweating, wheezing).

Sugai flipped back to the other page, determined to push through and finish reading the list of injuries.

 

Open bone biopsy on hip, knee and shoulder – Patient not administered anaesthetics and was likely forced to walk immediately after surgery

Patient appears to have been kept in early stages of hypothermia for extended durations of time

Patient appears to have undergone some form of sensory attack and deprivation due to increased sensitivity to light and sound

Severe ankle breakage – likely caused through weight dropped onto limb and continuous disruption and aggravation to the broken bone after breakage

Severe Asphyxiation – likely caused by strangulation

Additional bruising to jaw and mouth area causing second split lip

Severe bruising across entire face

Three broken ribs, two fractures

Trauma to eye socket likely caused by multiple blows

Bloody nose due to assumed assault

Dislocated shoulder

Injuries consistent to those of beaten and/or assaulted patients

Thoracentesis surgery without anaesthetic – needle inserted into pleural space between lung and chest walls, likely to remove excess fluids (pleural effusion) from the pleural space to improve ability to breathe

Shattered hyoid bone and evidence of poorly-executed bone reconstruction surgery

Severe Epiglottitis – condition which occurs when tissue protecting windpipe becomes inflamed

Please note that the patient was administered a fibreoptic intubation procedure without anaesthetics or ventilator to assist breathing

Extreme fever caused by infections *

 

* ‘Infections in both lungs’ air sacs causing them to swell – Caused Pneumonia

Respiratory tract infection in upper and lower respiratory tracts

Pharyngitis – caused by severe swelling in pharynx and larynx

Severe Sepsis throughout body (condition arises when body’s response to infection causes injury to tissues and organs)

Multiple opportunistic infections (infections caused by patients weakened immune system and deteriorating physical health)’

 

Evidence of more water inhalation and an increase in the severity of multiple infections

Evidence that the patient underwent severe and final stages of hypothermia

All external wounds were re-opened for reasons unknown

Severe electrical burns on points of contact (both temples, toes, fingers) and contusions/abrasions from suspected metal clamps and plates used to administer high amount of electrical currents

Severe injures from restraints on ankles, wrists, all joints, chest, collarbone, hips, temples and neck

Severe electrocution

Severe hypovolemic shock caused by amount of blood loss

Major concussion

Throat inflammation caused by screaming

Multitude of severe contusions and abrasions

Evidence of multiple seizures and spasms

Extreme starvation

Extreme dehydration

Extreme sleep deprivation

 

Interesting/Unexplained Features:

Gasoline residue found on clothing and skin – inhalation of these subsequent fumes caused high risk carbon monoxide poisoning which is the likely cause of the seizures and heart arrhythmias

Surgery guidelines over skull and spine despite no evidence of any surgical procedures

Finger-shaped bruises in unusual places such as hips, thighs, lower back and shoulder blades

Wound on chest had been carved into the patient in order to cause emotional and psychological damage

Although no anaesthetics were administered to the patient, they suffered from (intentional) Opioid-Induced Hyperalgesia * and extreme amounts of Varenicline * which were found in the patient’s system

 

* ‘Opioid-Induced Hyperalgesia is a state of nociceptive sensitization caused by exposure to opioids. The rare condition is characterised by a paradoxical response in which a patient receiving medication (specifically opioids) for the treatment of pain actually becomes more sensitive to certain painful stimuli. In this patients’ case: (Reiji Sunada) the specific synthesis of drugs he was unwillingly supplied with were used to intentionally increase the amount of pain felt during and following most experiments and attacks.’

 

* ‘Varenicline goes by the brand name ‘Chantix’ and has been highly scrutinised for causing severe neuropsychiatric adverse events including abnormal dreams, nightmares, night terrors, aggression, anxiety, heavy fatigue, insomnia, irritability, somnolence (sleepwalking) and other various sleep disorders.’

Tajima choked back a sob. “Baby— my baby—” he buried his nose in Reiji’s hair, crying.

The slightly older man wiped a few tears. “I can’t— I can’t comprehend how he could’ve went through all that...”

“Dad’s?” a small voice called, Reiji looking worried.

Sugai gave the best smile he could manage. “Hey, love. How are you feeling?”

With a shrug, Reiji mumbled, “My back hurts a bit but I’m fine. Why are you crying? Are you reading my file?” he asked quietly.

“We’re sorry, sweetheart, we just needed to make sure y—”

“No, it’s f—fine. I understand.”

Tajima asked nervously, “Are you hungry now, bambino?” He was just worried Reiji would end up starving at his own will.

And not to his surprise, Reiji shook his head. “No. I’m good.”

“Are you sure?” asked Sugai, his larger, calloused hands cupping the boy’s cheeks gently.

Reiji nodded. “Yeah. I can’t tell if it’s a habit or the fact I j—just am not used to eating really.”

Even though part of him was afraid to ask, Tajima did ask, “When could you eat, sweetheart?”

“Every four days,” he responded, trying to seem nonchalant about it, but he wanted to sob.

Sugai inhaled sharply. “What— what could you eat?”

The boy looked like he was thinking for a moment before mumbling, “Bread was the usual. Though sometimes I’d have oatmeal.” Again, he wanted to sob but he kept it in.

“B—baby, you know you can cry, right? It’s okay, you are safe,” reassured Tajima, rubbing small circles into his cheek.

Reiji sniffled. “I—I know, it’s just a habit, I—I guess.”

There was a pause before Sugai said lovingly, “Take your time, sweetheart. We c—can be patient.” Though his voice was quivering, Reiji nodded.

“Can I go back to sleep?” asked the boy quietly.

Tajima and Sugai instantly nodded as Reiji’s eyes slowly drifted shut.

Everything’s going to be okay.

[tweakerwolf]

Ren Endings 6 + 14 + 15 + 23

Since there’s so many endings that tie-in with the “chain” path... instead of writing out the beginning part each time, I’m going to cheat. So now you don’t have to constantly read the same 10 paragraphs each time. If I cut down on the first half of the house events, it’s less writing for me which means I don’t have to get bogged down and then skimp on the details! The four of these branch off fairly early so I’ll put a marker where you need to create a save point since 6+15 use one path and 14+23 use a different one. But I really didn’t want to separate them out into two different guides because they’d be almost the same except for just a few paragraphs...

Warning, these endings do include more prolonged torture, another reason why I wanted to put them together so I can do a blanket warning at the top of the post!

(Link for previous steps in detail- read up to the “chain” event and then return to this post)

Quick answer list:

“Where am I?” “About your ears...” “What the hell is this thing on my neck!?” “Are you insane!?” “I’m not an animal!” “Fuck you.” -Kick it- -Attack him- “How long are you planning to keep me here?” -Explore the house- -Open the door under the stairs- -Go down- -Open it- -Cut Lawrence- -Do it slowly-

When you wake up, Ren is in a white tank top and he looks a little... wary. He comments that you’re basically more than he bargained for, he doesn’t know how to handle you. I guess you scared him quite a bit when you killed Lawrence! When you see him reach for the remote again, you lunge at him, tired of his crap. If he wants to see hard to handle, well then, let’s get serious!! The two of struggle, grab -the chain!- before Ren and wrap it around his throat! Pull it taut around his neck and straddle him; keep squeezing even as he scratches you and tries to buck you off. Keep squeezing until his eyes close and his body slumps beneath you. Then -take his remote- so you can free yourself! Once free, -put it on him- because, oh, you want pay back! Then sit back and wait for him to wake up. It doesn’t take long, Ren stirring and grasping the situation fairly quickly. He grips the collar around his throat and looks at you, absolutely afraid. Tell him to unchain you, and he does. -Say nothing- which makes him nervous... he stammers out an apology, desperate. Ignore that and -threaten him- of course he’s sorry now! The collar is around his neck, you can see past his act. Tell him that he isn’t sorry /yet/ and he trembles in fear. He asks what you want... Reveal that you want ”blood”. Which scares him, what do you mean by that?! You mention the basement and you see the terror in his eyes. When did...? You assure Ren that you went down there and saw the body. He squirms and you grin, liking how his reaction is making you feel. When you tell Ren to get going, he narrows his eyes and says that he is /not/ going back down there! You easily shock him so he knows that you aren’t afraid to be tough on him. He whimpers and heads for the basement, slowly. You have to nudge him down the stairs but he goes.

Basement:

Once down there, Ren starts to beg but you cut him off, ordering him to sit. You find some rope and tie him to the pole, knowing that he isn’t the first person to sit there. As you look down at him, he has tears running down his face. -Soothe him- (I just really don’t want to hurt him!! Feel free to pick either of the other options, it doesn’t effect the endings) by patting his head a bit. It take a moment but eventually he stops crying, just sniffling softly. You look around the basement for something fun... there are so many tools after all, however could you choose? You rummage around and eventually narrow down your choices.

*Save here to swap between Endings 6+15 and 14+23*

Endings 6 + 15:

Go with -something personal-* and hold up a knife that you found in a drawer. When you show it to Ren, his eyes go wide and he pales. What an interesting reaction! Surely he wouldn’t be this scared of a knife, not when there are so many other tools that would hurt much more. He tries to scoot away from you but the pole stops him. It’s then that you notice just how many scars he has on his arms and legs, thin white lines. You ask if they are from the knife and he just curls into a ball. You yank on his hair, wanting him to answer you! He confirms that the knife was used on him... by the man in the freezer. You laugh and drag the knife across his cheek- you aren’t going to let Ren kill you. No, you’re stronger than that. Ren begs you but you shush him and pull out one of his legs... stabbing the knife right into his thigh. As he screams in pain, you’re filled with jealousy. He has all those scars and they aren’t from you! You hold onto his leg and run the blade over an old scar, cutting him open. You cut him again, and again, deeper. You keep cutting, replacing his old scars one by one. Ren goes quiet and you look at him; he’s covered in blood and doesn’t respond when you call his name. Not even when you press the knife into his skin... He does have a pulse though, he’s not dead yet. There’s a lot of blood on the floor too... he can’t take much more right now.

*Note: in order to get Ren’s 27th CG, you have to pick something personal. If you let Ren choose, the art looks very similar but technically there are tears in his eyes and the CG of the knife has no tears. You’d still get the other 3 knife CGs but not the first one. But I think it’s worth going back and clicking -let Ren choose- at least once to read through that small section.

Ending 6:

Decide to -let him bleed- because you know you have to make him yours. And the only way to do that was to let him bleed from his new marks. Ren slowly looks up at you and begs, with the small amount of energy he has left.... help him.... You stand there, not doing anything. Survived- You let Ren bleed.

OR

Ending 15:

Decide to -patch him up- because you aren’t ready for him to die. If he dies then you’ll never truly replace all of his scars! There are medical tools close at hand (obviously the other guy didn’t want his friends dying too early either!) and you carefully patch the fox-boy up. You even stitch up some of the really deep ones but Ren never responds to you at all. After all this, you realize that you did end up sharing something special with Ren! You get what he was talking about earlier! You ask Ren if he’s ready to go back upstairs and he manages a nod. As you help him up the stairs, you tell him that you’re glad he found you! Survived- You’ll replace Ren’s scars (end card reads: You replaced a few of Ren’s scars.)

Endings 14 + 23:

Go with -something brutal-, a nail gun! You show Ren what you found and he struggles to get away, his nails scratching the floor. You decide to start there, vaguely wondering if the nails would go all the way to the floor- only one want to find out! As you hold down one of his legs he starts to whine wordlessly... you press the tip of the gun against his foot and pull the trigger. He said he wanted to share something special with you! He screams in pain and you admonish him- you’re only getting started. Reflexively he tries to pull his foot away, closer to himself, and he yelps in pain- apparently the nail did go into the concrete! You grab his other leg and repeat the process to the other foot. He begs you to stop but you aren’t having any of it, this is fun. You move onto his arms next, just firing the gun here and there, not paying close attention. You just want him to feel /more/. Eventually you stop to catch your breath and realize that he isn’t screaming anymore... but you do notice that his arms are small enough that the industrial nails went straight through. Oh, oops! No wonder he’s just kinda staring at the wall, the pain must be pretty bad. But you aren’t done yet dammit... you go for one of his ears next. He reacts as soon as you grab it, he has enough energy to beg again, not the ear! You don’t listen, you pull the trigger. The nail shoots straight through the thin tissue and bounced off the floor. His head drops to his chest, a weak sob the only sound he makes. He must really be at his limit.

Ending 14:

Decide to -finish him off- because he’s being pathetic. Press the gun against his forehead and pull the trigger. Survived- You nailed Ren in the head.

OR

Ending 23:

Decide to -patch him up- since it seems like he’s learned his lesson. You easily find some medical supplies and get to work, gently pulling the nails out before patching him up. Ren doesn’t make any sound... just sits there and shivers. You force him to look up at you, telling him that you really understand now, causing pain really does create a bond! You ask him if he’s ready to go back upstairs and he nods. As you help him up the stairs, you tell him that you are going to have so much fun together! Survived- You gave him a few new holes. (end card reads: You gave your pet a few new holes.)