#it SURE SOUNDED LIKE we had to ANSWER OUR RESEARCH QUESTIONS

[strohller27]

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[mostlysignssomeportents]

In defense of bureaucratic competence

Sure, sometimes it really does make sense to do your own research. There's times when you really do need to take personal responsibility for the way things are going. But there's limits. We live in a highly technical world, in which hundreds of esoteric, potentially lethal factors impinge on your life every day.

You can't "do your own research" to figure out whether all that stuff is safe and sound. Sure, you might be able to figure out whether a contractor's assurances about a new steel joist for your ceiling are credible, but after you do that, are you also going to independently audit the software in your car's antilock brakes?

How about the nutritional claims on your food and the sanitary conditions in the industrial kitchen it came out of? If those turn out to be inadequate, are you going to be able to validate the medical advice you get in the ER when you show up at 3AM with cholera? While you're trying to figure out the #HIPAAWaiver they stuck in your hand on the way in?

40 years ago, Ronald Reagan declared war on "the administrative state," and "government bureaucrats" have been the favored bogeyman of the American right ever since. Even if Steve Bannon hasn't managed to get you to froth about the "Deep State," there's a good chance that you've griped about red tape from time to time.

Not without reason, mind you. The fact that the government can make good rules doesn't mean it will. When we redid our kitchen this year, the city inspector added a bunch of arbitrary electrical outlets to the contractor's plans in places where neither we, nor any future owner, will every need them.

But the answer to bad regulation isn't no regulation. During the same kitchen reno, our contractor discovered that at some earlier time, someone had installed our kitchen windows without the accompanying vapor-barriers. In the decades since, the entire structure of our kitchen walls had rotted out. Not only was the entire front of our house one good earthquake away from collapsing – there were two half rotted verticals supporting the whole thing – but replacing the rotted walls added more than $10k to the project.

In other words, the problem isn't too much regulation, it's the wrong regulation. I want our city inspectors to make sure that contractors install vapor barriers, but to not demand superfluous electrical outlets.

Which raises the question: where do regulations come from? How do we get them right?

Regulation is, first and foremost, a truth-seeking exercise. There will never be one obvious answer to any sufficiently technical question. "Should this window have a vapor barrier?" is actually a complex question, needing to account for different window designs, different kinds of barriers, etc.

To make a regulation, regulators ask experts to weigh in. At the federal level, expert agencies like the DoT or the FCC or HHS will hold a "Notice of Inquiry," which is a way to say, "Hey, should we do something about this? If so, what should we do?"

Anyone can weigh in on these: independent technical experts, academics, large companies, lobbyists, industry associations, members of the public, hobbyist groups, and swivel-eyed loons. This produces a record from which the regulator crafts a draft regulation, which is published in something called a "Notice of Proposed Rulemaking."

The NPRM process looks a lot like the NOI process: the regulator publishes the rule, the public weighs in for a couple of rounds of comments, and the regulator then makes the rule (this is the federal process; state regulation and local ordinances vary, but they follow a similar template of collecting info, making a proposal, collecting feedback and finalizing the proposal).

These truth-seeking exercises need good input. Even very competent regulators won't know everything, and even the strongest theoretical foundation needs some evidence from the field. It's one thing to say, "Here's how your antilock braking software should work," but you also need to hear from mechanics who service cars, manufacturers, infosec specialists and drivers.

These people will disagree with each other, for good reasons and for bad ones. Some will be sincere but wrong. Some will want to make sure that their products or services are required – or that their competitors' products and services are prohibited.

It's the regulator's job to sort through these claims. But they don't have to go it alone: in an ideal world, the wrong people will be corrected by other parties in the docket, who will back up their claims with evidence.

So when the FCC proposes a Net Neutrality rule, the monopoly telcos and cable operators will pile in and insist that this is technically impossible, that there is no way to operate a functional ISP if the network management can't discriminate against traffic that is less profitable to the carrier. Now, this unity of perspective might reflect a bedrock truth ("Net Neutrality can't work") or a monopolists' convenient lie ("Net Neutrality is less profitable for us").

In a competitive market, there'd be lots of counterclaims with evidence from rivals: "Of course Net Neutrality is feasible, and here are our server logs to prove it!" But in a monopolized markets, those counterclaims come from micro-scale ISPs, or academics, or activists, or subscribers. These counterclaims are easy to dismiss ("what do you know about supporting 100 million users?"). That's doubly true when the regulator is motivated to give the monopolists what they want – either because they are hoping for a job in the industry after they quit government service, or because they came out of industry and plan to go back to it.

To make things worse, when an industry is heavily concentrated, it's easy for members of the ruling cartel – and their backers in government – to claim that the only people who truly understand the industry are its top insiders. Seen in that light, putting an industry veteran in charge of the industry's regulator isn't corrupt – it's sensible.

All of this leads to regulatory capture – when a regulator starts defending an industry from the public interest, instead of defending the public from the industry. The term "regulatory capture" has a checkered history. It comes out of a bizarre, far-right Chicago School ideology called "Public Choice Theory," whose goal is to eliminate regulation, not fix it.

In Public Choice Theory, the biggest companies in an industry have the strongest interest in capturing the regulator, and they will work harder – and have more resources – than anyone else, be they members of the public, workers, or smaller rivals. This inevitably leads to capture, where the state becomes an arm of the dominant companies, wielded by them to prevent competition:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/06/05/regulatory-capture/

This is regulatory nihilism. It supposes that the only reason you weren't killed by your dinner, or your antilock brakes, or your collapsing roof, is that you just got lucky – and not because we have actual, good, sound regulations that use evidence to protect us from the endless lethal risks we face. These nihilists suppose that making good regulation is either a myth – like ancient Egyptian sorcery – or a lost art – like the secret to embalming Pharaohs.

But it's clearly possible to make good regulations – especially if you don't allow companies to form monopolies or cartels. What's more, failing to make public regulations isn't the same as getting rid of regulation. In the absence of public regulation, we get private regulation, run by companies themselves.

Think of Amazon. For decades, the DoJ and FTC sat idly by while Amazon assembled and fortified its monopoly. Today, Amazon is the de facto e-commerce regulator. The company charges its independent sellers 45-51% in junk fees to sell on the platform, including $31b/year in "advertising" to determine who gets top billing in your searches. Vendors raise their Amazon prices in order to stay profitable in the face of these massive fees, and if they don't raise their prices at every other store and site, Amazon downranks them to oblivion, putting them out of business.

This is the crux of the FTC's case against Amazon: that they are picking winners and setting prices across the entire economy, including at every other retailer:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/25/greedflation/#commissar-bezos

The same is true for Google/Facebook, who decide which news and views you encounter; for Apple/Google, who decide which apps you can use, and so on. The choice is never "government regulation" or "no regulation" – it's always "government regulation" or "corporate regulation." You either live by rules made in public by democratically accountable bureaucrats, or rules made in private by shareholder-accountable executives.

You just can't solve this by "voting with your wallet." Think about the problem of robocalls. Nobody likes these spam calls, and worse, they're a vector for all kinds of fraud. Robocalls are mostly a problem with federation. The phone system is a network-of-networks, and your carrier is interconnected with carriers all over the world, sometimes through intermediaries that make it hard to know which network a call originates on.

Some of these carriers are spam-friendly. They make money by selling access to spammers and scammers. Others don't like spam, but they have lax or inadequate security measures to prevent robocalls. Others will simply be targets of opportunity: so large and well-resourced that they are irresistible to bad actors, who continuously probe their defenses and exploit overlooked flaws, which are quickly patched.

To stem the robocall tide, your phone company will have to block calls from bad actors, put sloppy or lazy carriers on notice to shape up or face blocks, and also tell the difference between good companies and bad ones.

There's no way you can figure this out on your own. How can you know whether your carrier is doing a good job at this? And even if your carrier wants to do this, only the largest, most powerful companies can manage it. Rogue carriers won't give a damn if some tiny micro-phone-company threatens them with a block if they don't shape up.

This is something that a large, powerful government agency is best suited to addressing. And thankfully, we have such an agency. Two years ago, the FCC demanded that phone companies submit plans for "robocall mitigation." Now, it's taking action:

https://arstechnica.com/tech-policy/2023/10/telcos-filed-blank-robocall-plans-with-fcc-and-got-away-with-it-for-2-years/

Specifically, the FCC has identified carriers – in the US and abroad – with deficient plans. Some of these plans are very deficient. National Cloud Communications of Texas sent the FCC a Windows Printer Test Page. Evernex (Pakistan) sent the FCC its "taxpayer profile inquiry" from a Pakistani state website. Viettel (Vietnam) sent in a slide presentation entitled "Making Smart Cities Vision a Reality." Canada's Humbolt VoIP sent an "indiscernible object." DomainerSuite submitted a blank sheet of paper scrawled with the word "NOTHING."

The FCC has now notified these carriers – and others with less egregious but still deficient submissions – that they have 14 days to fix this or they'll be cut off from the US telephone network.

This is a problem you don't fix with your wallet, but with your ballot. Effective, public-interest-motivated FCC regulators are a political choice. Trump appointed the cartoonishly evil Ajit Pai to run the FCC, and he oversaw a program of neglect and malice. Pai – a former Verizon lawyer – dismantled Net Neutrality after receiving millions of obviously fraudulent comments from stolen identities, lying about it, and then obstructing the NY Attorney General's investigation into the matter:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/08/31/and-drown-it/#starve-the-beast

The Biden administration has a much better FCC – though not as good as it could be, thanks to Biden hanging Gigi Sohn out to dry in the face of a homophobic smear campaign that ultimately led one of the best qualified nominees for FCC commissioner to walk away from the process:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/12/15/useful-idiotsuseful-idiots/#unrequited-love

Notwithstanding the tragic loss of Sohn's leadership in this vital agency, Biden's FCC – and its action on robocalls – illustrates the value of elections won with ballots, not wallets.

Self-regulation without state regulation inevitably devolves into farce. We're a quarter of a century into the commercial internet and the US still doesn't have a modern federal privacy law. The closest we've come is a disclosure rule, where companies can make up any policy they want, provided they describe it to you.

It doesn't take a genius to figure out how to cheat on this regulation. It's so simple, even a Meta lawyer can figure it out – which is why the Meta Quest VR headset has a privacy policy isn't merely awful, but long.

It will take you five hours to read the whole document and discover how badly you're being screwed. Go ahead, "do your own research":

https://foundation.mozilla.org/en/privacynotincluded/articles/annual-creep-o-meter/

The answer to bad regulation is good regulation, and the answer to incompetent regulators is competent ones. As Michael Lewis's Fifth Risk (published after Trump filled the administrative agencies with bootlickers, sociopaths and crooks) documented, these jobs demand competence:

https://memex.craphound.com/2018/11/27/the-fifth-risk-michael-lewis-explains-how-the-deep-state-is-just-nerds-versus-grifters/

For example, Lewis describes how a Washington State nuclear waste facility created as part of the Manhattan Project endangers the Columbia River, the source of 8 million Americans' drinking water. The nuclear waste cleanup is projected to take 100 years and cost 100 billion dollars. With stakes that high, we need competent bureaucrats overseeing the job.

The hacky conservative jokes comparing every government agency to the DMV are not descriptive so much as prescriptive. By slashing funding, imposing miserable working conditions, and demonizing the people who show up for work anyway, neoliberals have chased away many good people, and hamstrung those who stayed.

One of the most inspiring parts of the Biden administration is the large number of extremely competent, extremely principled agency personnel he appointed, and the speed and competence they've brought to their roles, to the great benefit of the American public:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/10/18/administrative-competence/#i-know-stuff

But leaders can only do so much – they also need staff. 40 years of attacks on US state capacity has left the administrative state in tatters, stretched paper-thin. In an excellent article, Noah Smith describes how a starveling American bureaucracy costs the American public a fortune:

https://www.noahpinion.blog/p/america-needs-a-bigger-better-bureaucracy

Even stripped of people and expertise, the US government still needs to get stuff done, so it outsources to nonprofits and consultancies. These are the source of much of the expense and delay in public projects. Take NYC's Second Avenue subway, a notoriously overbudget and late subway extension – "the most expensive mile of subway ever built." Consultants amounted to 20% of its costs, double what France or Italy would have spent. The MTA used to employ 1,600 project managers. Now it has 124 of them, overseeing $20b worth of projects. They hand that money to consultants, and even if they have the expertise to oversee the consultants' spending, they are stretched too thin to do a good job of it:

https://slate.com/business/2023/02/subway-costs-us-europe-public-transit-funds.html

When a public agency lacks competence, it ends up costing the public more. States with highly expert Departments of Transport order better projects, which need fewer changes, which adds up to massive costs savings and superior roads:

https://papers.ssrn.com/sol3/papers.cfm?abstract_id=4522676

Other gaps in US regulation are plugged by nonprofits and citizen groups. Environmental rules like NEPA rely on the public to identify and object to environmental risks in public projects, from solar plants to new apartment complexes. NEPA and its state equivalents empower private actors to sue developers to block projects, even if they satisfy all environmental regulations, leading to years of expensive delay.

The answer to this isn't to dismantle environmental regulations – it's to create a robust expert bureaucracy that can enforce them instead of relying on NIMBYs. This is called "ministerial approval" – when skilled government workers oversee environmental compliance. Predictably, NIMBYs hate ministerial approval.

Which is not to say that there aren't problems with trusting public enforcers to ensure that big companies are following the law. Regulatory capture is real, and the more concentrated an industry is, the greater the risk of capture. We are living in a moment of shocking market concentration, thanks to 40 years of under-regulation:

https://www.openmarketsinstitute.org/learn/monopoly-by-the-numbers

Remember that five-hour privacy policy for a Meta VR headset? One answer to these eye-glazing garbage novellas presented as "privacy policies" is to simply ban certain privacy-invading activities. That way, you can skip the policy, knowing that clicking "I agree" won't expose you to undue risk.

This is the approach that Bennett Cyphers and I argue for in our EFF white-paper, "Privacy Without Monopoly":

https://www.eff.org/wp/interoperability-and-privacy

After all, even the companies that claim to be good for privacy aren't actually very good for privacy. Apple blocked Facebook from spying on iPhone owners, then sneakily turned on their own mass surveillance system, and lied about it:

https://pluralistic.net/2022/11/14/luxury-surveillance/#liar-liar

But as the European experiment with the GDPR has shown, public administrators can't be trusted to have the final word on privacy, because of regulatory capture. Big Tech companies like Google, Apple and Facebook pretend to be headquartered in corporate crime havens like Ireland and Luxembourg, where the regulators decline to enforce the law:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/05/15/finnegans-snooze/#dirty-old-town

It's only because of the GPDR has a private right of action – the right of individuals to sue to enforce their rights – that we're finally seeing the beginning of the end of commercial surveillance in Europe:

https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2022/07/americans-deserve-more-current-american-data-privacy-protection-act

It's true that NIMBYs can abuse private rights of action, bringing bad faith cases to slow or halt good projects. But just as the answer to bad regulations is good ones, so too is the answer to bad private rights of action good ones. SLAPP laws have shown us how to balance vexatious litigation with the public interest:

https://www.rcfp.org/resources/anti-slapp-laws/

We must get over our reflexive cynicism towards public administration. In my book The Internet Con, I lay out a set of public policy proposals for dismantling Big Tech and putting users back in charge of their digital lives:

https://www.versobooks.com/products/3035-the-internet-con

The most common objection I've heard since publishing the book is, "Sure, Big Tech has enshittified everything great about the internet, but how can we trust the government to fix it?"

We've been conditioned to think that lawmakers are too old, too calcified and too corrupt, to grasp the technical nuances required to regulate the internet. But just because Congress isn't made up of computer scientists, it doesn't mean that they can't pass good laws relating to computers. Congress isn't full of microbiologists, but we still manage to have safe drinking water (most of the time).

You can't just "do the research" or "vote with your wallet" to fix the internet. Bad laws – like the DMCA, which bans most kinds of reverse engineering – can land you in prison just for reconfiguring your own devices to serve you, rather than the shareholders of the companies that made them. You can't fix that yourself – you need a responsive, good, expert, capable government to fix it.

We can have that kind of government. It'll take some doing, because these questions are intrinsically hard to get right even without monopolies trying to capture their regulators. Even a president as flawed as Biden can be pushed into nominating good administrative personnel and taking decisive, progressive action:

https://doctorow.medium.com/joe-biden-is-headed-to-a-uaw-picket-line-in-detroit-f80bd0b372ab?sk=f3abdfd3f26d2f615ad9d2f1839bcc07

Biden may not be doing enough to suit your taste. I'm certainly furious with aspects of his presidency. The point isn't to lionize Biden – it's to point out that even very flawed leaders can be pushed into producing benefit for the American people. Think of how much more we can get if we don't give up on politics but instead demand even better leaders.

My next novel is The Lost Cause, coming out on November 14. It's about a generation of people who've grown up under good government – a historically unprecedented presidency that has passed the laws and made the policies we'll need to save our species and planet from the climate emergency:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865939/the-lost-cause

The action opens after the pendulum has swung back, with a new far-right presidency and an insurgency led by white nationalist militias and their offshore backers – seagoing anarcho-capitalist billionaires.

In the book, these forces figure out how to turn good regulations against the people they were meant to help. They file hundreds of simultaneous environmental challenges to refugee housing projects across the country, blocking the infill building that is providing homes for the people whose homes have been burned up in wildfires, washed away in floods, or rendered uninhabitable by drought.

I don't want to spoil the book here, but it shows how the protagonists pursue a multipronged defense, mixing direct action, civil disobedience, mass protest, court challenges and political pressure to fight back. What they don't do is give up on state capacity. When the state is corrupted by wreckers, they claw back control, rather than giving up on the idea of a competent and benevolent public system.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2023/10/23/getting-stuff-done/#praxis

[zer0pm]

Imagine being an undercover agent who once infiltrated Umbrella and grew close to Luis Serra. You were forced to separate from him, never telling him why and broke his heart in the process. When you thought that you have finally moved on, you find him again. Tied up in a sack.

“What’s in Spain?”

“My home. A village, to be exact. And remote. The people there could use people like us to help them. No one would be able to find us there. Not even Umbrella. There, we can disappear.”

“…I’m sorry, Luis. I can’t.”

.

“You seem distracted.”

“What?” you blink, immediately biting your tongue after. But it was too late, you were caught red-handed.

“Case in point,” your partner Leon sighs. “So, what is it? What’s on your mind?”

You reply with a frown, “I’m wondering how deep these tunnels go. Must have something important down here for these… villagers to go through the trouble of trying to lock it up inconspicuously.”

It was such a blatant lie, the blond’s stony expression showed that he wasn’t buying it at all. But Leon doesn’t say anything. Instead, he leads on with his gun and flashlight pointing forward in the darkness. You were relieved that he didn’t press further.

But he’s also right. You were distracted and on a mission where a steady, focused mind is imperative at all times. Mulling over the past on things that were best laid forgotten is meaningless and offered no benefit to the task at hand. So why bother even allowing it to weigh so heavily in your thoughts?

Because what are the odds that this is the same place that he mentioned? The one that he wanted to hide away with you within? Given everything you’ve seen so far, with all these monsters roaming about, you sincerely hope not. Surely this is all coincidental and that he is in some other part of Spain.

.

“You mentioned that you grew up in Spain, right? What was it like there?”

“Oh? For once you don’t want to talk about work or whatever ingenius discoveries I’ve made recently? Pero, you actually want to engage in small talk? It must be a sign!”

“Answer the question or I’m requesting a department change.”

“Calma, calma. I only tease. Hmm… The weather can be unforgiving, especially during the rainy season. The people live day-to-day on whatever resources that can grow or be found under the constantly harsh conditions. Sickness often spreads and the treatment is… archaic.”

“This all sounds awful.”

“It wasn’t all bad. Everyone in our small community had someone to support them. I had my grandfather. He helped shape me to be the man I am today. A very handsome man at that, with both brains and brawn. In case, you didn’t notice already.”

“He must be very proud of you.”

“I hope so...”

“You don’t keep in touch?”

“So interested in my life story all of a sudden. And yet I still know so little of yours.”

“What’s there to know? There’s not much to tell.”

“See, that is where you’re wrong, my friend. A key to a great story is time to gather your thoughts. And I wouldn’t mind making time to listen to yours. How does after work sound? There’s an excellent coffee spot around the corner.”

“…You know what? A drink sounds great.”

.

You should have rejected him then and there. The task was only to gather information and find evidence of the production of biochemical weaponry. Forming attachments was not part of the job. But you couldn’t find it in yourself to deny him then, convincing yourself that it was necessary to reinforce your cover. You were seen as just a researcher forging deep interpersonal relationships with your fellow coworker and not at all a spy for the government sent to infiltrate a pharmaceutical giant for secrets that could topple a nation.

No one suspected a thing- not Umbrella, not your handlers, not even him. It worked. But it didn’t make you feel any less guilty about it, especially when you developed real feelings for him and he reciprocated them earnestly and affectionately. At first, you meant to play along with no intention of taking him seriously. The Spanish researcher expressed himself as a man who talks a big game but settles down or folds over for no one. He had a reputation within the labs as a serial flirt after all.

However, the day he casually asked you out, he surprised you. Beneath all the playful, charming remarks and practiced come-hither smirks belied a genuine romantic. He was a man passionate about his work, driven by a real desire to help others. He cared about other people, evident at how intently he listened to you when your shared bits of yourself to him. Granted, much of what you said then was fabricated to uphold your secret identity, but he showed unwavering interest in you and the image you created as if you two were only people in that coffee shop that mattered. After one date came another, then another, then another until you lost count. You fell for him and you fell for him hard. And before you knew it, at his suggestion, the two of you moved in together.

It was a dream. A wonderful dream. You couldn’t remember the last time you lived a normal life, let alone someone to come home to. It was such a domestic feeling. To go wit him to work by day then go home together by night to fall asleep in each other’s arms and do it all over again the following morning. To fall into a routine was strange and something you grew affectionately accustomed to. And it was all because of him. He made you feel safe. He made you feel loved. He made you feel normal. But it was only a dream. And all dreams eventually come to an end.

It got to a point where you dug yourself so deep that by the time you had to shed your identity and leave him, it left scars that neither of you would ever recover from.

.

“¿Qué? What do you mean, you can’t?”

“I can’t go to Spain with you.”

“Is it the location? We can go anywhere you want,l, but we have to make sure we hide our tracks from Umbrella-”

“I mean that I can’t go with you. Anywhere. Period.”

“¿Mande? Why.”

“I want to tell you, I really do.”

“…Tú no me quieres.”

“No! Of course I do.”

“Then why? Why can’t you run away with me? I can protect us, you just have to trust-”

“This isn’t about trust.”

“Then tell me what it is!”

“…This isn’t going to work. I’m sorry, I have to go.”

“L-Lo siento, mi corazon. I didn’t meant to shout. We can work through this-”

“Just please remember that what we had was real.”

“¡Amor!”

“Goodbye, Luis.”

.

That was the last time you saw him. You broke his heart, the pieces of yours shattered away with every step that you took away from him. Revisiting those memories all caused a single tear to fall down your cheek.

You have to move on. It’s been long enough. It was all to protect him, you told yourself countless times. In your line of work, attachments just do not (and cannot) stick. And you stuck with that choice without an ounce of regret. You only hope that wherever Luis is now, he’s happy and safe. That alone kept you going.

When you finally broke yourself out of your daze, you found yourself facing a wall. You quietly berated yourself for your absentmindedness again and were grateful for the darkness. Luckily, your fellow agent didn’t notice you or your inner turmoil, something else catching his attention at the end of the tunnel.

“Over here. I found someone.”

Your head snaps towards Leon’s direction, your heartache momentarily dulled and set aside. “Ashley Graham?”

“Don’t know yet,” Leon replies, crouching down. “Here, hold the light.”

You hurry over to the blond’s side, taking the flashlight from him and directing it towards his finding. A large sack, big enough for a person, was flailing about. The sound of muffled struggling reaches your ears. Leon unties the top of the thick cloth before pulling it down. You almost didn’t believe what, or rather, who you were seeing. But your eyes were blown wide in recognition before Leon rips the tape off of their mouth. There was no mistaking those rugged features, that dark hair, and those grey eyes that you fell in love with helplessly so long ago.

It was him. The man that haunted your every thoughts and dreams. The man that dug his way into your heart and made a home there.

Luis Serra Navarro.

“Oh no, not you.”

The man merely gazes back at you, momentarily stunned before chuckling in that husky voice of his that you thought you’d never hear again.

“I’ve missed you too, mi corazon,” he says. His eyes glide over your form lasciviously, uncaring that you (and your partner) can see him staring shamelessly. He looked and smiled at you as if the years spent apart never happened. “Te ves bien.”

You had so many questions.

.

.

.

A/N: Part Two can be found right here~

[chinomiko]

hi! i know it must be kinga boring for you recive questions about castiel bc ppl are obsessed ober him for years but like the other person who asked you a few days ago, i follow you (and ply mcl) for like 10 years and ever since day one my fav boy has been tiel. till this day at the age of 22 he's my favorite and my comfort boy so i joke that he's not a fictional character anymore for me and that i know him personally at this point lol

with that being said, i bet you can imagine that over the years i've been elaborating his personality beyond what the game gives us but he's your boy, you created him therefore you know him and your word is canon, so i'd like to ask a few stuff!! nothing too big, dont worry but here we go.

tiel is an amazing songwriter and since he's very emotional not very good at express it (he does it a lot better now that he's an adult 🥹) i bet his lyricism is very deep and poetic so i have this headcanon that he at first wouldn't like taylor swift because obviously lol but then he payed attention to her lyrics and ends up basically being a swiftie since he likes her writing a lot. what you think about that?

and what kind of music crowstorm sings? like there are any bands that you listen and think "hey this would be in a crowstorm album!" (i have a playlist with this name btw lol). im probably wrong on this one but since this is my fav band i like to think that catfish and the bottlemen are the irl crowstorm, musically speaking

and the last one: another thing that gives me so much comfort is the lystiel friendship. not having present parents, being so closed off i know that lysander is such an important presence on tiel's life because he was basically the only close person he had (specially after the debrah fiasco); if lys didnt had taken the farm and went to college and bla bla bla do you think he would still be part of the band with castiel? im not sure if im mixing the canon with a fanfic i read a while ago (lol) but the band was more of a fun thing to lys, right? he liked writing most (i always imagined him getting into a literature degree or something like this). i also like to think that he helps tiel with lyrics at times, even if he's out of the band (in my head the canon is that they are best friends and pretty close till this day, i pretend lys never left our lives just like armin)

anyways sorry for this big ask 😭 i dont even know if you will read it all but if you do, thank you! and dont feel like you have to answer, i know its too much its just that mcl is my hyperfixation till this day like for real, i have a fanfic that i write still and i even plan on making it into a book sometime. except from the main characters (who is my oc) all the characters will be based on the game's ones :)

ilysm take care and stay hydrated!!

Hellow !

Aww thank you so much and for all your love for Castiel ^^

What a long ask, I'll try to answer in order.

Castiel being a swiftie. No sorry, I don't think he would be. If candy likes her, I'm pretty sure he would try to listen. Also he is an open minded person for sure, so I'm sure he would be curious to listen and study what all the hype is about, it could also help as some sort of far away inspiration, but I don't see him being a fan.

What kind of songs Crowstorm sings This is hard to answer because my musical knowledge is pretty limited and I'm sure I would miss on lot of potential groups or singers that would fit well. And it would require too much research time to have a real detailed and clear answer, but I still did check a bit and here is a little list of songs/groups that I think would have a fitting vibe for Crowstorm

City of the dead - Hollywood Undead The worst in me - bad omens Paranoid - I prevail Trauma Just pretend - Bad omens Ice Nine Kills - A grave mistake Catfish and the bottlemen sounds nice but I think its a bit too soft for what I imagine for Crowstorm.

What is his voice like I think something similar to this (not necessarily the song itself, just the voice. )

bonus, I think this song is so so fitting for Castiel's breakup song, I love it. Dial Tone - Catch your breath

Castiel and Lys friendship. It was'nt mentionned much in UL/LL because I didnt wish to bring too much drama by mentioning Lys when he was not there for the players, but of course Lys and Cast always kept in touch. It is very clearly mentionned in Lys' AL that they keep in touch, that Lys helps Castiel write songs and Cast also like to come to his farm to have a break and spend time together. You should play it if you havent, you'll have a good chunk of Cast and Lys friendship :) However yeah I can confirm that Lys would not like to do it serisouly and professionally, but he'll be all the way around to support and help Cast.

[acciopietro]

doctor pt. 3

pairing: namor x fem! reader

summary: you take an opportunity despite the repercussions. namor’s determination to protect his people blinds him.

part one part two part four

word count: 6,939

tw: lots and lots of death. forced suicide (because of the talokanil sirens). the typically stuff. lots of angsty and sadness

a/n: i was listening to happiness is a butterfly while writing so this took a turn for sure... it took a hot minute but i hope you enjoy nonetheless!! i’m nervous ab this so pls let me know your honest opinions...it kind of took a turn 

part one part two

IT REALLY ONLY TOOK ONE email to make your heart drop. It was a phone call and a series of texts, too, but it was the email that did it for you. Arial, Size 12 font, formal greeting, body paragraph, half-hearted thank you, polite goodbye. Signed Doctor Reynolds, Ph.D., with the name of your team and company. Message subject: Wakanda.

You read it with vigilant eyes, still hands resting on the metal of your laptop, blue light from the screen casting a cool glow onto your tired skin. The music in your earbuds continued to play, but the sound of The Weeknd wasn’t helping calm the way your heart’s steady beat began to pick up. The words on the email flashed out at you as if they were bolded: Wakanda, harvesting, vibranium, testing, trip. Trip?

“Hi, Doctor Reynolds,” you spoke casually into your telephone, despite your palms sweating around the handle of it. Twisting the coiled cord of it with your index finger, you said, “Yeah, I just got the email. I just had some questions...”

Long story short, a team of marine scientists had ventured into the pacific, delving into the deep seas in search of the vibranium you had found a little over a year ago. You had abandoned that research per Namor’s (tacit) request (more like demand), however, you had known that it was bound to be looked at at some point. The issue was that ships were now apparently being hijacked, their tracking machines being destroyed under water as well as large groups of scientists somehow falling off ship and into the waters to their tragic death. No one knew why.

Reynolds believed Wakanda had something to do with it. He believed that since they were well known for being the sole producers and protectors of all the Earth’s vibranium, he was under the impression that they were trying to stop the United States scientists from harvesting it. Which, you had thought to yourself, would be plausible considering the United States was notorious for taking things that weren’t necessarily theirs.

“Why are we getting involved?” you asked Reynold, gripping your scalp anxiously as you listened to Reynolds explain the situation. “It’s not like if we take a boat out there, we, somehow, will miraculously end up okay. If boats are being hijacked, then... oh, I don’t know...”

Reynold went on and on.

“Wait... you mean to tell me that you already booked it?” you shrilled. “Please excuse me if I’m stepping out of line here, but it’s very likely that our boat will just get hijacked, too. And besides, why do we care so much about vibranium, again? It doesn’t harm any marine life or ecosystems...”

Reynolds spewed a bunch of nonsensical answers, beating around the bush and never quite landing on the reason you know was true: getting money and getting power. Often the root of many of Reynolds’s aspirations.

“You’re more than welcome to deny the job,” Reynold says. “But I’ve decided that I want you on that boat. You’re a useful member of this team. Whether you like it or not, this could be very big.”

You clenched your jaw. “I’ll think about it.”

“You’ve got a week.”

You had only been home from Yucatán for one month. You had a wonderful four months of being with your sister and her family in the days and sneaking off with your man from the sea at night. You couldn’t have gotten closer to Namor; well, unless he took off his shorts and... well, you wouldn’t let him do it, anyways. He had asked. A few times. More than a few times. But for some reason, you just couldn’t do it. For starters, you weren’t on the pill and you were sure there wasn’t contraception under the sea (you asked if he had a condom one time, and he asked you what language that word was in. For someone who is immortal, he sure didn’t know a lot). 

You felt like sleeping with him for real for real would make things realer. It made him more of a commitment, gave him more power. And you told yourself you wouldn’t let it happen unless you were absolutely sure that he deserved it. It was really hard to say no sometimes, though. He sure knew how to persuade you.

Accepting the job and getting on the damn boat would for sure cause an issue if Namor found out. You didn’t want to search for vibranium, especially knowing the damage it would do to Wakanda if the United States got access to such a resource, and to Talokan if the States got knowledge of their existence. But... Reynolds personally invited you, and it could do wonders for your career if it went well. 

“I don’t see why not,” your sister said when you told her of your predicament the next day. “I mean, I understand the hesitation, especially if boats are being hijacked. But who knows, maybe they’ll get an Avenger and put them on board with you to keep you safe. Hopefully it’s Captain America.”

“As much as I’d love to have Sam Wilson on a boat with me for two weeks, I’m still not sure,” you groaned, plopping down onto your couch and opening up your laptop, the blue light hitting your face as you held your phone against your ear with your shoulder. Scrolling through the news, you said, “It just feels like a thing just for money. And, like, yeah, it is, but I... wait a second...”

You stopped scrolling, eyes casting across the headline of the latest CNN article, your lips falling apart. Wakanda’s King T’Challah dead at 41.

“Oh my gosh,” you breathed. Your sister asked you what it was on the other side of the phone, and you hastily forwarded the article to hear. She cursed, and both of you fell silent as you read. “Jesus Christ. I can’t go on that boat.”

---

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU won’t get on the boat?” asked Reynolds the followed week when you went into office. You shook your head, clenching your jaw.

“King T’Challah just died,” you told him matter-of-factly. “And if there really is more vibranium out there, and the States gets access to it, that’ll do a lot of damage to Wakanda.”

“We are not giving the States access to it,” Reynolds furrowed his brow, the hair of his grey mustache fluttering as he spoke. “We’re just figuring out how much of its in the water. It’s not our job to start harvesting it, that’s up to Archeology.”

“It doesn’t matter who does what,” you said feverishly. “We’re still helping do something that will eventually lead to bad things for Wakanda. And I don’t feel comfortable doing that, especially after their king just passed away.”

Reynolds narrowed his eyes at you, and said nothing before circling around to his desk and clicking the mouse of his computer. You blinked, watching him search around for something with a stern face. You waited a minute for him to speak, and when he didn’t, you cleared your throat.

“Sir..?”

“Look, L/N,” Reynolds looked at you from over his bifocals. “I understand where you stand on these more... well, political aspects of the job. But this is a big opportunity I’m offering you. If you decline, fine, but I’ll know that you’re not up to the task. I’ll give the job to Quade.”

You clenched your jaw, feeling something bubble in your stomach. Ugh, you thought. Quade. He was the worst. You knew it was wrong to take this job. Morally, it was wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

“Okay,” you sighed defeatedly. “I’ll... I’ll do it.”

“Good,” Reynolds gave you a nod and stopped typing. He pressed the delete button and held it down. “I can get rid of this email to Quade then. We leave Friday. Back your bags and tell your family you love ‘em.”

---

UNDER THE THRASHING WAVES OF the Gulf of Mexico sat a king on his throne, his forearms resting on his strong, tensed thighs as he read a piece of torn paper. He had to put the paper under pieces of surface-dweller plastic so the pages didn’t fall apart under the water, but even still, the ink had smeared a bit. Nonetheless, Namor sat, his jaw clenched, and he read.

Namor, the letter read. 

Hopefully this letter got to you all right-- my niece isn’t always too reliable. I’m writing to you in an attempt to explain myself so you don’t find out from other sources. Some people from my team will be sailing out into the Gulf with another team that’s mining for vibranium. I wanted to deny the job, but I need to take whatever opportunities they throw my way if I want to keep my head above water. I’m going to do my best to protect you and your people, but there’s only so much I can do. I’m sorry. Really, I am. If there’s anything I can do that you can think of (without totally tarnishing my reputation and/or getting fired), find a way to let me know, and I’ll do it. Again, I’m really sorry. I hope you can forgive me. Hopefully I’ll see you soon.

Sincerely Apologetically Love

From, Y/N

Namor gripped the paper tight between his calloused, jewelry covered hands. Lifting his head, he glanced up at his people, the civilization they had built together, the vibranium everyone wore. He glanced at the chest plate he wore, the cuffs around his arms, at the vibranium he wore. It was everything.

He clenched his jaw, bowing his head and pinching the bridge of his nose. He laid the paper down on his lap, squeezing his eyes shut to think. 

“Namora!” he called out hastily, and after a little over a minute, the woman emerged into the space and walked up to him, standing before his throne. She knelt, opening up her palms to him in a greeting before standing up. “K'abéet in actualizaciones yóok'ol le láak' rastreador. Yaan in biin ta wéetel (I need updates on the next tracker. I’ll be going with you).”

---

THE DRIVE TO THE PORT was peaceful, palm trees swaying in the breeze and reminding you that, although it wasn’t Mexico, you were appreciative for the beauty and pleasantries of the place you lived in. Florida, with all of its ups and downs-- and you meant all of them-- was nice. The giant boat was astonishing once your Uber pulled up. People were hustling and bustling about the port, and you simply stared up at the giant ship, clutching the strap of your bag and admiring its beauty.

“Ah, Doctor L/N, good to see you. All packed?” asked Doctor Mishra, one of the men of the group who you actually liked to be around. You were thankful he was on the trip. “Boat’s giant, no?”

“Oh, yeah,” you whistled. “Y’know, I’ve never been on a boat like this.”

“I’ve been on a couple of cruises,” Doctor Mishra told you. “Wonderful vacations. However, we will not be waited on on this boat.”

“Fine with me,” you shrugged. “Do we just... go inside, or what?”

“Not sure,” he said. Smiling, he heaved his duffel bag over his shoulder and said, “Let’s find out!

Everything went smoothly for the first week and three days. All the men had to share rooms with at least one other person, and you were lucky enough that everyone agreed that you should have the single room. Your research seemed to be going fairly, however, you never caught a glimpse of the research of the others aside from Doctor Mishra, who you were doing a lot of your work with these days.

One evening, after a nice warm shower, you ventured out onto the deck of the ship, letting the ocean breeze cool your warm cheeks. You caught a glimpse, however, of Dr. Reynolds and Bernstein exchanging words on the deck, standing quite close and speaking under their breaths. You crept closer around the corner, trying to eavesdrop. 

“We found it around thirty-five miles from the west tip of Cuba, so we’re thinking if we move closer towards Cancún and Yucatán and all that, we’ll find more,” Bernstein said quietly but firmly. Reynolds nodded his head in understanding.

“But what of the machines?” he asked. “The last one was destroyed, you said, signal lost?”

“Something’s hungry down there,” Bernstein shrugged. “Or however far down the vibranium is, it’s too deep for our computers. We need higher tech to harvest it.”

Your stomach turned. The team wasn’t supposed to be thinking about harvesting vibranium. Reynolds had told you that was up to Archaeology. You gulped and kept listening, fighting the urge to jump out and ask a million questions.

"I’m in contact with some people up north who’ve got new stuff that could work,” Reynolds scratched his white beard pensively. “They’ve had limited success too, but it could be helpful.”

“Us getting this vibranium could change the game,” Bernstein said emphatically. “I mean, can you imagine if the government realized we had this stuff? They’d pay us a lot of money to take it off our hands.”

“This is more than just money, Bernstein,” Reynolds said lowly. “If Wakanda found out that the States got hold of the one thing they’ve got on us? We’re back on top.”

“Holy shit,” Bernstein ran a hand through his oily blonde hair and grinned. “I went into the right profession, that’s for damn sure!”

“Yes, well, let’s just see what the other men have gathered in the past week and compare,” Reynolds told him. “Maybe there’s something right under our noses that we haven’t noticed.”

You clenched your jaw and stepped out from behind the corner. You squeezed a fist in one hand to prevent yourself from lashing out, and it wasn’t until you cleared your throat that the two men noticed you.

“Oh, L/N!” Reynolds gave a gasp of surprise and then a chuckle. “Wasn’t expecting you to be out so late. Isn’t it past your bedtime?”

“I don’t have a bedtime, sir, I’m a grown woman,” you said firmly. “But you’ve got about twenty years on me, so I’m confused as to why you’re not in bed either.”

Bernstein and Reynolds shared a glance.

“I’m also confused about all this I’m hearing about harvesting vibranium,” you said, not saying anything for a heartbeat to give them room to defend themselves. “I didn’t think that was what we were doing here. I also thought that as a team we were supposed to be, I don’t know, working together?”

“Look, L/N, you’ve got your own research, and so do we. We chose not to include you because you, for some reason, seemed very against delving deeper into this vibranium business,” Reynolds explained in a slow and calm voice as if he were speaking to a child. “This could be very lucrative for us and helpful for American forces.”

“You’re hiding shit from everyone,” you spat.

“No, I’m not,” Reynolds sneered. “Just from you.”

As if someone had pressed a button, all of a sudden Reynolds and Bernstein stood upright, their faces blank, eyes fogged over. You furrowed your brow and snapped in front of the former's face. A song began to echo the ship, as if someone was playing it on the loudspeakers, and you glanced around as if to see if someone else noticed it. 

You glanced up to the top deck, where a man stood next to a large scope. He was walking very uniformly, his face blank as well, and you watched as he continued to walk and walk and walk until--

You screamed bloody murder. The man walked until he reached the railing, where he hopped over it and simply threw himself off the ledge and into the depths of the ocean below. Breathing heavily, you whipped yourself around and watched as Reynolds, mesmerized by the song, began to walk towards the railing, Bernstein at his heels.

“No!” you cried, grabbing ahold of Reynolds’s arm to hold him back; he thrashed himself out of your grasp and climbed over the railing. You grappled at the back of his shirt, trying to tug him back, but he too, like a rag doll, plummeted into the crashing waves below. Bernstein was looming closer to the railing, and you wrapped your arms around his torso to hold him back.

You kept seeing men out of the corner of your eyes walk over the edge and throw themselves into the sea. You hadn’t realized it, but tears were pricking out of the corners of your eyes as you mustered up all your strength to try and hold Bernstein back from the edge.

“Snap-- out-- of-- it!” you cried, and brought one of your hands to slap him clean across the face. To no avail. Balling up a fist, you let go of him and stood between him and the railing; you wound up your arm and socked him clean across the face, to which he toppled onto his back. Blood was now seeping from his nose, but at least he wasn’t walking to his death. 

You squinted out into the sea, to try and figure out the source of the sound, but all you saw was the water and the midnight blue horizon. A groan from behind you alerted your attention; you dropped to your knees, shaking Bernstein awake.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” you cried. He wiped his nose, the blood staining the sleeve of his white shirt.

“You fuckin’ punched me!” Bernstein muffled, sitting upright and punching you straight across the face, hard enough for you to topple back onto the deck. He got to his feet, and as if nothing had happened, his face became blank again. You groaned, sitting upright and clutching your bleeding nose as he walked towards the railing again. 

“No, no-- stop!” you called out, getting to your feet, but it was too late; Bernstein climbed over the railing and fell face first into the ocean. You saw the tail of a dolphin in the distance as his body disappeared, and you squeezed your eyes shut, covering your face with your hands, blood from your nose seeping through your fingers. “Jesus christ, what the fuck? What the actual fuck? What the fuck is happening?”

SPLASH! You drew your hands away from your face, and to your horror, saw the fins of sharks circling around the boat, the occasional tale of a dolphin, or the splashes of other marine life you couldn’t identify from so far away. The beating of your heart was so fast that at this rate you were sure you could die of a heart attack. Unable to take your eyes away from the sea of troubles below you, you were terrified to see the body of a whale rise close enough to the surface for you to see, and what shocked you the most was the outline of a person riding on its back. Your jaw dropped.

Without a second thought, you sprinted towards the hatch that led to the inside of the ship. You ran at top speed across the creaky wooden floor until you reached your room, grabbing your bag that held your journal, your phone, your laptop, and your camera. A knock at your door made you jump and almost yelp.

“It’s just me,” it was Doctor Mishra, his hair disheveled and his eyes wild. He had on a large pair of earmuffs. “Are you okay? Your nose is bleeding!”

“No!” you practically screeched. “I just fucking watched the entire crew kill themselves!”

“Everyone?”

“Well, I don’t know about everyone,” you stammered, shoving anything and everything important to you into your bag. You grabbed the printed map of the gulf, with annotations and drawings and other kinds of markings, and rolled it quickly before shoving it into your bag. Picking up your taser, you blinked at it before shoving it into your bag, too. “Bernstein and Reynolds are gone, same with the rest of the crew on the deck, and the man from the mast, and the--”

“Slow down,” Mishra said to you, squatting down next to you and handing you his handkerchief for your nose. “There’s almost no signal, and the only ways we can send out an S.O.S. are either from the red flare device on the mast, or by the radio in the control room.”

“Okay,” you breathed, putting the straps of your bag over your shoulders and tightening it so it wouldn’t fall off, wiping your nose despite it continuing to bleed. “But... what if we get all weird too and try and walk off?”

“Here,” Mishra fumbled with something in his pocket: wired earbuds. “Plug them into your phone and blast some music. Should do the trick. My earmuffs worked pretty well.”

You grabbed the earbuds from him, untangling them before plugging them into your ears. Grabbing your phone, you shuffled a playlist and turned up the volume. Mishra beckoned you to follow him out the door, to which you complied, Tyler, the Creator’s “ARE WE STILL FRIENDS?” blaring from the earbuds. Not the time, you thought, but you couldn’t afford to stand there a pick a good song for the occasion.

“I’ll head up to the mast,” you offered. “The control room is safer for you since it’s pretty contained.”

“Are you sure?” he asked. “The mast is insanely high, you could get hurt.”

You clenched your jaw. “It’s fine. I’ll send out the flares. Good luck, okay?”

“Take care of yourself,” Mishra told you firmly. “Meet back on the deck in ten minutes or so.”

You nodded and turned, sprinting back up onto the deck and opening the hatch. There were people on the deck, with beautiful feathered headdresses and jaded armor. You stared at them for a moment, but before they could see you, you ran behind one of the poles, trying to focus on getting up to the mast. The ladder was on the other side of the deck, leading you to inch your way around the center portion until you could find the ladder with your eyes.

There were tons of the soldiers across the deck, running around, whispering to one another. They all held massive, sharp spears, the jade and gold glinting under the pale moonlight. It reminded you of Namor, you thought, until you realized it was possible they were his people. As much as you trusted him, you didn’t trust the spears; you weren’t about to risk your life, and even Doctor Mishra’s life, just to reunite with the man from the sea. 

You bolted towards the ladder, grabbing the bars and climbing up it with no hesitation. Someone from below shouted something. You didn’t look down, moving at a speed you were sure you had never moved at before, until you reached the top level where the light machine and the red flare device were located. You practically threw yourself onto the bright red button, pressing it over and over again so tens of red flares shot up into the night sky.

Your earbuds were playing Childish Gambino, now, and despite it being one of your favorite songs of all time, you couldn’t find it in you to enjoy it. You kept pressing the button, red flare after red flare firing into the sky. People were shouting from below you, in a language you couldn’t decipher, especially with “Me and Your Mama” blasting into your ears.

You took a brief moment to glance at the deck, peering over the railing. Someone was climbing up the mast, the gold of their armor glinting under the light of the mast. You panicked, unzipped your bag and grabbed your taser. You ran to the other side of the table-like desk in the center of the platform and crouched behind it.

Feet adorned in golden-plated sandals planted onto the platform. You swallowed your breath, holding out your taser for when they rounded the desk. You cursed your earbuds; you were sure they could hear the Childish Gambino blasting from them. When they rounded the corner, you shot up and stuck out the taster onto their stomach, to which they convulsed and stumbled backwards. You pressed the red button a handful more times, but before you could act again, you felt a hand grab you by the neck and heard the cling of a blade being unsheathed.

“Suelta a arma (Drop your weapon),” the person holding you said firmly, to which you shakily dropped your taster. It clattered onto the wooden platform. The soldier let you go, your back towards the ladder, and with the shear pointed right at you, commanded, “Péeksik (Move).”

You couldn’t understand them, but you had enough context clues to understand what the soldier wanted. You caught a long enough glimpse at them to see a strange mask over their mouth and nose, water splashing around inside of it. You wanted to look for longer, but they nudged you with the butt of their spear, so without protest, you climbed down the ladder.

By the time you reached the floor of the deck, you barely had a moment of freedom before the soldier grabbed you again, holding you by the shoulders with their spear at your neck. They spoke to another soldier, the blade of the spear dangerously close to your skin. 

One of the soldiers wore a tall, orange-feathered headdress, with the same feathers donned around the necklace she wore that looked like it was made out of something woven. The soldier holding you shoved you forward, hard enough that you stumbled over your feet and almost fell flat on your face. As soon as you were released, the other soldiers circled you, spears pointed.

“Vacíe u póoj (Empty your bag),” she commanded. You blinked, not understand. At your silence, one of the soldiers poked your bag with their spear, nudging it off. You reluctantly shook it off of your shoulders, letting it fall onto the deck. “Je'e le! (Open it!)”

Another soldier poked it with your spear before another nudged you forwards. Lowering to your knees, you grabbed the back and opened the zipper pocket so the contents of your bag was visible. One of the soldiers snatched it from you, turning it upside down and shaking it so everything fell out; your map tumbled to the ground, along with your computer, camera, and journal. Cringing at the sound of your computer and camera dropping onto the deck, you made a move to stand, but the feeling of a spear pressed against the back of your neck kept you down.

The woman in the headdress, who you assumed was in charge, bent down and picked up the map, unrolling it. She ran her finger where you had outlined the hypoxic zone in red pen, the notes near the southern border of the United States, as well as the circle around your sister’s town in Yucatán.

“Talokan ma' u dibujado (Talokan is not drawn),” she said. In broken English, she read the notes and pronounced. “Hi-gh con-cen-tra-ti-on.”

You gulped, watching them interact with one another. The one behind you holding the spear to your neck said, “Ba'ax le kíins wa ma'? (Do we kill her, or not?)”

“Le ajawo' tu ya'alaj ma' u testigos (The king said no witnesses),” another soldier proclaimed. “Kíisa (Kill her).”

“Pa'atik! (Wait!)” one exclaimed, leaning down and grabbing your wrist. “Ilawil u x-oron (Look at her wrist).”

“Lelo' u Talokan (That is from Talokan),” another said, to which gasps and murmurs spun around the circle of soldiers. You squeezed your eyes shut for a moment; the word Talokan was circling your brain. Namor. These were his people. Where was he? Why were they on your ship, killing your team? About to kill you?

“K'aaba' ti' le ajawo' (Call the king),” the woman said, to which one of the soldiers held up a large conch shell. After a beat of silence, the soldier brought it up to their lips and blew through it, a loud clarion call resounding through the air. After the call ended, the woman announced to the soldiers, “Leti' jach le ts'ook viva (She is the last alive).”

“Le ajawo' yéetel complacido (The king will be pleased),” a soldier said. 

“Y/N!” came someone's voice from above. Your heart lurched when you saw Doctor Mishra from atop one of the platforms where the radio room was. You internally cursed him for revealing his presence to the soldiers. The soldiers shouted something, and one moved to go after Mishra, but before he could, a figure shot through the air towards where the doctor was.

The figure landed on the platform next to Mishra, who, before he could run away, was struck in the head with the butt of a spear; Mishra fell to the floor, alive, but unconscious. The figure flew up into the air, circled the mast, before soaring towards where you and the soldiers were, landing with a hand on the deck.

The soldiers knelt, joining their hands at the wrists and opening their palms to him. The figure moved, the wings at his angles fluttering as he stood up. Your breath caught in your throat when he set eyes on you, breaking through the circle of soldiers to stand before your kneeling figure.

“You,” was all you could breathe when Namor stared down at you, his spear gripped in his hand. His hair was slicked back with the water of the ocean, his eyes narrowed in one of the deadliest glares you had ever witnessed. A chill went up your spine.

“I gave you that because I trusted you,” Namor poked the bracelet on your wrist with the tip of his spear. Your hands were shaking now, tears pearling at the corners of your eyes. “And here you are... harvesting vibranium. Just as you promised me you would not do.”

“I... you didn’t read my letter?” you stammered out. He was scaring you. There were drops of saltwater on his eyelashes, those ebony eyes of his making you simultaneously melt with adoration and freeze with fear. “I thought... they... they lied to me, they said we were just finding the concentration, I didn’t know they were harvesting it here--”

“You lied to me,” Namor said slowly with composure. His jaw clenched. Something in his eyes changed. “You tricked me.”

“I didn’t,” you were crying now. “I didn’t. I promise, K’uk’ulkan--”

“You do not deserve to call me that,” he gave a dry scoff. He gulped. He wasn’t just angry, you saw; he was upset. Devastated. “You are now an enemy.”

“Look at the map!” you urged him, scrambling to find it. “Look at my notes! I didn’t-- it’s not even near Yucatán, it’s-- it’s just where the concentration was higher, I swear--”

“High Concentration,” the woman from before said, handing the map to Namor. He took it, unrolling it and eyeing the area you had outlined.

“What is this?” Namor asked you, not meeting your eyes. You sniffed, swallowing the frog in your throat.

“It’s-- it’s just where I found the high concentration of vibranium in the first place. I thought we were just supposed to go back to that area, in the northern Gulf, to test the concentration, and that’s what I thought we were researching! That’s what my-- that’s my project. My work.”

“Your project,” Namor repeated. 

“Remember?” you practically begged. “Remember how I spent all that time working and you stopped me from getting data? That’s what I was researching! That’s what I’m doing here! I didn’t know that fucking Bernstein and Reynolds were trying to harvest vibranium! I had no idea!”

“How am I supposed to believe you?”

You could barely catch your breath. “I-- I don’t know. My map, my computer, my journal, my goddamn phone, everything’s in there. Take it all, I don’t care. Read everything I’ve ever written, you’ll see!”

Namor bent down and picked up your journal, flipping open to the first page and starting to read. Your knees were starting to hurt from how long you’ve been sitting on them. The silence was deafening, watching him flip through the journal. He read every single word, and you tried to calm your breathing as you watched his face change as he continued to flip.

When he reached the last page, he closed the journal and held it by his side. His glare was gone; he was frowning now, refusing to look at your face. Glancing up at the soldiers, he lifted a hand, to which they lowered their spears away from you and backed up. Namor extended a hand to you as if to help you to your feet. You eyed it hesitantly, but seeing the grimace on his face, you took it and stood.

He didn’t say anything. It was like he couldn’t. He avoided your eyes, and without a word, he turned around towards the railing, resting his forearms on it with a sigh. You were still shaking, but as your fear subsided, you felt the anger bubbling up in your stomach. A drop of blood fell from your nose, touching your top lip.

“You killed everyone,” you muttered, wiping the blood off of your lip. He turned his head and said nothing. “Your people almost killed me.”

“I will do anything for my people,” he told you carefully. His voice was wavering. “If they are threatened, I do not care what it takes. I will protect them.”

You weren’t sure what to say. You walked up beside him, resting your arms on the railing, too. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see his chest rising and falling with a quick cadence, and despite not being able to hear his fast breathing, you could see he was becoming flustered.

“I pray you can find it in you to understand my motives,” he continued. You, again, said nothing. You could barely form words, your mouth dry. There was something warm on the back of your neck; you brought your hand up to touch it, only to find fresh blood on the pads of your fingers. The spears had cut you. Namor glanced over at your bloodied hand, brows twitching. He reached towards you, “Allow me to--”

You flinched back. You couldn’t look at him. He dropped his hands and bowed his head, staring at the waters below. They were calm, now, the sharks and dolphins no longer splashing about. That whale you had seen had gone, too. You willed your rapid beating heart to cease, wishing your chest would stop twisting and turning.

“I get it,” you murmured, using the collar of your shirt to wipe the last bit of blood from your nose. Namor’s head twitched up, eyes on you in less than a second. “Gotta protect your people, just like you were when you wouldn’t let me take those samples. But this... this is... what I saw...”

“If I had known you weren’t apart of it, I would never have let--”

“I wish you had trusted me,” you sniffled, finally looking at him. His ebony eyes were wider than you had ever seen them, brown brows tilted upwards in a form of desperation you would have never picture them having. He was beautiful. “My letter, I thought... I thought I explained it.”

“You did,” Now that Namor had caught your eyes, he didn’t dare look away in fear of losing them again. “You did, I... jumped to conclusions.”

“You jumped to conclusions,” you repeated, breaking the eye contact. You clenched your jaw. “So you killed my entire team.”

Namor’s mouth opened and closed like a fish for a second, unable to find proper words. “You have to understand where I’m coming from, here. These ships harvesting our vibranium-- Talokan’s vibranium-- would put us at risk. It could lead to the end of my people.”

“I know,” you sighed, closing your eyes and putting your head on your hands where they rested against the railing. The ocean’s breeze struck at your forehead, cooling your skin and blowing your hair off your face. Namor didn’t say anything, but you could feel him looming closer. You hid your face from him.

“Y/N,” he said, his voice so soft you almost didn’t hear him over the breeze. “Please look at me.”

After a prolonged second, you lifted your head from your arms, the breeze chilling the tears that had rolled down your cheeks. You couldn’t meet his eyes. You couldn’t bear it.

“Take me home,” you said quietly. He blinked. “Please.”

“To... to Yucatán?” he inquired, a layer of hope underneath his words.

“No,” something was twisting in your chest. “To Miami.”

“...right now?”

“Yes.”

Namor didn’t move, just staring at you with those puppy dog eyes that made you want to wrap your arms around him and pull him into you. 

“Are you sure?” he asked. “Please, Y/N, we have to--”

“Yes, I am sure,” you said pointedly, despite the wobbling of your voice. “It’s not like there’s anything for me to do here, anyways. Everyone’s dead.”

Namor raised an arm, and the female Talokanil soldier from earlier came to his side. He muttered something to her in his native language; you hadn’t bothered to listen, for one because you didn’t speak a word, but for two because for some reason, hearing his voice was making it difficult to hold your ground.

“Come,” he said to you, holding his hand out. You glanced over at him; he began to rise from the ground, wings on his ankles keeping him suspended in the air. You glanced at his hand. “Do you trust me?”

You felt your lower lip tremble. 

“I don’t know,” you said, grabbing his hand anyways. He frowned, his eyes more glassy than ever. You wondered if he would cry. He pulled you up, gently wrapping an arm around your waist and holding you tight on his side, his other arm holding his spear.

In a flash, you were soaring towards the horizon, the cold, salty air whipping you in the face as he flew. His skin was cold against yours, and despite your anger, you pushed yourself against him, wondering when the next time you’d feel him would be.

The gold of his jewelry pressed against your skin, and you stared at the way in glinted under the pale moonlight. You stared at him, the jade in his septum, the point of his ears, the bronze of his skin. There were tears prickling at the corners of his eyes, prevented from rolling down his face and simply flying away from the force of the wind.

You hadn’t realized how quickly you were flying. The shore was near, you could see the lights of the city as you approached it. You slowed, your hair relaxing from the absence of the harsh wind. Scrunching your nose to get some feeling back in it, your feet skimmed the top layer of the ocean as he brought you to the sand and let you go.

You dusted your self off, fixing your head and allowing yourself to adjust to being back on the ground. You had gotten dizzy from the flight, but came to it in less than a minute. You glanced at where his hand still held his spear. When he saw you look at it, he lowered it without hesitation. You finally laid eyes on Namor. The tears from earlier had fallen onto his cheek. 

“Do you fear me?” he asked.

“I fear what you’re capable of,” you muttered. “Because I don’t think you’ll ever trust me.”

“I trust you,” he breathed. You frowned. “I trust you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I do,” he insisted, falling to his knees in front of you. His ebony hair was partially covering his eyes, but the wind suddenly pushed it back so you could see his face. Your eyes widened, gaze lowering to where he sat. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I trust you. Fully.”

You could barely believe the sight before you; Namor, on his knees. You were cruel, you thought. You were still crying. 

“I just need some time,” you said, feeling your heart change at the sight of him. His eyes kept flickered around your face, to one eye, to your nose, to your lips, to the other eye, back to your lips. “Okay?”

“Time?” he repeated, nodding, knees digging into the sand, wings on his ankles fluttering a bit. “Yes, that’s-- as much time as you want.”

“Okay,” you sighed. Namor slowly rose to his feet, reminding you of the way he towered over you. He didn’t let his eyes leave yours, as if he were trying to tell you something tacitly. He looked at your lips. 

He lifted his hands towards your face, and when you didn’t flinch away, he cupped both of your cheeks with his palms. You closed your eyes, heart thumping. 

“Whenever you are ready,” he began, his thumb rubbing over your cheekbone. “I’ll be here. All right?”

“Mm-hm,” you said, letting yourself look at him. He nodded, biting the inside of his cheek. 

“Good-bye,” he said. He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to your hairline so tenderly you thought you might start sobbing right then and there. Before you could say anything more, he soared up into the air, flying away and disappearing into the midnight sky. You wiped at your cheeks, ridding the tears, and with a sigh, you turned around and made for your apartment.

---

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[loreculus]

like you were written for me

summary: in which i read a lot of pretty things that remind me of a lot of genshin impact characters.

featuring: albedo (hurt/comfort), dainsleif (angst, reader has passed away), diluc (hurt/comfort), childe (fluff and angst?), kaeya (fluff), kazuha, thoma (fluff), venti, xiao (fluff), xingqiu (fluff), zhongli (fluff) x g!n reader (sepereately) (i'm pretty sure there are no gendered terms, but this isn't proofread, so if there are, please let me know so i can fix it)!

cw: implied eating disorder/body dysmorphia in albedo's, mentions of childe's real name

personal favorites: albedo, childe, xingqiu

albedo — the role of a lover is exactly the same as the role of an artist. if i love you, i must make you aware of the things you do not see." james baldwin

albedo doesn't normally return home until late in the night, his research ruined his sense of time. so you thought you had time—time to clean up and keep this little incident a secret from your lover. but you thought wrong, because the first thing albedo noticed upon entering the dark bedroom was your form balled up in the middle of your shared bed with tears staining your cheeks. he took cautious, quiet steps towards you, not failing to notice the half eaten plate of food sitting neglected on the bedside table.

taking you into his arms, he gently questioned, "have a bad day?"

you bobbed your head once, answering him. "'m sorry, i was doing so well," your voice trailed off, your words choked by tears.

the sound of your sadness pained the alchemist endlessly, he hated to see you like this, especially over an issue like this. "it's okay darling," he cooed. "we all have bad days, it's just our brains bullying us." his arms enveloped you, his hands moving up and down your back in a comforting motion. "mind to tell me what your brain told you today?"

"the same old same old," you took a shakey breath. "i couldn't stop looking in that dumb mirror, bedo. i couldn't stop scrutinizing what i saw in it."

his hands moved up from your back to your hair, then around to cup your face. "you may not like what you see, but would you like to see what i see?" he pulled your face close, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

he then got up to rummage through his bag; it was brown and made of leather, the bag he always took with him, the bag he was never seen travelling without. after some seconds, he pulled out a sketchbook. though you had accompanied albedo when painting on many occassions, you had never seen this particular book.

coming back to where you sat on the bed, he gingerly positioned himself next to you and opened the book, flipping through its contents.

your eyes widened as he turned the delicate pages—they were all filled with you. sketches of you when you cooking, playing with klee, talking about something that excited you, resting your eyes after a long day of work. sketches of you that were made with such care, with such love.

"[name], i began to draw in order to better myself in the field of alchemy. in that time, i became an artist. but i am no longer just an artist—i am also a lover. your lover."

he flipped to the latest drawing in the book. it pictured you in a field of flowers, a crown of cecilias adorning your head, your mouth curved into a bright smile.

"and the role of a lover," he continued, "is exactly the same as the role of an artist. if i love you, i must make you aware of the things you do not see." he placed the sketchbook in your hands, using one hand to softly grasp your chin, his eyes deeply looking into yours, as if exploring their endless depths.

"you do not see your own beauty, but when i look at you that is all i see."

he pressed his forehead to yours, his words lingering in the air. in this moment, you felt a tear escape your eye; this time, not one of sadness but of joy.

childe — "have you ever seen the hell in somene's eyes and loved it anyways?" maram rimawi

you and your lover walked lazily along yaoguang shoal; the gentle seabreeze carrying the essence of the ocean to your senses, the sound of waves crashing into one another filling the comfortable silence. ajax was always the busy man, his harbinger status brought boundless responsibilities along with it. so moments like these—moments where it was just you, him, and the world—were truly precious.

hand in hand the two of you walked with a comfortable rythym. staring out at the ocean, you couldn't help but compare the water's hue to that of ajax's eyes. you tugged at his wrist, stopping his movements. a questioning look adorned his face. you merely stood on your toes and lovingly planted your lips against his. love overcame his confusion, his left arm wrapped around your torso while his right hand rested against the side of your face.

backing away, you looked deeply into his eyes. they were just lke the sea: an alluring blue, a depth that seemed deeper than eternity.

"your eyes are beautiful," you breathed.

his eyes widened at this. "you think so?"

you nodded your response, entranced by his gaze.

"well, maybe you shouldn't. these eyes have seen too much to be pretty," he looked scorned by the thought of himself.

"no, they've seen too much to be pure. but no amount of hell can take away their beauty."

he frowned, creating some distance between you both. "how can you see the hell in someone's eyes and love it anyways?"

pulling him closer to you once more, you whispered, "i'd rather face an eternity of hell with you than spend a second in heaven alone."

dainsleif — "maybe forever was a word meant for memories and not people."

the tired knight eased his back against a tree, relaxing his shoulders for the first time in a while. his eyes were fixated on the view beyond the hill he decided to rest on: a vast ocean, deep like an unsolved mystery, with light from the lowering sun shimmering against its waves. it was beautiful, he thought. but not as beautiful as the posy that laid in his grip. white petals hanging from an iridescent stem, the bundle of inteyvat flowers littering his hands was second to only one: you.

but he didn't have you anymore, now did he?

all that remained of you were these flowers, carefully kept in a porcelain vase you had crafted together, and your memory. he found it cruel in its comdey, how memories were all he now possessed: the memories of his homeland, of his family, of his men, of you.

chuckling sadly, his lashes fluttered closed.

"dain!"

hearing the smile in your voice, dain turned his neck to face you.

"what've you got there, love?"

you hastily brought your hands to your front, extending your hands to present a bouquet of inteyvats to him. "i found these in an old antique store," your voice was soft—tender even.

"i do, i do," the flowers exchanged hands. "i love you even more for giving them to me."

"so you'll love me forever then?" you teased.

"forever and then some."

the sounds of ships drifting across the water below spurred him from his daytime reverie, keeping him from getting lost in his memories, in your memory.

"forever, huh?"

he sighed. it was a soft and somber sound, one dainsleif found himself making far too often these days. "maybe forever was a word meant for memories and not people—not for you, not for us."

diluc — "i burned so long, so quiet, you must have wondered if i loved you back. i did, i did, i do." annelyse gelman

"where are they?" diluc managed to cough up those words despite nobody being around to hear them. pure rage clouded his vision as he arched over his desk, head in his hands.

you had been missing for four days now. four days since you had dissapeared in the midst of the afternoon sun. four days the heir spent looking and asking and tracking. four days of desperation, of loneliness, of regret.

desperation to find you, loneliness without you, and regret of all the things he failed to say to you.

the last time you were together, he hadn't been his best self. he ignored his feelings for you in a hope that they would dissapear, in a hope that they wouldn't end up hurting you. but, in his efforts to save you from himself, hurt is exactly what he did to you.

"can we please just talk, 'luc?" you pleaded with him.

"apologies, but we have nothing pressing to discuss at the moment." he tried to keep his voice even and reserved.

as you turned to leave, diluc didn't fail to notice the tears escaping your eyes.

oh how he wished he talked to you then. because, if he did, you wouldn't be missing from his grasp now. suddenly, adelaide came crashing through his office doors.

"master diluc," she began. "we've found them! they're staying in a small house in the outskirts of qingce village."

"i thought we checked there already?" "we checked qingce, but not its surronding area, sir." she said, voice heavy with guilt.

diluc wasted no more time in his office. he was quick to grab his coat and greatsword, rushing off to you and your hideaway.

it was already late when he left, the moon acting as his only light source. normally, he wouldn't trouble himself to travelling all the way to the qingce area in such a short time, but tonight was different. he would trouble himself for you.

eventually, a small house began to come into view. diluc didn't know how many hours had passed, all he knew was you were finally back in reach. now standing in front of the door, he raised his hand and knocked on the door. in the past, he would've hesitated with you, but he knew he couldn't afford to hesitate any longer.

he heard movement behind the wooden door: the shuffling of feet—your feet. as you opened the door, your eyes gaped at the sight of an out-of-breath man dressed in black staring back at you. his eyes told you more than his mouth had in the entire past month: longing, aching, regret.

before you could overcome your chock to speak, he spoke. "i'm sorry," he dropped his head. "i'm so, so sorry. i shouldn't have pushed you away for all this time."

you fiddled with your fingers. "you don't have to say that, mister diluc. you don't have to lie to make me feel better."

"'luc," he raised his head to look you in the eyes. "call me 'luc."

"no, it's okay. i won't be a bother to you anymore," you gave him a sad smile, holding back tears.

"but it's not okay. i wasn't honest with you from the start but i should've been. so let me be honest now." he softly held your head in his hands. "i've burned so long, so quiet, you must have wondered if i loved you back. i did, i did, i do." it sounded as if he, like you, was on the verge of tears. you mimicked the way he held you, pulling your foreheads together.

you both stood that way for a while, relishing in the painful comfort of each other's company, bathed in the moonlight's glow.

kaeya — "what is a home if not the first place you learn to run from?" clementine von radics

something had felt off with your boyfriend as of late: he'd been less touchy, more avoidant, and his usual sly comments had lost their edge. you wondered if you did something to him, said something to him, something that was the cause of his change. deep in your thoughts, you walked mindlessly around mondstadt—the city's ambience bringing some peace to counteract your storming insides. as you rounded the corner near good hunter, you ran into the man that consumed your every waking thought.

"kae!" you called out to him.

the cavalry captain stopped in his tracks, his expression hesitant. "hey there, lover." he gave a little wave and attempted to feign normalcy, but his voice was far too strained for that.

"kaeya," you held his eyes. "is everything okay"

a questioning look. "what do you mean?"

you sighed, shoulders sagging. "it's just, you've been kinda avoidant lately. did i do something to upset you?"

a myriad of emotions swirled in his uncovered eye, as if he knew what he wanted to say but not how to say it.

"no," he gave you a soft yet sad smile. "in fact it's quite the opposite. you make me so happy; like i'm finally home." he paused. he didn't know if should say this next part, but he did know that keeping the truth in the dark didn't keep it from breing brought to light. reluctantly, he continued, "and what is a home if not the first place you learn to run from?"

understanding took over your features. as a nationless, fatherless, step-fatherless, brotherless, horseless man that had always had a house but never a home, he was afraid of getting too comfortable with you—with the warmth and security you provided.

"oh kaeya," you cupped his face. "it's a place to come home to at the end of everyday, a place to take off your shoes and rest your feet, a place for you and for me."

smiling down at your pretty face, he wrapped his arms around your waist, pushing you flush against him, pulling you in for a honeyed kiss. the sudden affection normally didn't bother you, but you were right in front of a restaurant. the two of you basically had an audience. noticing the red painting your cheeks, the knight flashed a teasing smirk.

now that's the kaeya you knew and loved.

thoma — "we'd be a wonderful us." keira cass

if you could've had any power, it would have been the power to read minds. his mind, to be specific.

you looked longingly at the boy in front of you. he was so focused on knitting sweaters for the local street cats he failed to see you staring at him in awe. even had he caught you, he wouldn't have minded. you had been friends for so long, afterall. but you didn't want to be friends anymore; you didn't want to be "[name] and thoma", "him and i", "me and him", any longer. you wanted to be "us."

lost in thought, you gasped in surprise as something poked your head. "hey! i finished up that last sweater," he presented the clothing on it's new owner, an adorable calico cat. "doesn't it look just dashing on him?"

you pursed your lips, "it's perfect."

"baha, isn't it? well, now that we're done here, i think we should treat ourselves to some dinner at the komore teahouse."

as you nodded your agreement, he took your hand and helped you off the ground. he doesn't let it go once you were upright though; he kept your hands locked, fingers securely entertwined as if they were always meant to be there. you could feel the heat warming your cheeks. oh archons, you hoped he was too busy talking about what food he was gonna order to notice.

thoma did notice, of course, and he was pleased with your reaction. unbeknownst to you, he too wanted to be more than what you both were now.

you two treated yourselves to a lovely dinner: unagi chazuke, tri-flavored skewers, wakatakeni, sakura mochi. needless to say, you were grateful that thoma's "retainer of the kamisato clan" title protected you from a hefty bill.

seated across from each other at the table, you entertained yourselves. laughter and comfort filled the air in your corner of the room, all other patrons fading into the background.

but there was a moment of silence when cups occupied both your lips, the conversation drying your throats. it was then you could hear the chatter of the other patrons in the space:

"oh, what lovely sweethearts they are!" "do you remember when we first looked at each other like that, hon?" "oh to have a man look at me the way he's looking at them-"

all their statements were flustering, but that last comment was especially quick to heat your cheeks.

"ehe, i guess everyone thinks we're a pair," you cuckled awkwardly. "don't worry though, thoma, i wouldn't disrespect you like that."

a pregnant pause.

"what if i want you to?"

your eyes met his, widening significantly. "well—i-i mean, i wouldn't mind...doing that..." your voice stuttered, getting quieter with every word. you weren't even sure if your following, "i'd love for you and i to be an us," was audible.

it must have been though, as the blonde in front of you chuckled and took your hand in his, lifting it to his lips, leaving a kiss there. "i think we'd make a wonderful us, my darling."

xiao — "no human being has ever stood so close to my soul as you stand." james joyce

the time between protecting liyue from darkness and the sunlight peeking under your bedroom's blinds was the yaksha's favorite time of day. seeing your calm, resting figure with your chest moving in a relaxed pattern brought nothing but peace to his mind.

it meant you had a good rest; and to have slept soundly in the night was to have a good day, and he wanted nothing less than good days for you. and knowing you trusted him enough to wait for you to awaken by your bedside was xiao's greatest honor.

he didn't truly understand what was going on between you two, but he was grateful for your trust, for your unashamed closeness. as an adeptus, he was very used to solitude, so much so that he seemed to detest intimacy. and he did. or, at least he thought he did.

you ruined all that he had thought he was. all those preconcieved ideas about himself, all those characteristics he self-endowed went out the window when you came into the picture.

all of a sudden he didn't want to be alone. he wanted to be with you. all of a sudden, he didn't want to spend his nights chasing demons by himself. he wanted to spend them chasing shooting stars with you. and he just didn't get it—what happened, what changed, why he felt this way.

pondering these questions as he knelt beside your bed, his arm mindlessly drifted over your form, rubbing your arms and back. the motion was so comforting but it stirred you from your slumber nonetheless.

eyes prying open, you breathed, "xiao?"

"good morning," he lifted your hand and pressed a kiss there.

"well, this is a nice surprise," your tired smile shifted into one of humor. "why do you look constipated?"

"i look what?"

you giggled.

"i was just thinking, love."

you tried your best to sober up, and asked through small laughs, "thinking about what?"

"about you." he looked at you so lovingly. " about how no human being has ever stood so close to my soul as you stand." he leaned over you, resting his forearm against the mattress, bringing himself face-to-face with you. "thank you for that."

xingqiu — "i wanted to write down exactly what i felt, but somehow the paper stayed empty. and i could not have described it any better." wtm

xingqiu's hand cramped with its position under the feather quill. "ha," a low sound emitted from under his breath, a sign that his fustration over the letter he was witing you was beginning to overcome him.

it seemed to be teasing him, the paper in all of its blankness. as a successful, published author, writing about his passions and interests was supposed to be the easiest, most straightforward thing in the entire world, and what was he more interested in than you?

nothing. literally nothing.

he would do anything with you, anything for you. see a performance at the heyu teahouse? sure. go jueyun chili picking in qingce village? why, he would love to. eat a bowl of stir-fried carrots for a date night? he'd eat two. and xingqiu hates carrots.

but that's just what you did to him. you turned his hatred into love and smoothed out all the rough patches. you made him feel crazy, sick in the head. and he wanted to express this to you in the best way he knew how to: in words, in writing. he wanted to immortilize you the same way he would any idea that popped into his head and stuck. because you popped into his life and stuck too.

but when he tried to describe his feelings for you, no words could come to mind—despite the fact that you yourself lived there rent free. he looked through every dictionary, asked locals around the harbor, but to no avail. there just wasn't a word strong enough, a word accurate enough, to define the feelings in his heart.

with the sun beginning to set, he knew he was running out of time to find one before his rondevouz with you at xinyue kiosk. rubbing his temples in defeat, he realized something. so, he packaged the unused paper and left the quill on the table.

approaching the restaurant's doors, he heard a sweet sound call his name. "xingqiu!"

he rushed over towards your voice, pulling you into a light embrace. "i have something to give you," he began.

your eyes lit up at his statement, but he raised a finger to your lips before you could respond. "nuh uh uh, hush. you'll have to wait 'till after we eat," his tone was thoughtful at best and mischievous at worst.

dinner was, as expected of the xinyue kiosk, was grandiose in its experience and delectable in its taste. xingqiu knew that'd be hard to beat, but he was hoping what he had to say might be more memorable for you than the food.

he handed you the envelope he packaged before leaving his home earlier tonight, saying, "go ahead, open it up." you did as he said, confusion quickly taking over your features at the sight of a plain piece of paper.

"love, you know i'm a writer. i like to write about everything i love, so, naturally, i'd want to write about you too. as it turns out, i couldn't think of a way to convey my love for you in writing. i wanted to write down exactly how i felt, but somehow the paper stayed empty. and i don't think i could have described it any better," he chuckled softly, cupping your face in his hands. "hopefully this will suffice." he captured your lips gently and you could feel the smile in his.

seperating, you look into his eyes. "oh, it sufficed."

zhongli — "i will love you if i never see you again, and i will love you if i see you everyday." lemony snicket

it had been a long time since you last encountered the old god. his previously loose hair was now tied up all prim and tidy in a low ponytail, his historic robes were exchanged with a sophisticated suit and timeless accessories. despite his different appearance, you knew he was the same rex lapis he was all those years ago.

right now, he was seated at the round, stone table in the middle of the lake at mount aocang. you approached him from behind, an offering in hand.

placing the bowl on the table, you spoke: "i hope this dish is still to your liking, morax."

his lids opened at your voice, revealing a pair of familiar golden eyes.

"ah jewelry soup," he smiled. "you always were a gem." he motioned for you to take a seat, his hand pointing at the stool across from him.

you spent a good time chatting, reminiscing about times past. eventually, the conversation moved from nostalgia to current joy. he recounted the events of late: the trade of his gnosis, his shift into mundane life. he seemed happy and at peace, and that brought you endless joy. you remembered just how brutal life was for him in the past, with the fall of cities and gods comes the rise of suffering.

you know you added to his suffering leaving him all that time ago. seeing him so fufilled now prompted you to apologize for that. "morax, i don't mean to bring up bad memories, but i'm sorry for dissapearing all that time ago." you reached out to him, placing your hands over his. "i'm staying for good now, we can even make a contract out of it," you chuckled. "i know how much you love those."

he gave you a kind smile. "[name], you recall our parting but you don't recall our parting words." he squeezed your hands, "i said, 'i will love you if i never see you again, and i will love you if i see you everyday."

he leaned over the table, reaching out to grab your chin. "that much has not changed. it never will."

-> likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated! <3

[dragonshoardofworks]

DP x DCMK (x DC)

Where Danny and Shinichi meet at the Hawaii where's a Ghost Convention (pre-portal and Conan, when they're both around 11–12 years old) since both sets of parents are invested in the topic. (The Fentons because they're the Fentons and Yusaku because he's researching for one of his books).

They become friends and keep contacts through messages, sharing school shenanigans, crushes, cases and family mishaps.

The One Thing that Danny doesn't share, though, is his halfa status.

First, because Shinichi doesn't believe in the supernatural (according to him, magic is just unexplained science) and second, because his change is far from any kind of "normalcy" and Shinichi had categorically stated that he doesn't want anything to do with superheroes, he's just a "normal" detective and they (the Justice League) save the world.

Though, it's not unusual that, if something weird happens in a case, Shinichi asks Danny's opinion and intel since the Fenton's library has "weird"/obscure material. (If the answer gets him too close to superhero-stuff, Shinichi passes the ball to the JL, more specifically to Red Robin, but that's something for a following reblog of this thread.)

So when Shinichi becomes Conan and settles in Ran's home, he contacts our favorite boi.

(A bit late to the @crossoverdanuary party... (^～^;)ゞ Anyway, long post in chat-style, plus an extra, so I decided to use the read more function because it was getting out of hand... (⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠) )

Shinichi: Hey Danny, do you know anything that should be killing you, but instead it shrinks you? Danny: Shrink as in size or age? S: Age D: Hold on, gotta check some books to be sure, but usually anything age-related is dark shit. What's for? Fun or case? S: ...It's for a case D: Well, that didn't sound ominous at all, then gotta go *faster* *few minutes later* D: Okay, the closest thing (still in the Mortal Realm) to what you asked is this jewel most commonly known as "Pandora" (if she knew, she would definitely lose her shit) D: it's a gem hidden inside another gem that glows red under the moonlight D: "if bathed in the light of the Volley Comet, it would shed tears capable of granting eternal life" S: This doesn't sound anything like what I asked you (⁠눈⁠‸⁠눈⁠) D: Cut the sass beanpole and let me continue D: since the legend exist and it's documented, it should be reasonable to presume that someone managed to attain it, right? S: ...right *squinty eyes* D: So if some scientist tried to reproduce the same results in the *scientific way* instead of the magical one, they could have either the original "Tears" or the one who consumed them and run test and experiment on them D: whatever the case, there would be either some inferior or failed products that instead of making you immortal, *de-ages* you, which is the next best thing (i.e. you would live longer) D: but since they were "failures" compared to the immortality elixir, they could definitely become poisons. D: So! Since you were so ominous, was it really for a case or did our dear Professor Agasa dabble in alchemy? 👀 (read) D: Beanpole, I know you read my explanation and since this is really dark shit you *have* to at least give me context D: because among the warnings that the grimoire gave me, there's the thing that you become somewhat cursed S: ...Or you're cursed or you're not, there's no "somewhat" D: He speaks! 🙌 D: Give me *the deets* *long pause* D: *Shinichi Kudo* ಠ⁠_⁠ಠ S: Okay, fine! I can feel your disappointed stare all the way to Japan, stop! >Д&lt; D: Then explain S: Okay S: so you know how I can't leave things alone when they have suspicious all printed on them? D: Your worst defect, yes, but continue D: ...wait D: Shinichi no D: HOW OLD ARE YOU NOW?? S: Still 17, thank you very much D: I mean physically, you little shit, don't dodge the question! S: ... S: ...we think 7 D: What in the Infinite Realms everloving fuck, Shinichi D: Okay, you know what? D: I'm coming to Japan and you can't stop me, you *midget*, I know what you're already going to say D: it's dangerous, yada yada D: nothing I've already seen and fought S: What do you mean?! D: Since you're *such a good detective*, deduce it yourself D: give me your coordinates in the meantime and don't you dare move from that spot S: If you send me Superman or anyone of his creek, I swear to Kami, Danny D: Please, Superman could only desire to be anything like me, now *coordinates* ಠ⁠_⁠ಠ *coordinates sent* D: good boy D: now get ready in 3 S: 3 what? D: 2 D: 1

🕵️👻

A full body shiver run over Shinichi as soon as the "1" appeared on the screen, so he looked up from his phone, searching for where the cold draft could have come from. However, the agency toilet window was closed and the closed door had a good insulation, last time he had checked.

So what...!

"Boo."

Shinichi shrieked with all the high pitch of an elementary schooler, as he whirled around to look at what, or better, who had whispered by his ear.

A white-haired green-eyed floating teenager with a black hazmat suit with white accents grinned almost maniacally at him, showing their fangs predatorily.

Anatomically they looked male and despite the unhinged expression, the body language didn't project "danger". If anything, it was loose and casual as if he (until otherwise stated) belonged here.

The unearthly glow suggested either some substance coating him that gave him that illusion, or there was magic afoot.

Irritation surged inside Shinichi: Danny knew his rules! No direct superhero meeting, only exchange of intel!

"Who are you and why did Fenton send you?" Shinichi gritted, crossing his arms to appear less like a 7 years old.

"You disappoint me, little detective, I thought you would have figured it out at first glance!" The supposed hero pouted, crossing legs and arms midair and staring back at Shinichi. "I guess that your fame had been an exaggeration, after all. Some East Highschool Detective you are!"

The teasing little smirk incensed Shinichi more than alarming him (the other knew his secret!), but the last thought made him pause.

Danny wouldn't betray him like this by informing whatever "superhero" of this situation just to help him without his consent. Their boundaries had been awesome like that and had been respected so far, despite the many trials both had faced.

So who was this person really?

Shinichi's mind focused back into deducing the teen before him, and the more looked, the more disbelief made way in his heart. (...He had said he would be coming to Japan, but not in that instant!)

"No way, Danny?"

"Fucking finally, midget! What took you so long?" Danny huffed, untangling then touching down on his feet and looking him over. "It even gave me time to take a look at your situation!"

"Hey! Your voice is different, so I could deduce it only because "if you exclude the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the Truth"! Since you would never spill my secrets to anyone, this must have been you!" Shinichi gestured to his friend, who flushed green when he registered the meaning of the words.

"Wow," he breathed, sounding pleased, as he scratched his nape, "you would believe that a ghost of me is still me instead of me betraying you, wow!"

"Wait, ghost? I thought you just become a superhero, not that you died!" Despite his insistence on not believing the supernatural, Shinichi had read the Fentons' papers on ghosts (the most recent ones, AKA the "no more biased version" as Danny had called them). And, while he hadn't told his friend this, the scientific breakdown of what makes a ghost what they are, had made Shinichi believe in the existence of ectoplasmic beings.

But to discover that one of his best friends had died, he hadn't known or could have done anything, plus Danny hadn't felt safe enough to tell him until it had become unavoidable, made Shinichi clutch his heart in agony and despair.

Probably sensing the shift and interpreting the action for what that was, Danny's face shifted into regret, as he knelt down before the shrunk detective and a ring of light lit up at his waist, washing over him and leaving a hoodie-and-jeans-clad raven-haired and blue-eyed teenager.

Slowly, as if not to spook a frozen Shinichi, Danny laid a hand on his shoulder, while the other took the free little hand to his NASA hoodies chest and splayed it there, allowing him to feel his heartbeat. As if he had known that only words wouldn't have been enough to convince the detective.

Slowly but surely, feeling Danny's sluggish but steady heartbeat, made Shinichi unclench, then lean against his friend's chest, head tucked under his chin.

Carefully, Danny wrapped his friend in a hug, knowing well that, while physical affection was welcome from him, Japanese social conventions and the Kudo's upbringing had left Shinichi a little adverse to prolonged contact.

As the apparent 7-years-old melted into the embrace and clutched Danny as well, followed by a suspicious wet sensation on his chest, the halfa realized that this was bad.

Shinichi had never sought comfort like that, according to professor Agasa (who Danny did keep in contact with, since he was more a parent than the Kudos), so to do this now...

"It's okay, Shinichi, I'll explain better what happened to me, but it's not your fault." Shinichi shuddered at these words and buried deeper in the embrace, making guilt shoot through Danny. He had caused this breakdown. The least he could do was to help him through it and some.

"And we're gonna find a way to solve what happened to you, I promise."

[subliminalbo]

Classified Information #2: The Sound

From the Carpenter Foghorn Vol. 21, Issue 3

Uploaded by Christopher C. Buchanan 08/25/2018

Life Beyond the Stars? Carpenter State Researchers Capture Mysterious Sound from Space

By Troy M. Bauserman

Since Galileo first charted the moon’s phases, scientists have obsessed over a haunting question: are we truly alone in the universe? For many, all it takes is a glance through a telescope to answer that question. How could we possibly be alone in all that real estate? But the student researchers at CSU’s Department of Astrophysics and Astronomy may be closing in on a definitive answer. It comes in the form of a mysterious sound recorded from the very depths of space.

“There are all kinds of radio signals in space,” explains Sharon Ackworth, a PhD student working out of Carpenter State’s esteemed Weir Laboratory. “Anything that produces a magnetic field will also cast radio waves which we can pick up. And yes, you can translate those radio waves into sounds. But [our sound] is unique from say, a radio wave generated by an atmosphere, because it is a sound.”

“The Sound” as it’s come to be known in the department, is not wholly unique. NASA first captured sound from space in 2003, but sadly these noises remain inaudible to the human ear. “We know we have a sound,” Ackworth says, the frustration heavy in her voice. “We’re just not there yet—technologically—to hear it. Suddenly we’re in an arms race to be the first laboratory to amplify a cosmic sound into an audible range.” A feat that Ackworth notes sounds much simpler than it is, requiring state of the art audio technology to “turn it up” by millions of decibels.

As for what the sound may be, Ackworth hypothesizes that they’ve captured the sound of gas expelled from a black hole. Until we hear it with our own ears, however, I’m happy to believe that our little gray friends are finally reaching out to us from beyond the stars.

“I don’t get it,” Kayla cocked her head to the side as she watched Iris work at her laptop. “You can’t even hear it?”

“That’s the whole point,” Iris said, her eyes glued to the computer screen. “It was recorded before this software existed. Fuck, I can’t believe it’s even real.”

“I still don’t get it,” Kayla repeated. “So, we recorded a sound that isn’t a sound…sure. But if the technology exists now, why hasn’t anyone done this before?”

“Because,” Iris said, glancing conspiratorially through the glass walls of their private study room in the Carpenter State University Library. “The Department of Astrophysics and Astronomy shut down years ago. There was like a whole scandal. A bunch of fellows transferred out and their work was abandoned. After that, The Sound just kind of became an urban legend.”

Kayla leaned in behind Iris’ shoulder. Iris had pulled the audio file from the school’s archives and was now playing around with the sound wave in some fancy audio program that Kayla didn’t recognize (Her question, “What is that, Audacity?” had elicited a sharp snort from Iris). At its native frequency, the sound wave charted a straight line. But slowly, as Iris played with the program, small, periodic ridges interrupted the line’s straight path. It was satisfying to watch the sound take shape, even if Kayla didn’t totally understand the process.

“How did you even find it?” Kayla asked.

“It was buried in CSU’s private server. Bailey hooked me up with access.”

A knock at the glass cut into their conversation.

“Speak of the devil.”

Bailey DuBois entered the study room with her backpack slung casually over her shoulder. The small blonde adjusted her glasses on her nose as she said quietly, “Library’s closing in fifteen.”

“Cool,” Iris nodded.

“No, Iris,” She said. “Like, you need to leave.” Bailey did her best to look stern in the face of old friends, but she’d always been more comfortable with books than people. She glanced around to see if anyone was passing by, then said more quietly, “The confidential server is no joke, Iris. If someone finds out that I let you use my access…”

“Confidential?” Kayla squeaked.

“Relax,” Iris said. “We’re wrapping up now anyway. I copied the file to my computer so I can do the rest from the apartment.”

The tension released from Bailey’s shoulders. “So you found the file?”

“Sure did.”

Bailey stepped further into the room to join Kayla behind Iris. “That’s it?” She asked.

“It’s taking shape right now,” Iris said. “We’re going to leave, I just…I need to hear it first.”

“What are you even going to do with it?” Kayla asked.

Iris smiled then said, “I’m gonna put it in a song.”

Bailey’s laugh pulled Iris momentarily from the screen. “Why not?”

“I thought there wasn’t any sound in space,” Kayla said.

“Technically that’s not true,” Iris replied, turning back to her work on the laptop. “In a vacuum, sound waves can’t go anywhere. But the student who discovered The Sound hypothesized that it was sound moving through space gas or something.”

“Or,” Bailey said. “It could be aliens.”

Kayla backed away toward the glass wall, her arms crossed over her chest. “Is there any chance this thing is dangerous?” she asked. “I mean someone took the time to bury it on the very fucking private and spooky secret server, yeah? You remember what happened to those people in Cuba?”

“I’m pretty sure the government made that up,” Iris laughed, digging into her backpack to pull out a pair of wired headphones. “You can spot for me if you’re so worried. Take these off if I start bleeding from the eyes.”

“Honestly, it’s a moral imperative that we listen to it,” Bailey said. “For science.”

“And rock and roll,” Iris nodded.

Unspooling the cord, she slipped the headphones over her ears and plugged the audio jack into her laptop. She took a deep breath, said something campy like, “To infinity and beyond,” then hit play on the program.

From the Carpenter Foghorn Vol. 22, Issue 5

Uploaded by Christopher C. Buchanan 09/01/2018

“Weird” Weir Laboratory to Close Down: Dean Pulls Funding on Controversial Program Amid Rumors

By Teri Daniels

The Department of Astrophysics and Astronomy is closing down after nearly forty years in operation. The decision was announced in a press statement by Dean of Arts and Sciences Strickland Pierce. Though many departments have been forced to tighten their budgets in the wake of the economic downturn, the Department of Astrophysics and Astronomy is an outlier in Dean Pierce’s plan to maintain funding in STEM.

“It’s purely an economic decision,” Office Liaison Amanda Cline said on behalf of Dean Pierce. “A time of austerity forces us to make tough decisions. We’ve seen that in the elimination of other programs such as the Screenwriting major last year.”

But the decision comes in the aftermath of Dean Pierce’s souring relationship with program director Dr. Philip Weir, Jr. Dr. Weir, whose father bears the namesake for the Weir Laboratory, had endeared his students to his eccentric personality throughout the years, though his behavior had reportedly grown erratic in the weeks leading up to the department’s closure. Dr. Weir had attempted to publish an article in the Carpenter State University Scientific Journal purporting definitive proof of extraterrestrial life. He later barricaded himself inside of the Weir Laboratory with a dozen PhD students, insisting that he wouldn’t leave until he had proven the unpublished paper to be true. An anonymous source claims that the culture inside the Weir Laboratory was in recent years less of an academic community than it was a cult. Following the incident, Carpenter State University declined to press charges against Dr. Weir but dismissed him from his position.

Dr. Sharon Ackworth, head researcher at the Weir Laboratory, has vowed to continue Dr. Weir’s work. “It’s like losing your home in a storm,” she stated. “What can you do but pick up the pieces and move on?”

Kayla backed into the corner of the study room as she watched her friends take turns on the headphones. First Iris, trancing out, head bobbing to the cosmic tones, slowly back and forth on a swivel.

“Take them off!” Kayla cried after a few minutes.

A weak moan trembled from Iris’ lips as Bailey pulled the headphones from her ears. She’d never felt anything like that before. Though she turned to look at her friends, she only saw the outlines of their bodies. Her mind was somewhere else in the universe.

“You’ve got to hear to this,” she managed.

Bailey closed her eyes as The Sound washed over her. It was faint, an echo of something deeper that she knew was there but couldn’t quite hear yet. It was taking shape, just as Iris had described. Something was reaching out, something wanted to be heard. A message filled with pure, uncorrupted power.

“Music,” Iris said when she removed the headphones from Bailey’s ears.

“Music,” Bailey repeated. Her thoughts floated beneath a cosmic mist. Everything felt so still in that moment, as if the entire world had come to a stop. Everything except for Bailey’s heart, which was racing.

It wasn’t fear. It was arousal.

Iris must have felt the same way, because she leaned in close to Bailey, her hands pressing down into the arms of the chair as if it was the only thing keeping her upright. Her heavy breaths still moved to the tempo of The Sound. Bailey licked her lips unconsciously, fighting a sudden urge to make the space between them as small as possible.

And she would have if Kayla hadn’t interrupted her.

“Are…are y’all okay?” she squeaked from her corner.

“It’s like…we’re so insignificant,” Iris spoke through glassy eyes.

“So small,” Bailey echoed.

Kayla managed to get Iris to pack up her stuff and by the time they were outside of the library her friend had mostly come to her senses. Iris’ initial reaction had shifted to the practical applications of The Sound. “I mean, I’ll still have to play with the decibels but even at this level…wow. It’s not rock and roll, it’s like trance music. Imagine what it’ll do for the club scene…”

That night Kayla turned in her bed, images of her friends under the influence of The Sound ensuring a restless sleep. In the next room, Iris was wide awake as well, slaving away at her computer. She’d tried to sleep, but couldn’t tear herself away from her work. She continued amplifying The Sound until she found sound beneath the sound.

She was certain now that it was a voice. Distant and inaudible, like a conversation heard from the bottom of the ocean. But it was unmistakably something alive and something intelligent.

Iris’ desire to piece together the full range of sounds buried in this single audio file had driven her forward, but when she heard The Voice she was once again sucked into the black hole that was its Power.

Its? Who was it? A being that existed long before the earth and would continue to exist long after.

Fuck, why was that so hot? Why was she suddenly burning up? Why was she soaking through her panties? Iris thought of the look in Bailey’s eyes after she’d listened to The Sound and found herself growing hungry, not just for her friend but for everything. She wasn’t working anymore, abandoning the program to lean back into her chair and explore her wet pussy. But as her fingers rolled over her swollen clit, The Sound pushed through on its own, growing clearer in Iris’ ears as she neared orgasm.

It was unmistakable. An intelligent voice speaking in an unknown language. A message that was meant to be heard, its strange words mixing into Iris’ moans until she was repeating them herself. As she came to The Voice’s Message, Iris felt that some fundamental part of her existence was melting away, lost down some deep, cosmic rabbit hole.

What was left over would be remade by The Voice.

From the Carpenter Watchblog

Uploaded by Jamie Watt 05/22/2018

In Search of a Reclusive Scientist

By Corbin Arroyo

In the short, often strange history of Carpenter State University, few stories are stranger than the sudden meltdown of The Department of Astrophysics and Astronomy. Yet it’s an event that few talk about, buried in the shallow pages of a student newspaper and left there with no critical consideration. At its peak, The Weir Laboratory was an acclaimed research facility that made massive contributions to our modern understanding of space. Many of its student researchers transferred to more notable schools, but in my attempts to reach these former students, none were interested in discussing their history. None, save one, who remained in the area after the department’s closure.

Despite her proximity to Romero, Dr. Sharon Ackworth was not easy to track down. After a brief attempt to salvage the Astrophysics and Astronomy program, she left academia entirely. She now lives a few miles outside of town. Shrouded in a dense overgrowth of trees, you can only spot her trailer from the road if you’re looking for it. That’s how Dr. Ackworth likes it. Her small abode is a shocking contrast to the sanitary, fluorescent glow you may imagine in a science lab. Color has faded in every corner of this place, the wallpaper an off-white trending toward yellow. That’s what I can see of the walls, anyway. Most of it is papered with pages from spiral notebooks, margins filled with obscure and complex equations far above my English major.

Dr. Ackworth clears some space from a small table just off of the kitchenette. It’s cluttered with old cardboard boxes stuffed with files that I assume are everything she salvaged from her department. She later confirms that she took everything from Dr. Weir’s office. An entire history of a college department stuffed into a leaky, old trailer just off a dirty county road. Dr. Ackworth sips from a coffee mug that says “C8H10N4O2” on its face. My mug has Garfield on it. It sits untouched in front of me.

Dr. Ackworth is barely forty, but a long, thick tangle of rusty-gray hair makes her age difficult to track. Her face looks young. Despite her surroundings, her appearance, I’m certain she could pass for thirty. She doesn’t care about any of that. She hasn’t for a long time.

Her forthcoming account to me of the last days of the Weir Laboratory makes me question why she chooses to live in seclusion. She tells me that it isn’t necessarily fear that’s driven her away from Romero. After all, if she were running from something she’d at least leave the state. No, instead she’s just given up on being heard. In all the years that she’s lived out here, no one has cared enough to ask why.

“Everyone thought that [Dr. Weir] was obsessed with extra-terrestrials,” she remembers. “But that wasn’t the point of his paper. He wasn’t looking for fame or glory, he didn’t want to be the person to prove that aliens exist. It was a warning. At first, we thought The Sound was some sort of natural phenomenon, but we were wrong.”

The Sound that Dr. Ackworth refers to here was recorded by her laboratory in 2005 and became the major point of research in the last years of the Weir Laboratory. An actual sound recorded from the depths of space, one which Dr. Weir and Dr. Ackworth became obsessed with. Inaudible with regular audio technology, but not impossible to hear.

“It wasn’t just one sound though,” she continues. “As we worked with it, we found that it was cascading. Sounds upon a sounds, a voice buried beneath a deep, deep echo. And the more we listened to The Sound, the more it changed us. It burrows into your mind until it’s the only thing that you hear. It’s the only thing that you care about. And you find that it’s not just words, but commands. And you’re powerless to disobey them.

“It moved through the laboratory like a virus, infecting anyone who listened to it. The message was sent to prepare us. An arrival, in which its speaker would inherit the earth and all life that existed within.”

She takes a breath, grips her cup a bit tighter.

“[Dr. Weir] was the first to see what we were becoming. Our obsessive dedication to unlocking every detail of its hidden message terrified him. When he locked the laboratory down, it wasn’t to prove his theory or anything. It was containment. Until the The Sound could be properly destroyed, nobody could leave. He knew that such drastic measures would surely mean the end of his career, and he was right. Everything that you’ve read, the story about program cuts—that was all Dean Pierce’s spin.”

Watching Dr. Ackworth share her story, it’s clear to me that something really happened in that department, something that necessitated a cover up from the highest levels of Carpenter State authority. It drove Dr. Weir to destroy his own reputation, forced Dr. Ackworth to the edge of society. Things like this don’t happen without reason. Was it an evil message meant to prime us for extra-terrestrial conquerors? It’s hard to believe. But reality won’t diminish Dr. Ackworth’s feelings, the years she’s struggled to find anyone to listen to her.

I’m listening, Sharon. And I won’t stop until I find the truth of it all.

The preceding article was retrieved from online archives. It was initially removed from the Carpenter Watchblog by writer Corbin Arroyo at the request of the College of Arts and Sciences. It has been retained on the private server for documentation purposes.

Bailey hadn’t been herself since she’d listened to The Sound.

Even days after, she couldn’t shake it from her head. It echoed in her mind like a bad song.

At night she would drift off into a sleep weighted down by the same vivid dream. There was a figure deep in space. Deep, but not unreachable. It spoke to her, its words locked behind an unknowable language, muffled further by the millions upon millions of light years that separated her from it.

And yet she understood the meaning of its message.

Bailey would awaken, heart pounding, drenched in sweat. The first thing she saw was Iris. The image of her friend in the study room was burned into her memory. Those distant eyes focused on a power so far away, but still stronger than any human on earth. It was the hottest thing Bailey had ever seen.

Iris swung both ways, but as far as sexual orientation was concerned Bailey had never deviated from men. Iris would joke about hooking up, a kind of punk rock desire to make everybody in the room uncomfortable, and Bailey would always laugh it off. But now she drifted off into rough fantasies of Iris holding her down, dominating her.

She could teach me, Bailey thought. She could teach me to be a good flesh puppet.

What was that? Where had that come from?

Bailey tried to resist the urges that her late night fantasies conjured. She avoided contact with Iris, even went so far as to delete her from her contacts. Yet when Bailey wandered the library she caught herself peering through the glass walls of its study rooms. What did Bailey even plan to do when she saw Iris again? She feared to speak the answer into existence.

Work normally kept Bailey grounded, but now she found the library to be the hardest place to think. For her, it was ground zero. She was becoming something now and it couldn’t be stopped.

She was becoming a flesh puppet.

The thought made her drop in a quiet corner among the stacks, aching for release. The top floor of the library had a private bathroom where she would go on breaks to scroll Instagram. Locking herself in, Bailey was barely sitting down before she had her fingers buried in her pussy. Even awake she could hear The Voice, encouraging her.

“Fuck!”

Her cries were pure, unrestrained obedience.

The orgasm broke her. She remained seated, arms hanging limp like a doll’s, as The Voice’s Message filled the space where she had once had thoughts.

She came back slowly. A finger twitch, a jaw click, an eye roll. It was like something had crawled inside of her and was adjusting to its new home.

She took a deep breath.

It was time to see her friends.

The apartment door vibrated with the thumping sound on the other side. Bailey tried the knob and it creaked open. She was met with a mix of voices that she immediately recognized.

The first was Iris, confident and domineering, issuing commands between shallow breaths. The second, distant and hungry, was Kayla submitting to those commands, begging Iris to go deeper. The third voice—Bailey knew it but had never heard it. Not like this. It was The Voice, its alien words pumping through Iris’ sound system as clearly as Iris and Kayla’s cries.

Bailey found her friends in the living room. Iris had Kayla bent over the couch, taking her from behind with a large, black strap on. Beads of sweat trickled down their naked bodies. Kayla’s mouth was wide open, tongue dripping, glassy eyes rolled back into her head as she took the full force of her best friend’s silicone cock.

Bailey was driven to the floor by the massive weight of The Voice’s Message. She tore at her shirt, pulling her bra down to expose her breasts. With one hand she groped; pinching, twisting, rolling her fingers over her nipple. The other hand found its way down into her wet shorts.

Bailey’s moans mixed among her friends as she cried out the words that burned their way into her mind. They weren’t alien when they left her lips. A translated Message for the world to hear: “I am…the Birth of a new species! I will Prepare…my body and my mind for the…Great Arrival! I will Fill whatever need is…expected! I will Preach, I will Build, I will Breed! I will Shape the…soil to The Messenger’s Desires! I am a flesh puppet! My Submission is eternal.”

When Bailey looked up, she saw that Iris was speaking the same words, her eyes looking through her. Kayla too was trying her best to repeat the loop, but she struggled through the pounding. After the two finished, Iris stepped toward Bailey, leaving Kayla motionless on the couch, simply absorbing The Message that repeated over the speakers.

Though Iris spoke freely, her lips continued to move silently to The Message’s words in small breaks between her own. The effect was something uncanny, like a robot imitating a human’s speech patterns but struggling not to process all of the other data around it.

“I was wondering when you’d return,” Iris said coldly, approaching Bailey. “I couldn’t fight it for that long. I let it take me the night we found it. Kayla too. She was so scared at first, but she saw the way. How long did it bounce around your head?”

“So long…” Bailey moaned.

“And now that you’ve heard the complete Message, you know how much work we have to do.”

“So much…”

Iris slipped her finger beneath Bailey’s chin and lifted her head so that she could look down into those empty eyes. Empty, but so full of desire.

Bailey, staring down the face of Iris’ cock still dripping in Kayla’s sex, licked her lips.

“I am ready,” she said, her lips too beginning to move to The Message. “We must prepare my body for The Great Arrival.”

[reimagine7]

A thing for Aquaman (Kelley O'hara x reader)

This was a request, but I had a tough time writing it and don’t know if I achieved your expectations. It’s a short one. 

Kelley pov

“Hello ladies! My name is Shean and I’ll be one of the instructors that will be guiding you all today.” We were at the Marine Life Rescue center in Florida. The USWNT is combining forces with the Program to help raise visibility to their mission, so we are making a visit and recording some media stuff. A few of us visited the Clearwater aquarium, some went to the beach to see a turtle and a dolphin release. Me, Lindsey, Alex, Sofia, Trinity and Sonnett are in the group that is going scuba diving. 

“So, a quick story before our leader gets here. The Marine Life Rescue Project was created to support the mission and funding to Clearwater Marine Aquarium Research Institute. We believe in preserving our environment while inspiring the human spirit through leadership in the rescue, rehabilitation, and release of marine life. By research, conservation and environmental education of the community. Alone, we can’t do much, so that’s why your visit here is so important for us…” The boy kept talking and my attention quickly was out of it. I poked Alex and asked. “This guy sounds like he is repeating this line for the hundredth time and has zero animation to be here” Alex laughed but kept looking at the boy, Lindsey that was near heard me and answered. “He is cute though. But I don’t know if I’m too excited to enter the water. I think I will rather stay in the boat talking to him.” Trinity, who was also listening to us, spoke. “What? We are scuba diving for free. Why would you want to stay in the boat?” “What if there are sharks in the water?” Lindsey whispered loudly. “That’s the fun part.” Trinity has a smirk on her face. “I don’t think there will be sharks in there. Right?” I tried to calm Linds, but I was not too sure of myself.”  “Don’t worry, the sharks don’t like humans that much. They usually don’t show up. Usually.” A woman whispered behind us, making the girls who were close jump a little as we haven’t seen her before. “Usually?” She just shrugged. “Who are you?” I was the one making the question now. “I’m…” 

“Y/n! You made it. Come here.” The woman winked at us, stood and went up front. “Girls, this is Y/n Y/l/n. She is going to be the lead instructor that will be diving with some of you. Any questions?” Lindsey raised her hand and asked. “Can I stay in the boat?” We all laughed and Y/n answered. “Of course you can, no one will be forced to be down there. But I must warn you that you will be missing a lot.” “Thanks. But I rather stay here than risk being eaten by a shark.” “First, sharks don’t attack like that. That is a huge myth created mostly due to Spielberg's movies. There is a bigger chance of you dying in a plane crash than being eaten by a shark.” Y/n corrected Lindsey, who still didn’t look convinced. “I think I'll take my chances with the plane.” Y/n laughed but before she could say anything the other instructor called her informing that everything was ready on the boat. “We are going. And second…” She interrupted herself by taking off her hoodie, and Oh, dear! She has muscles. God, she is hot. “Second, I know this beach like the palm of my hand. I know these animals and you’ll be safe with me and my team. Don’t worry. Let’s go girls?” With that she walked toward the boat leaving us behind.

We watched her going and I broke the silence “Have anyone else seen those muscles?” “Yeah. You know what Linds, you can stay in the boat. I will dive with her.” Sonnett grabbed her backpack and started her walk to the boat. “Wait. I think I changed my mind. With those arms, I think I will be safe.” Lindsey says following Sonnett. “You know Kells, if you want a chance to stay near those arms you’ll have to run. Sonnett and Linds are thirsty.” Alex laughed at me and we all ran to the boat. 

An instructor started the drive and we all sat in the boat waiting for the boat to stop at the diving spot. “So Y/n, is being this muscular and hot a requirement to being a scuba diving instructor?” She laughed and answered. “If it was Shean over here would be with his days counted.” “Hey! I work out.” “I’m just kidding man. But answering your question, it’s not. But it helps to keep the girls' attention at you when you’re repeating the program instructions.” She winked at me. “I noticed, but don’t know if I paid too much attention to what you were saying, was occupied with something else. Too distracted. I would love to learn more about it.” “Well, unfortunately that isn’t part of the tour but I’m always open to show what those muscles can do some other time.” “I think I know how those muscles work in the gym.” “I imagine, but I wasn’t talking about the gym.” My eyes widened and I stayed speechless. She stood up and started grabbing the equipment.

“Well, as we already pass through instruction on the beach, I won’t repeat them. The only thing I’m reinforcing is to make sure to be close by. This water is normally safe and calm, and you will have the chance to watch the most different species of animals and corals, but your safety is the most important thing here and any caution is too much. Any question?” This time it was Trinity who raised her hand. “How close can we stay to you?” “Can I hold your arms?” Sofia asked. Y/n only laughed and put her backpack on. “Calm down girls, there is enough of me for everyone. Now, who is ready to dive?”

Next thing I know Y/n was helping the girls with their equipment and Alex poked me. “Really Kell? You’re almost drooling over her.” “Can you blame me? Look at those muscles.” “She is more than just that, you know?” “I know, but how can I not want that? She is smart, strong, funny, and hot. She is friends with the fishes, sharks, and almost the whole marine life. She is basically the female Aquaman.” “Kids, why did I have to stay in the kids group?” She walked away and Y/n came near me to help me with the equipment.

“Everything is good?” Y/n asked. “Yep.” “Great. Let's finish our tour then and wish for it to end with a success.” She said finishing tightening the strap. “Success? I thought you said we didn’t have to worry about it.” She looked at me. “You don’t. Not on my part anyway.” I looked at her confused. “What do you mean?” “You know the story, the hero saves the ladies from the sharks and gets the girl in the end.” “Who says you were the hero?” “We are in a small boat Kelley.” A smirk appeared on her face and she went near the edge of the boat. “But don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone you have a thing for Aquaman.” She winked at me and jumped in the water. Oh God, I have a thing for the female Aquaman.

[pycobutterpie]

#samweek2024 Day 1 Sam Winchester x my hobby (writing supernatural fics and roleplays), set in his world, regarding the books of Carver Edlund Triggers: none Words: 1600

Glancing at the clock, I sighed. I had been sitting in the library for two hours and didn't know where to begin or where to end. On the left were books about Indian culture and customs, on the right about rituals and deities of the South Asian country. Not that I ever wanted to travel there. It was all research. A glance at my Discord channel told me that Minnie was still waiting for my response in our previous chapter of the written Supernatural RPG. My chat buddy had already planned our story with India. And there were two stories running through my head again. I bit my lower lip and tried to decide which one to write now. Either the research for the new chapter, where Dean and his family are being hunted by a demon in India, or the current story, where Dean's daughter had learned to teleport and had simply showed up in her cousin's kindergarten.

Carver Edlund would be proud of us, I was sure of it. One can always make a crazy story even crazier, and that's what we had done. But who deserved a happy family more than Sam and Dean from Supernatural. Nobody, right? They had been through so much that a little fluff was only appropriate. We hadn't made it that easy for them either. Thinking about how Sam's heart is gong to be broken…

With a sadistic smile on my lips, I was about to start my post about Sam's son when a huge guy appeared on the other side of the small desk and took my light. “Hi,” the brunette said quietly, balancing a stack of old books on both arms. The tendons of his forearms were taut, his muscles well defined. “Hi,” I said shyly, quickly looking back at my screen, because guys like that didn't usually talk to me. He cleared his throat briefly, but his shadow didn't disappear. Why was he still standing there? I looked at his face again, which looked a little questioning. That handsome face… “Um,” he snapped me out of my thoughts, “can you make room for me? Otherwise it's already full.”

I winced briefly, because I shouldn't be daydreaming so much. Instead, I jumped up, the chair crashing into the shelf behind me.

"Sure, sorry!" I hurriedly pushed my books to one side, which took up most of the space on his side of the table. “No problem,” he said with a gentle smile, lowering his tomes onto the table. They looked a little dusty and weren't even labeled on the spine. I would imagine old spellbooks in a magical library would look like this. Oh, that was an idea! I straightened up my chair and went straight to the chat with Minnie and wrote in the 'Ideas' channel:

@ Y/N: “Maybe there's some kind of magical library in hell where Alex and Cassy cantry out all sorts of things as soon as they can read?” I grinned and immediately felt the inspiration to finish the text Sam's about little son again.

I just managed to send my text before my computer went PLING. My friend had replied in the ideas channel.

@ Minnie: “Wow, that sounds great^^ Maybe they'll get caught too. Or they'll tear up one of Bobby's important books.”

I had to laugh a little.

@ Y/N: “No way, he made copies of all of them.” PLING @ Minnie: “Then Crowley’s books.”

Before I could answer, I felt an annoyed look from across the table. The young man had pressed the fingers of his left hand to his forehead to hold his head, while the light from his own laptop setting off his sharp cheekbones. "You should turn off the sound," he said, looking pretty good even when annoyed. Inwardly, I had long since made the comparison to Sam, the way I imagined him and the way Edlund had described him. Muscular, masculine, but also a few soft features and incredibly velvety flowing hair. I thought guys like that only existed in books. Suddenly, his laptop emitted an urgent beep and the light on the gentleman's face disappeared. “Oh no, please don't…” he cursed under his breath and hitting a few keys in vain.

As I was waiting for Minnie to post anyway, I ventured a conversation: “And you should charge your laptop. Do you need it urgently?” “Hm… Deadline,” he said, chewing on his lower lip. I wondered if he often worked under time pressure. His eyes flew over my laptop and my books. “Are you studying too?” I had to smile. “No, not anymore. This is more of a hobby. I'm Y/N, by the way. What's your subject? Magic?” Now he had to laugh as well. “Sometimes it seems that way to me, but no. Law. And I'm Sam, nice to meet you.” My forehead felt like it was frozen in a wrinkle. The guy's name was the same as the one in the story of all stories and he studied law in the same way? Especially since his books didn't look like they came from the legal department at all. More like… My imagination was too vivid, far too vivid. It was just a story. There were no monsters and therefore no hunters. And the name was completely random. Thousands of people were called Sam. How about Sam Witwicky? Just to name one character… But still… It was worth a try. I could already imagine what his search history would look like. Determined, I slid my laptop over to him and gave him a trusting smile. “If you don't delete anything, you can use mine. I should look in the books anyway. I haven't made much progress yet.” “Really,” Sam asked. “You know you should never give your electronics to strangers.” I wouldn't put it past him that his little eyes had looked so desperate earlier, like a puppy that had its toy taken away. Instead, I leaned back and pulled the book of the Indian gods towards you. “No, it's okay, I'll have your fingerprints and my sister is with the FBI.” A lie, but never mind. The real Sam always gave the FBI a wide berth, unless he was impersonating them. “Okay… thanks then,” he said and pulled my laptop towards him.

We were absorbed in our work for a while until my laptop made a few sounds again. Minnie had replied! And her text was more than 2000 characters long, otherwise it would have been just one pling. My eyes widened a little and my fingers tingled to read what she had written from the perspective of Dean's gifted daughter. Or from Sam's, or probably both in one post. After all, I had ended my part of the story earlier with a phone call from the kindergarten teacher to Sam. But the Sam in front of me made no move to return the laptop. Instead, he stared at it, quite fascinated, and then happily started typing again. I just stared at him for a few moments, but he didn't seem to notice. Instead, it soon plinged again. Minnie was notoriously quick with her lyrics. But surely Sam wouldn't dare? His fingers stopped and he grinned at the screen again. “Hey!”, I said to him and pulled my laptop back towards me.

Sam flinched, startled, and raised his hands: “I didn't do anything.” With a frown, I looked at the open window on the screen. Of course it was Discord and Minnie's latest post wasn't even about the story. Just a real life conversation. “You chatted with her?” I looked reproachfully at Sam, who was staring out of the window at the end of the hallway. “Sam, you don't have to ignore me, I can see that.” I quickly skimmed over the brief chat between the two of them. “You're giving her tips on what Sam would do? Are you a roleplayer too?” My curiosity clearly outweighed my annoyance that he had been snooping through my chat. “A what? No, sorry. I was just reading the text. And I thought Sam wouldn't give his son to a stranger in a nursery after all.” Oh, so he was a fan too. I gave him my sweetest smile, because you never meet other Supernatural fans in real life. “It's really cool that you love Supernatural too. One would think you are a LARPer for Sam. And do you also write fanfiction?”

Sam tilted his head slightly. “No, I just had a quick look at the books. My brother has…” He stopped the sentence so abruptly that I felt like he was biting his tongue. I rested my chin on the palm of my hand with satisfaction and grinned broadly at him. “So I've been writing the story for a while now. We let Sam and Dean become fathers almost simultaneously and involuntarily. That's really good stuff. Sam's girlfriend is not only in the FBI but also a monster without him knowing it. Suits him, doesn't it?” I looked directly at the Sam across from me as he swallowed and turned a little paler. “I… No, I don't think so. I have to go now.” By then he had already stood up, gathered his things without looking at me again, and stalked off. Was he offended? Sam was certainly his favorite character. And what we did to him in the story was pretty intense. But sometimes you stepped on other fans' toes. But there were be others who were just as excited about the ideas as you were. ------------------ (It would be really fun to read this story from Sam's point of view :D If anyone fancies it, feel free to tag me in the results). Written for #samweek2024 by @seasononesam and @suncaptor <3 You can find the topics of the individual days here.

[flutteringphalanges]

The Lion Sleeps Tonight

Adam Warlock x Star Lord!Sister Reader

Prompt: All babies get sick. You knew that. And yet, when yours caught a cold, it was the worst feeling in the world. If it wasn’t for Adam, you’d really be a mess. Just another bump in the road of parenthood--but also another sign of how great of a father he truly was. 

Word Count: 1,613

A/N: Hello, hello! Another one shot installment to my Adam Warlock x Star Lord!Sister Reader baby series! Here is the LINK to the master-list of all of the one shots! Requests are open! To those who have sent some in, I promise I will get to them! I also plan to do more with Aydith being different ages besides a baby so please send some suggestions in if you’d like! Thank you guys so much for your support! Here we go! -Jen

                                   The Lion Sleeps Tonight

It was just a cold. A simple runny nose accompanied by the occasional cough and low grade fever. Something you had personal experience with in your (age) years of life. It was nothing. A mere inconvenience. But now, sickness played a different role since you became a parent--or, rather when your child fell ill. The feeling of helplessness brought on by not being able to take it away at once and give them comfort. It was just a cold, but it was your baby’s. That was one of the many awful feelings you felt. 

You watched with exhaustion as Adam paced around the room, lightly bouncing Aydith in his arms. She had been crying for what felt like an eternity now. It didn’t help that the damn cold hit right around when she had begun to really teeth. You were at a loss of what to do. Mantis had offered to put her asleep, but you didn’t want her to use any powers on your daughter. Not when she was so little. Not when you didn’t know how it could impact her. If you hadn’t brought her to Earth to visit your grandfather last weekend, this wouldn’t have happened. How were you supposed to know the bug was going around? 

“This is all my fault.” You exhaled, shaking your head. Gods, you just wanted to cry with her. “I exposed our baby and now she’s infected. I’m a horrible mother.”

Adam made his way over to you, Aydith’s cries only amplifying. At this point, you were quite sure that all of Knowhere had been awakened by them. How such a little thing could be so loud was a question you didn’t have an answer to. Just like how you didn’t have an answer as to how to ease your daughter’s distress. 

“This is no fault of yours, Y/N. And it is impossible for you to even be remotely considered a below average parent. Please don’t ever think like that.” He tried to assure you, his tone sympathetic. “I’ve done a great deal of reading and it is quite common for human infants to contract it. Our child is half Sovereign, I am more than certain that being so lessens the chances of this developing into anything serious.” 

He had done research. A lot of it. As soon as Aydith let out her first cough, Adam had gone into protective parent mode and scoured through the entirety of what felt like every medical file in the galactic internet in search of answers. Meanwhile, you had reluctantly allowed Nebula to run some scans knowing full well that your baby was more than safe. That the Luphomoid would never do something that would put her in harm’s way. Still you worried, even after your partner was relatively satisfied with what he found. 

“She sounds so miserable, and it’s like nothing I do makes any difference.” You looked over at Adam as he took a seat beside you. “I hate this. I hate this more than any of those assholes we’ve ever had to fight--and I’m not trying to be dramatic, but this is my baby and she is upset and nothing I try helps! I…” You inhaled deeply, trying to reel yourself back in. “When I first met you, I didn’t think it was possible to fall so deeply in love again--and even though this is a different kind of love, I just feel like I’m failing.” 

Adam’s cheek rested against the baby’s as he maneuvered her so he had a free arm to put around you. “Your feelings are more than valid, my love. I wish I could ease your stress equally as much as I wish for our daughter’s recovery.” He leaned over and pressed a kiss to your temple. “You need your rest. I can tell you are very tired. Let me take care of Aydith.” 

You shook your head, fighting back a yawn. That would’ve only proved his point. “I’m fine.” You told him firmly. “I don’t need sleep. Not when she is like this.” 

“But you do, especially as you’ve had the same exposure as her.” Adam countered, gazing straight into your eyes. “You becoming sick like her won’t do either of you any benefits, my love, so please, I implore you to sleep. Please don’t make me call upon Mantis to assist you.” He really had an odd way of saying things sometimes. “Deal?”

Adam was right. You really needed to rest. All of your energy had been spent long ago worrying and taking care of your daughter. As much as you hated to admit it, you weren’t any use to her if you were out of commission yourself. Frowning softly, you gave in and nodded. 

“Okay.” You responded reluctantly, but finally agreed. “But if she seems like she is getting worse, you’ll get me up. And you won’t let me sleep too long.” 

“I suppose that is reasonable enough.” He accepted as Aydith whined, wriggling in his grasp. Adam shifted her to his other shoulder and gently patted her back. “I shall take her in another room so it is quieter for you. We’ll be fine, won’t we, my tiny comet?” 

Your mouth curved into a small smile, the first you’ve had in awhile. He was so good with her. So amazing that it made you love him that much more. You couldn’t ask for a better father for your child. And Gods did he adore her too. Talk about you hitting the jackpot. 

You leaned in, kissing Aydith’s flushed cheek. “Only a nap, nothing too long.” You reminded Adam, taking a moment to kiss him. “And if she gets worse…” 

“You have my word,Y/N. But I assure you, all will be well. Aydith is strong like her mother.” He hummed, glancing over at his daughter. “Now we will step out so you can sleep. I love you dearly and, though she cannot talk yet, I know Aydith shares my feelings too.” 

“I love you both too.” And you wished there was a more powerful word to convey that. 

Lying on your bed, you didn’t expect for you to fall asleep as quickly as you did. You honestly thought your body would fight your mind over remaining conscious. But you were gone. Floating in a dreamless state. A dark void enveloping you in a tight embrace. If it wasn’t for the distant sound of rhythm, perhaps you would’ve stayed there.

Your eyes opened, mind still fuzzy from sleep as you sat up. The music you heard was definitely there, not something you had dreamed up. And something about the tune felt so familiar. Adam and Aydith were nowhere to be seen--but what was more surprising, you couldn’t hear the softest of whimpers. Slightly worried, you forced your body up and made your way over to the doorway that led to the small space that served as your living room. The music grew louder as you quietly peeked in. 

The Lion Sleeps Tonight by The Tokens. That’s why you recognized it. You didn’t remember much from your childhood on Earth, but you had the vaguest of memories of your mother playing that along with a few other songs when she was trying to coax you and Peter into falling asleep during a long car ride. You noticed the clunky radio Phyla had gifted to you--or rather, Aydith, as a present. The thing was pretty old and banged up, but that kinda gave it character. You looked away from it, your attention suddenly drawn to the figure standing right in the center of the room. 

What Adam was doing, you couldn’t exactly call it dancing. It was more so like a bobbing, rocking sort of motion that kinda gave off the impression of someone having literal ants in their pants. Sometimes he’d sway back and forth before immediately stopping in his tracks to do knee bends. It was the strangest and yet, oddly cute thing you’d ever seen him do. And when you listened closely, he was even singing under his breath. Until that moment, it hadn’t even clicked in your mind that he was still holding Aydith. Nor that she was finally asleep. 

“Hey.” You whispered, trying your best not to startle him. “Whatcha doing?” 

Adam’s head snapped in your direction. “Oh! I’m sorry, did I wake you?” You shook your head and he sighed in relief. “Good. I have successfully aided our child.” “I can see that.” You smiled, making your way over to him. “You give Peter a run for his money with those moves.” 

Adam beamed. “I call it The Dad Disco--I’m not quite sure what disco looks like, but I really liked the sound of it.” He looked down at the baby and you could’ve sworn his eyes sparkled. “I must admit, I was growing concerned but then when she finally fell asleep…well, I feel very accomplished now. I’m glad she’s out.”

“Me too.” You replied, admiring your daughter in his arms. “You’re an amazing dad, you know that?” 

“I certainly couldn’t do it without you. We make quite the team, don’t we?” Adam smiled at you.

“Yeah. I’d say we’re pretty great together.” You reached out and lightly touched her small hand. “She makes it all worth it, huh?” 

“Every millisecond.” He fell silent, eyes fixed on her before focusing on you. “If she stays asleep when I put her down in the crib, would you care to have a dance with me? I promise that we don’t have to do The Dad Disco. That’s more reserved for Aydith.” 

You gave him a grin. “I think I would like that very much.”

[sunnywalnut]

I miss when autistic rep was on accident. I feel like every time a neurotypical/allistic person tries to write somebody with autism on purpose, it just comes off as "he's a total jerk, but he's REALLY GOOD at what he does" instead of "this guy's facial expression doesn't change very much, but I promise you he's absolutely happy to help. Also talk to him about birds. He fucking loves birds."

And I don't mean "he loves birds" as in "this guy wears bird shirts 24/7 and corrects you if you accidentally call a pigeon a dove." No. I mean "he loves birds" as in "he's able to name the sound of the bird just by it's song and point to it and it's just sitting on the rooftop next to you" and if you ask questions he gets this little smile to his face and answers them all and even tells you about some drama about two researchers who were unsure of they could call two birds different species since they were so similar and then gives you the answer of they can, because their beaks are different and that means their diet is different or whatever.

Not every autistic dude in media has to be "UwU save me from the world and take care of me bc I'm just a smol beannn✨"

Sometimes they're just Chad from maintenance who seems to love his job a bit more than he should, but it's all good bc everything that's fixed works even better than it was before it was broken. He's not creepy or anything. But he WILL call you over if he sees you walk past in order to show off his latest repair and talk to you about what he did. Everyone loves Chad. They're happy that he's as dedicated to his job as he is. Plus it makes the office a lot more bearable to have him around because he always seems to wear this gigantic grin and talk with his hands.

You're absolutely able to have "cute" autistic characters. I have cute autistic characters.

I have a little elf girl that counts each individual strand of her hair when she's nervous and climbs trees. She loves baking, so much so that she will make everything gluten free, kosher, dairy free, vegan, whatever you need in order to make sure you're included. As soon as she steps into a garden, she's completely covered in dirt. And yes, she's extremely friendly and doesn't understand social cues. And sure. She has her boyfriend take care of things for her, like keeping her safe from creeps when she's in public, and shutting down scammers before she can pay them, but it's not because she's dumb. It's because he elected himself into that space. And he knows full well that if she decides to scurry off to whatever wonderful thing that has caught her eye, that she'll wander back to him when she's ready. She knows how to defend herself. And he trusts her. And she does things for him as well. Which is something I don't see in autistic/allistic relationships in media at all.

Like do y'all really think our partners are just our glorified babysitters???

We're not just there to sit still and look pretty.

We're there to be your emotional rock. We tend to have high empathy. We can listen to your problems and validate your emotions. And sure, we might give you some advice that seems a bit wonky at best, but anyone can do that. Not just autistic people.

Sometimes we take over financial decisions, for one reason or another. I had a partner that would always come to me for financial advice despite living on their own and having more than enough money to do what they wanted with, but they knew that I could budget better. I'm good at math. And no, not a "math wiz" all A's kind of good. But a "I can do big number addition/subtraction and sometimes multiplication within seconds in my head" which was also really helpful in my culinary class when my teacher would put me in charge of making sure we were on target with how many servings of food we had. Not every autistic person has to be leagues above the rest academic to be autistic. My allistic brother had straight A's for YEARS. Much longer than I did. I had A's and B's.

You can come to us if you need a hug. Or to cuddle. Or to body double. Or just to hang out. Some autistic people like touch. We crave it. I can guarantee you that if we were friends and you climbed up on the couch next to me and laid your head in my lap, I would let you. No questions asked. I'd even pet your hair. And I'd ask you about your day. I can't count how many times high fives have turned to hand holding with my friends because they needed a loving talking to about how great they are. Or a back rub when they're crying. Not all of us are going to stand there, staring down at you while you're curled up on the floor and be like "STATISTICALLY SPEAKING-" yeah no. And the people who DO that likely are trying to relay information that they know that they think will help you feel better. We're odd, but we're not heartless. Let me get down on your level. Sit with you. And then I'll talk to you about how tears are actually really healthy and it's good that you're able to cry. And also I'm proud of you and let's get you some water, okay?

We can take care of you too!!

I give all my friends hair care advice bc I've spent too much time watching hair stylist videos. I tell them to make sure they lotion after every shower when they complain about dry skin or body acne. I tell them to drink water after they cry. Or wash their face. Or alternate ways they can get around invisible barriers and still get what they need done. You know how many times I've had to sit down problem solve with my loved ones for over an HOUR bc their ADHD decided not to let them brush their teeth or take a shower? I have a whole ARSENAL of advice to give you. And yeah. If you're close enough where I can head over to your place, I WILL do your dishes(bc somehow they're less gross than mine). I WILL wash your hair for you, or fold your clothes or clear the counters of trash. Not because I think you're lazy or nothing. But because I see something that needs to be done, and I do it. Because I love you, it's simple, and hey, I'm here anyways, right?

Like shit. Every night I have a sleepover with my best friend, I do the dishes that were in her sink before I even came over while she starts on dinner. Because I love her. And that's my way of paying her back for picking me up. I clear all our trash, and the scraps of tea bags that she missed in the mornings. Because I love her. And it's simple enough I can do it myself. I chop the garlic as we cook together because we're working as a team. And yeah. After it's all over. We sit on the couch like a bunch of lazy dogs and watch TV and chat and do whatever. And sometimes. We don't do anything but just enjoy each other's company. Because as adults, we don't get a lot of time to just relax.

We all have our own strengths and weaknesses. And sure. Being friends with an autistic person isn't always sunshine and rainbows. Sometimes our behaviors or our tenancies can be stressful. Like sensory meltdowns, or our bluntness(which is honestly usually just us saying exactly what is true without sugar coating it. Like if you said the sky was purple I'd be like "nah it's blue rn" and people find that blunt and rude. But to me, that's just a fact. I'm not saying you're dumb. I'm just saying it's blue right now.) or sometimes, even when we get super hyper about our interests. I would know. I'm autistic myself. And I irritate myself.

But it seems like in media, the irritation is all people can see. Even in "supportive" families that I see in shows and such, everyone's always stressed all the time.

You're telling me ONE LITTLE CHILD is tearing this entire family apart? (*COUGH COUGH Young Sheldon COUGH*) Not only is that stupid, that's just inaccurate.

If you wanna be accurate, maybe don't have every autistic person you write be a "high functioning" male in a doctor's coat who's transphobic as fuck and his excuse being he's autistic.

If you know the bitch is outwardly transphobic, don't fucking put him in the room with trans people.

And also?

Autistic people are allowed to learn the difference between sex and gender. We're ALLOWED to learn about queer identities. And we're ALLOWED to be queer ourselves without being labeled as idiots who don't know any better.

I've YET to see a show about an outwardly queer autistic girl who is able to make awesome friends and overcome her challenges WITHOUT succumbing to being an asshole on purpose.

Except for The Owl House. And Luz isn't even canonically autistic. It's just speculated.

THAT is good autistic representation.

Not whatever the fuck "The Good Doctor" is supposed to be.

My Personal List Of Good Autism Rep Recs(non canon, sadly):

-Good Omens(not explicitly canon, but multiple characters behave in a way that could be labeled as autistic. Plus Neil Geiman, the writer himself is autistic)

-The Owl House(again. Not explicitly canon. But great. The whole show is about accepting yourself as you are and is kinda along the lines of Gravity Falls. In fact, she was in a relationship with Alex Hirsh, creator of Gravity Falls. And also she's bisexual with a CANONICALLY BISEXUAL LEAD!! Also is lovely for mental health allegories too)

-Gravity Falls (the whole Pines family just REEKS autism to me. Noncannon.)

-How To Train Your Dragon(Hiccup is autistic as hell and you can't convince me otherwise. Non canon)

-Adventure Time (some of the humor is dated, but enjoyable. Also Princess Bubblegum. Need I say more?)

-We Bare Bears (slice of lifey. Sometimes childish. Sweet as hell though. Grizz feels very autistic to me, but that could also be because I enjoy how huggable and easily excitable he is. Everyone loves him. He's loud, he can absolutely be obnoxious, but he loves his bros and tries his best to give everyone the benefit of the doubt. He also does his best to fix any problems he makes. Which in my book, makes him a good guy. Some people also claim Ice Bear is autistic. But personally, I feel like he just doesn't talk much. What do you guys think?)

[heaven-s-black-box]

Cake- Wriothesley x wife!oc & daughter!Reader

Return to File

Recovery date: May 3rd, 2024

Description: Hello I just got an idea, what if Wriothesley had a wife and daughter living in the court of Fontaine, the reader being his daughter, and they'd occasionally visit him and they met the traveler and Paimon during their most recent visit and they decided to ask Wriothesley about them.

Notes: This work was recovered in conjunction with an anonymous researcher, we thank them for their contributions.

Word count: 617

Back to directory

“Excuse me,” a small voice asks from behind Lumine and Paimon. They turn around to find a young girl staring up in awe at Paimon; a woman stands behind her, one hand on her shoulder and the other holding a bag. “Are you a fairy?”

“Who, Paimon?” The little girl nods excitedly, eyes twinkling. “No, Paimon’s Paimon!”

In all honesty, the floating guide isn’t sure how to answer that question. So she diverts the kids' attention.

“What are you doing here?”

The little girl looks back at, presumably, her mother who offers an encouraging nod.

“I’m here to see my daddy!”

“And who’s your daddy?” Lumine asks, crouching down to be eye level with the child.

Something about the little girl looks familiar, but what really catches her eye is the silver locket hanging around her neck. There’s an incredibly familiar wolf emblem raised on the metal with an opal eye set in, the animal and the color invoking a certain prison warden.

“Well, well, well,” Wriothesley’s voice sung. “And what crimes have we committed this time?”

The little girl spun around so fast everyone was worried she would knock herself off balance. A wide grin broke across her face and a high pitched squeal bubbled up from the back of her throat.

“Daddy!” She yelled, sprinting towards the Duke and lunging at him.

“There’s my little princess,” he laughed, catching her under the arms and spinning her up in the air.

She laughed as he peppered her face in kisses, resting her on his hip as the woman approached them. She kissed him, earning a retching sound from the kid, and Wriothesley wrapped his other arm around her waist to tuck her into his side.

“Traveler, Paimon!” He greeted the two. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“We were just getting ready to head off to Natlan,” Paimon explained as they walked over. “We were saying goodbye to all our friends.

“Daddy has friends?!” The child gasped.

In response, Wriothesely knocked his head against hers and earned himself a whine. He stared into her eyes for a long moment until she broke down into a fit of giggles and buried her face in his neck.

“Yes, I do,” he laughed, leaning his head against hers. “Why don’t you introduce yourself, huh?”

He kissed her cheek as she turned to look at Lumine and Paimon.

“My name is Y/n.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Y/n,” Lumine smiled. “My name is Lumine.”

“And Paimon’s Paimon!” Paimon turned to Wriothesely as the little girl tucked herself back into her father’s shoulder. “We didn’t know you had a family.”

“We live in the court,” the woman, presumably his wife, said. She extended her hand and introduced herself. “Unfortunatelyyy someeeoneee,” she dragged out the end of her words, “was sentenced to visiting her daddy by the chief justice himself.”

“Since when does Neuvillette concern himself with your visits?”

“Since you’ve been so busy that you couldn’t come see us,” she kissed his cheek before turning back to Lumine and Paimon. “He’s been so busy since the flood, Monsieur Neuvillette passed on Mademoiselle Sigewinne’s concerns that our beloved Duke was working too hard. Trying to make time for us.”

“So Sigewinne told on me,” Wriothesley huffed.

“Oh, daddy! I lost a tooth!”

“You did? Let me see.”

As Y/n pulled back her upper lip to show off the hole where her tooth used to be, letting Wriothesley exam the space, her mother addressed the traveling duo again.

“Would you like to join us for tea before you set back off? I brought cake.”

She held up the bag she’d been carrying.

“Cake? Lumine can we?”

“Sure, why not.”

[a-dinosaur-a-day]

(Prehistoric Planet person) thanks! And it's okay to take all the time you need, obviously <3

My first question is: how do you feel about it being set in the Late Cretaceous period only? While it is my favourite, I also think it's a little lacking. For example, we only get to see titanosaurs this way. I'd like to see some other sauropods! I want to see what they'd make of Amargosaurus. But, in terms of the narrative, I get why they stay in one period during an episode, at least. So I'm just wondering what your thoughts on that are! Esp if you have time period you'd like them to show.

I also wondered about the bit in the North America episode where the Styginetta are called "duck relatives," but then seconds later the script mentions "but there are also dinosaurs here." It annoyed the crap out of me for the obvious reason of. Well. Birds are just as much dinosaurs as troodontids. So why on earth would they separate the two? Is there a reason? Or is it the face-value slip-up?

Along that line, are there any mistakes that you think they made? I know it was well-researched and all, but surely there's points still to be disagreed upon, right? Or was it overall well done?

Those where honestly my big questions. I thought I had more, but that's kind of it. I guess to end it off I could ask if there's a dino you'd like to see show up in there? (Personally, I want to see Panoplosaurus or Borealopelta :D)

Thanks for taking the time to answer me!

So I get completely why they went with just the Maastrichtian. The whole series is supposed to be "Planet Earth" or "Blue Planet" but at a specific point in the past. All of the animals were, more or less, contemporaneous. So they're trying to show a "snapshot" of the Earth 66 million years ago, as if they were doing Planet Earth then. The whole series reads very much like that - Planet Earth, but 66 million years ago. There are downsides to that, like not highlighting things that existed in other time points, but it makes sense to me. I just want other time points to get similar treatments! Especially because the animals of the Maastrichtian are some of the more famously known prehistoric animals (T. rex, Mosasaurus, Triceratops, Quetzalcoatlus...). I'm hoping the amazing success of Prehistoric Planet leads to more series in other time points. I personally think we need a Triassic series, pronto. It's a weird time period that very very very few people appreciate properly. Selfishly, I'd like a Paleocene or Eocene series, so I have even a 1% chance of getting consulted.

I know the whole story behind the bird-dinosaur snafu with Styginetta, and its not a happy one. The main science consultant on the series, Darren Naish, is one of the leading pioneers in "treat birds like regular dinosaurs you fools" movement - frankly, I learned a lot of what I know from him. He wanted them to acknowledge Styginetta as a dinosaur. It was higher up execs who put the kibosh on that. They literally said no, they would not call birds dinosaurs. The excuses given were crap - something about being accessible to audiences - but we all know that's bullshit. Walking with Dinosaurs called birds dinosaurs in 1999. Jurassic Park called birds dinosaurs in 1993. I don't know what their actual reason is, but whatever it is, it's a bad one. I'm going to blame capitalism and shareholders until proven otherwise. I recognize this sounds like I'm spouting conspiracy theories, but it's not a conspiracy if people involved openly admit this is what happened! Like... damn. this is why scientists and artists suffer - meddling capitalists.

Overall I have very few complaints. I think there could have been more emphasis on the fact that many of these behaviors are our *best guesses* - like, well thought out hypotheses, many even tested, but not fact. In any dinodoc, a lot of the uncertainty about paleontology goes out the window for the sake of storytelling, and that's why I think making of/the science behind features should be part of every dinodoc, not a side note or a podcast or something. They kind of did that in s2 by having the science segments at the end, but that only went into the research for one behavior per episode - not nearly enough to show everything. If people understood more how science works and how research works, we'd have fewer problems... and that's a perfect way to show it to people. Other than that, most of my critiques are really and truly nitpicks, or something I'd want them to show that they haven't, that kind of thing. But honestly, its the best depiction of the Maastrichtian I have ever seen.

I'm personally irritated we haven't seen Thescelosaurus. It's not just a generic bipedal ornithischian! That thing was WEIRD. First of all, we know more about it than most nonavian dinosaurs because we have lots of great fossils. Second off, it had armor on its belly!!! We think they kicked each other like Pachycephalosaurs butted heads!! WHY IS THAT NOT IN A DOC??? Third off, it was just an important component of Hell Creek, which we've now seen in multiple segments, and yet... no Thescelosaurus... wtf, amiright?

And you are very welcome!!! I'm glad I could answer it now :D So yeah, I love PP, but it's not perfect, and there are things I would fix if I could ^_^ That said, huge shoutout to Darren for making this happen. The man is a hero for us all.

[librarycards]

*might be sending this to a bunch of people with great blogs who I really like and appreciate

saw a claim made that ocd "can never be cured, like thatevery person who has ocd will always deal with it, "have it" and that's because ocd is caused by a "chemical imbalance in the brain" and that it's been "proven by research". so they say you can't deal with ocd for only a few months or years, if you say you have than it wasn't actually ocd you're lying or exaggerating. which I find ridiculous and insulting, but than they say something worse "research has proven it's chemicals in the brain" which sounds even more ridiculou (im anti-psychiatry all the way. but what can I say to that?! any thoughts?? is this person referencing any real research? or just made up pro psychiatry nonsense??

I'm afraid I might not have a satisfying answer to this ask, mostly because I'm 1) agnostic (at my most generous) to the "chemical imbalance theory" of "mental illness" (as it were). there is nuance to this: i don't think that we are somehow entirely unaffected by our brains, in terms of structure and contents etc. Rather, I think that the construction of "mental disability" is relatedly only tangentially to what our brains actually "do." That is, the construction of mental disability preceded and continues to exceed what is capable of being known about the brain "itself," because mental disability is first and foremost a social, medical, legal, linguistic construction. Little more evidence of this is needed than the fact that I have never had my brain scanned, yet have been diagnosed with myriad mental disabilities and institutionalized against my will. The brain is to mental disability what "sex" is to gender –– a mythology of concreteness designed to (unsteadily) bolster the flimsiness of the diagnosis, the assignment.

While I am also uninterested in recovery as a paradigm, and in theorizing what it might look like to be "free" of a certain part of the way i move through the world (ocd included), I am interested in collective healing with and through self-determination and free association. What I know for sure, despite the murkiness of everything else, is that it is possible to substantially improve your quality of life in a wide variety of ways: some people find medications that help, some counselling (whether professional or informal). Others choose spirituality and meditation. Others self-direct using freely available therapeutic resources. Still more enlist the help of their friends and loved ones to keep track of types of behavior they'd like to avoid. And, of course, some don't do any of that, and it is their right to do so, so long as they are not endangering others, regardless of how shitty it feels (both for them and the people who care about them).

so: I'm giving you a non-answer. I don't believe in cure because I don't believe in disability-as-disease. I think people who are obsessed (haha) with figuring out the etiology of different diagnoses are at best naïve and at worst eugenicist. (Note: i am not upset with you, nor do I think you're a eugenicist or any other genre of bad person! Thinking about these things does not make you bad. Asking these questions in good faith does not make you bad, either.) I think that we will be much better positioned to talk about living and improving together when we forget chemical imbalances or medical decrees of terminality or unrecoverability or treatment resistance, and start thinking about things we can do in our lives now that help us create better futures.

[uwukillmenowowo]

𝐅𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐓𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐆𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥 [Tokyo Debunker X F!Reader]

[ 5 | Quiz] 『❓』

Key's for the story: Insert - Narrative - And then she stared at her reflection in the mirror [Insert] - Author speaking - [Eyyy there- wazzup readers] "Insert" - Talking - "Hey there!" [But can also be air quotes] 'Insert' - Thinking - 'Dame he's cute...' "Insert" - Whispering - "I- I messed up..." [But can also be an emphasis on a word/phrase, or flashback] (Insert) - Inner mind..? - (Deadass doesn't know how to explain it here) *Insert* - Action - *Sighs with their head down*[INSERT] - Magic - [OFF WITH YOUR HEAD!] or [IGGNAIM!]

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫: [ 4 | Academy] 『🖤』

━━━✦❘༻🔮༺❘✦━━━

[Book 0] The Academy of Ghouls

[Chapter 5] Time for the Dorm Quiz!

━━━✦❘༻🔮༺❘✦━━━

{Your POV}

~~~~~

After both Haku and professor Nicolas left, it was just me and professor Hyde. "Do you remember the anomaly you encountered on the train?" I tilted my head. "Anomaly..?" The professor gave me a surprised look. "Wait, no one gave you the brief yet? How'd you get here?" I hummed and explained. "Um... A monster attacked me on the train, then a a red haired boy... I believe his name was Taiga? Yeah, he showed up."

The professor nodded. "Right." Then I continued to explain, "Then he attacked me too for some reason, but Haku saved me..." Professor Hyde became even more surprised. "No way, Taiga did what? Sory, gonna have to pretend I didn't hear that part... So then you rode the Galexy Express all the way to our hallowed halls of learning without a clue, huh?" I nodded.

"Well, if you've seen that much, this won't take long. All the weird stuff you just described? They're all what we call anomalies." I asked more about what anomalies were. "There are things in this world that defy the rules society has deemed common sense. The kinds of things people call the occult or paranormal phenomena or cryptids. We're a global organization that searches out anomalies so we can study and regulate them. Darkwick Academy is our cover, as well as our training facility. In other words, we're the Japan branch of a heroic organization that defends world peace from the shadows."

I just blinked twice and nodded slowly. "Okay..." At least half of what Professor Hyde said went over my head... But having seen the anomalies he was describing with my own eyes, it was difficult for me to refute it. 'It's hard to believe but I guess this means that anomalies are the same as phantoms...'

"And not only am I a professor at Darkwick, I'm also one of the world's leading anomalous researchers~ I'm sure you've figured this out already, but I'm brilliant, so just lay back and spill all your secrets." 'I'd... rather not' I thought and sweatdropped. "Come on now, no need to be nervous! Let's get down to business." Professor Hyde sat back and called out merrily.

"Hodge! Podge! It's counseling time!" That's when two floating hands came in, holding a typewriter. 'Surprisingly... that's not the most shocking thing I've seen.' "I'm going to ask you some questions. All you have to do is answer truthfully. Don't overthink it." I nodded and the floating hands started typing. 

"Your said you encountered an anomaly covered head to toe in flowering plants, correct?" I nodded, "Yes, I did." "Did you see it's eye?" "An.. eye..?" I thought back to when I met the flower monster. "Yeah... It had one big eye where its face should have been." "Did you make eye contact?" He asked to which I nodded again. "I see... That's a shame. Hodge, Podge, write "Confirmed""

The sound of the letters being inscribed into the paper echoed throughout the quiet room. I laughed nervously. "Hmm? Oh sorry, are they distracting you? They like to people watch. The right hand with the red ribbon is Hodge. The left hand with the black lace glove is Podge." I just nodded again. "Don't worry. We just want to understand what happened to you." The right hand with the ribbon waved and me and I waved back. Meanwhile, the left hand tapped its index finger on the table somewhat impatiently.

"All right, let's take a peek inside your noggin next, shall we? Hopefully it didn't mess around in there too much. Take a look at these questions and pick the answer that vibes with you most. Just go with your first instinct."

[This does not really affect the main story. But I'm getting you Frostheim because of Kaito and Luca. But I personally got Jabberwock.]

Some photos were shown: The Tokyo tower, gothic setting with candles among red roses, friends holding up champagne glasses, clear blue skies among free green grass, wisteria trees, an aurora over a lake, and an hourglass. 

For this I chose: The Tokyo Tower

The next was asking my greatest fear: People thinking I'm boring, People thinking I'm ignorant, People thinking I'm a failure, People thinking I'm a bad person, Being surrounded by constant conflict, Being abandoned and alone, and Being powerless.

For this I chose: I'm a failure

Next, Which animal best represents you: An eagle, A lion, A tiger, A wolf, A cat, A bunny, and a snake

For this I chose: A lion

Which birthday gift would you want the most: Custom-made birthstone jewelry, Money, Tickets to my favorite museum, Handmade scrapbook of memories with friends, A plane ticket to my happy place, Luxury car, or something practical from my wish list.

For this I chose: Custom-made birthstone jewelry

How do you want people to remember you: Powerful, Open-minded, Trustworthy, Brave, Unique, intelligent, or successful.

For this I chose: Powerful

If you could have any superpower, what would it be: Shapeshifting, Never have to sleep, Time travel, Extreme luck, Make people follow my orders, Elemental powers, or Gravity control.

For this I chose: Shapeshifting

On a Saturday night you can be found...: Writing or drawing, Learning a new skill, Fundraising for a cause I'm passionate about, Boardgame night, Walking along the beach with a friend, Hosting a party with an exciting theme, or unwinding at a hip bar.

For this I chose:  Learning a new skill

What is your greatest flaw: I'm a perfectionist, I'm obsessive, I'm manipulative, I'm a pessimist, I'm anxious, I'm self conscious, or I'm complacent.

For this I chose: I'm a perfectionist

What food makes you happy: Pizza, Steak, Wine and cheese, Cookies shaped as cats, Pancakes with cream and fruits, or dessert with tea.

For this I chose: Steak

"All done!" Professor Hyde said as he grabbed all the photos and notes. in one hand and peered at the typewriter on the table. He read the words rapidly appearing on the paper and whistled. "Interesting, so you value success, huh? You're self-confident and relentless in the pursuit of your goals. In my experience, you'd do well in Frostheim House." I blinked twice. "Frostheim..?"

"Oh, they're going to draw it for you now. Don't waste any time, these two............. Looks like they're done." Then, Hodge and Podge gave me a card. "That's a Frostheim Warding card. It's their gift to you!"

I awed at the beautiful scene on the card. "It's beautiful!" The picture was far more impressive than I had anticipated, considering how quickly it had been drawn. Hodge extended its palm toward me, as though requesting a handshake. Wanting to show my gratitude, I  gripped the floating extended hand, and gently shook it.

We then got up and left. "Let's walk and talk. Wouldn't want to keep the chancellor waiting." I nodded as we walked out of the room. "I'm surprised that the cut on my leg is gone thanks to that medicine." I mentioned. "Hmm. Professor Nicolas knows his way around a mortar and pestle. Embarrassing in a fight though." I giggled. "Does he get in fights often?"

Professor Hyde shrugged. "You saw Taiga fighting that anomaly, didn't you?" I nodded. "It's pretty common for encounters with anomalies to result in a bit of a scuffle. The Warding Card Hodge and Podge made for you is handy in times like that." I hummed. "This card?" I asked and held up the blue card. "You got it. Each one has a different when you carry it with you. They give you certain advantages in combat. Not that you'll be fighting any anomalies, but FYI." 

"What's this picture?" I asked as my finger traced over the stairs. "It's a painting of the house I said you'd do well in. All students here have to belong to a house. When they go on missions, they usually form teams with other students from the same house. *Tch* Not that any of them actually do what they're told."

'Yup- This practically is Night Raven's College...' I thought and sighed. "By missions... Is that where they go looking for anomalies, like you said earlier?" "Investigate, capture, manage, research... the whole bag" Professor Hyde explained. "Students do all that? Impressive." I awed.

"Ahaha! Being here might change you definition of elite" I chuckled internally, comparing Taiga and Haku to Tsunotaro and Lilia. "And here we are, the very place from which our mighty lord chancellor rules over it all." I bit my lip as we entered. "Your humble servant has returned, chancellor."

Over Professor Hyde's shoulder, I caught a glimpse of a winding spiral staircase and an opulent chandelier. The chancellor's office exuded an air of dignity that turned outsiders away at the door. 'It's much more beautiful than Headmage Crowley's office! Bigger too!' I awed and looked around the place. "I brought the witness. Come over here." I nodded and stood beside Professor Hyde. "Um.. Hello..." I greeted.

"You're late!" My jaw dropped as I saw a boy with a cat eared hat. 'THAT'S THE CHANCELLOR?!'  "A-A-A kid?" I questioned in shock. We were almost the same height after all. The small boy with his hands on his hips and his cheeks puffed out stood glaring up at Professor Hyde. "I did a counseling session with her first. We won't get far without knowing the cause, will we?"

"But I'm the chancellor! You're supposed to consult me first!" I sweatdropped and almost gasped. 'He really is the chancellor?!' I took in a deep breath and continued to watch his and Professor Hyde converse.

"Right, right, my bad. Here's the results." "Not an inch of you thinks it's your bad, does it? Honestly, it's like you make my life difficult on purpose..." Muttering to himself, the boy took the papers from Professor Hyde and turned his back to us. "That's the chancellor of Darkwick Academy. Not what you expected, eh? He may look like he just graduated from diapers, but hes actually-" "I can hear you, Professor Hyde." "..... a very important person." I giggled at the professor's nervous remark.

"It's wonderful to meet you, [Y/n]! My name is Cornelius. Welcome to our humble Darkwick Academy!" I nodded and bowed a bit. "Nice to meet you. I must say, you're very young for a chancellor, aren't you?" The chancellor chuckled. "Aren't you sweet? I get that all the time!" I hummed and thought, 'I guess the staff at elite schools are just as unique as the students... At least he isn't like Headmage Crowley...'

"Meow! meow!" 'And this is a lot of cats...' "Hush, everyone! I have some important business with our guest." The chancellor smiled as he spoke to the cats. "Break time's over- back to your posts. Go on, off you trot!" "Meow! Meow!" Upon the chancellor's command, he cats dashed up the staircase and, one by one, leapt through the window. "All right, that's them dealt with. Please, take a seat." I nodded and sat down. "Thank you..."

"I'll head out too, then. The materials on the anomaly are over here, Chancellor." "All right, thank you!" The chancellor thanked professor Hyde. "He's a little long-winded, but hand in there. Bye-Bye!" Professor Hyde waved to me with his hands folded behind his head, then strode unhurriedly from the office. "Honestly, that man just does not know when to shut his mouth... Anyway, had a rough time of it, haven't you? Let's take a look at your counseling results... Wonderful! No psychological interference." 

"Sorry... What exactly is this meeting for?" I asked, tilting my head. The lack of explanation was making me increasingly anxious. "Ahem... Well.... this is awfully difficult to say..." All of a sudden the chancellor stared at me with a serious expression.

"You've been cursed, and in one year's time, you will die."

𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫: [ 6 | Cursed] 『😈』