#speed it up and watch my unconventional methods...

[omppupiiras]

ok i couldn't resist, i had to draw vintage käärijä again

reference under the cut

[kiiboslostahoge]

A Tech-Demon's Weakness

Summary: Vox is much more angry than usual now that Alastor's back, and it's causing issues with the WiFi. Velvette makes Valentino calm him down, and the man decides to have some fun in the process.

Notes: These guys are supposed to be the most evil mfs even compared to the other overlords, why tf was their scene in the finale so cuteee agghh,😭😭😭, approx 1.5k words

Valentino had a problem. A large problem, in fact. One that he never usually had.

Vox. Vox was too angry to do his fucking job. It made no sense - Vox was supposed to help calm him down, not the other way around!

"That bitch keeps ruining my connection, Val! Some employee lost a day's worth of editing because it couldn't save!" Velvette had said before shooing him off. "Go calm him down so he stops making everything buffer! At this rate, we'll have another blackout."

Couldn't she do that herself? Valentino wasn't meant for these sorts of affairs! If only Vox was here to calm him down - he always did such a good job with that.

Wait. Vox couldn't calm him down, Vox was the one who needed calming! God, why was Vox so angry? The Alastor thing was cute to watch, but not when it ruined their Internet speed.

"Ugh, but I wanted to-"

"Shoo," Velvette said. "Do your job."

Velvette wasn't sympathizing at all, not like Vox did! Valentino was going to get back at that flat-faced man for causing him such a headache.

From Vox's lair, he could faintly hear swear-filled shrieks.

God, this was going to be such a pain. Valentino almost wanted to make Velvette do it but instead, but she'd just yell at him to calm down, and knowing how blindly rageful Vox was right now - that statement would only make him more angry, and the WiFi would only get even worse. Valentino didn't think he could handle the WiFi getting worse than it already was.

No. Calming Vox down would be easy, he knew it. He'd just need to resort to- Unconventional means.

What were the means in question? Valentino would decide that when he got there. He had a small mental list, though.

He sauntered downstairs, where Vox was hissing, furiously eyeing the screen, tracking Alastor like a cat would a laser pointer.

"That old-timey fucker doesn't know shit about this fucking-"

At some point, it had begun to seem like Vox was swearing for the sake of it. The action made sense, though. He had quite some anger to get out, and swear words were an excellent method of expelling anger.

"Vox," he crooned, because he was going to have fun with this. Unlike some demons who happened to have a flat face, a hatred for radio, and hypnosis powers, he wasn't an uptight little bitch.

"What is it?" The reply came instantly. "I'm busy."

And though that was ordinarily true, right now, Vox seemed like a typical chronically-online easily-trolled loser rather than the CEO who had almost all of the Prie Ring under his thumb.

"Relax a little, would you?" Valentino said, pinching at where Vox's cheek would've been were he not a TV screen and earning himself a slap of the wrist. "I hear you're getting a bit worked up over the radio demon."

"Of course I am! He's a-"

Before Vox could introduce anymore colorful swears that even he'd likely never head of, Valentino poked him in the stomach pointedly.

"Ah-ah," he said, unable to be anything other than endlessly amused by this. "You have to calm down, Vox! Can't you see you're acting irrational right now? Why, Alastor could never-"

He was cut off by Vox's static-filled rage.

"Oh, don't even start!" Vox said, but before he could continue his rant, as Valentino's hand accidentally grazed the back of his screen, he let out a static-filled yelp.

Valentino couldn't help but grin. Right. That was one of the best ways to force Vox to calm down.

The thing about the tech demon was that he was ridiculously, mortifyingly ticklish. And with that ticklishness came mortification. Emotional and physical sensitivity? There was nothing more exploitable than that.

"I almost forgot, darling! How could you possibly have let that happen?" He said, and though his statement had little elaboration, Vox knew what he meant.

A gulp was heard.

"V-Val, don't you fucking dare."

Really, though, how could Valentino possibly have forgotten about this? Vox's reactions were much too amusing, and Valentino hadn't even touched him yet! He'd have to do this more often.

"What should I refrain from doing?" He asked, savoring moment of this. A poke to Vox's side, followed by a velp. "This?"

"Prick," Vox said, looking away.

There was really no point to being insulting, was there, now? But this was an opportunity for Valentino.

"I'm hurt!" He said, feigning a pout. "You're so mean to me."

Vox grit his teeth at that, but before he could retort with whatever string of insults he had in mind, Valentino took the chance to dig his fingers into Vox's neck.

Already, Vox was struggling to hold in his laughter."

"I- haah- f-fucking-"

And then, Valentino reached his antenna.

"H-Hahahate you! Gah, fuhuck!" Vox squirmed futilely, namely, it was futile he wasn't actually moving away. Valentino hadn't bothered to hold him down, because for some reason, Vox never did manage to actually pull himself together and actively attempt to leave.

"Aww," he crooned, not bothering to give Vox a break. "Is big bad Vox so ticklish he can't help but lose his mind at the slightest touch? You know, I wonder what Alastor would think if he saw you now!"

Any hope of Alastor taking him remotely seriously would be crushed at that moment. Vox pouted, and at that moment, Valentino couldn't help but wonder.why he found a literal Flat screen television's pouting so adorable.

"Shuhut u-up!" He laughed, more giggled like a child, and it was, in all frankness, quite difficult to take him seriously. "L-Lehet me go, or I swear, I'll-"

Valentino prodded at a small wire end sticking out, and Vox's laughter devolved into pure static.

"There we go," he said.

After a while, Valentino finally had his fill, letting Vox go. Now, it was time to get his work out of the way and-

Wait, what was he here to do again? He'd forgotten.

Nevertheless, he was faced with a huffy, pouty Vox. What could be better?

"Come on, darling!" He said, placing a condescending hand on Vox's back, patting him as if he were a child. Because really, that was exactly what Vox was acting like right now. "Did you really loathe it that much? It isn't my fault, you know how I am. I just had to exploit your complete and utter inability to move away properly."

"Don't bring that up again," Vox said, voice low, almost a growl.

Valentino just tilted his head in amusement.

"What? Your utter inability to escape my clutches? I couldn't possibly do that!" He said. "It was much too amusing. You, completely able to leave at any moment, and yet you couldn't even muster up the brainpower to recognize your obvious escape! Honestly, if I didn't know much better, I'd even believe you were enjoying it!"

Vox slammed a fist on the table, eyes wide with embarrassment.

"S-Stop talking, prick!" He said, and the dots quickly connected in Valentino's head.

Oh. That was what was going on.

"You liked it, then?" He asked, though he already knew the answer. It was just funny watching Vox squirm.

"No I don't," Vox said, attempting to regain his typical demeanor - and succeeding, though Valentino knew him too well not to notice the shakiness of his voice. "I'm not even ticklish. Really-"

His right eye spiraled, and for a second, Valentino felt his thoughts cloud.

"Don't you trust me on that, Val?"

Vox's hypnosis wouldn't work that easily. Valentino quickly put an end to that by reaching for the loose wire, completely breaking Vox's concentration.

"G-Gah! You-"

"I should tell Velvette," Valentino said with a chuckle, because he knew how fearsome the thought of anyone knowing Vox's newfound secret would be, especially someone with as much of a penchant for blackmail as Velvette.

"D-Don't," Vox said. "Please."

Vox used the word 'please'? Miracles, it seemed, were not to miraculous after all.

Nevertheless, the mention of Velvette reminded Valentino that he, sadly, had things to do other than mess with Vox. Like get his WiFi back up to task.

"I won't," Valentino said. "If you stop watching the princess's hotel all the time."

Vox's eyes widened.

"And stop watching for that fucking Radio Demon? I don't really know why you think I'd ever do that."

"Then I suppose I'll just tell Velvette-"

"No, wait! Deal," Vox said, eyes filled with panic. Valentino smirked, drawing up the contract.

"Sign here, darling!" He said, and Vox hastily scrawled his signature onto the contract. Those things were good for more than getting souls.

"Fuck you," Vox said. Feisty once again, it seemed. Though he'd likely calm down shortly after. Hopefully with that, swear words would regain meaning to Valentino. It didn't feel ad gratifying to use them anymore - Vox had been using them so often they'd begin to feel like ordinary words.

Valentino just stayed silent, feeling his face stretch into a grin. He could vaguely make out Vox shooting him a concerned look.

Whatever. He'd discovered a new weakness of his dearest Vox's. And oh God, he was going to have so much fun with it.

[threewaywithdelusion]

RoyJamieKeeley Fic

Still working on my RoyJamieKeeley post-S3 fic. I got stuck again for a while, but I got unstuck tonight, so he's a little snippet to celebrate.

A few days later, Keeley and Jamie left for Brazil for Jamie’s Nike shoot. Left alone for a week, Roy tried to keep busy so he wouldn’t think about them. He spent time with Phoebe, who was starting to get impatient for summer holiday but could be convinced to spend all her wayward energy on playing football with Roy. He saw the yoga mums twice, once for actual yoga and once for a night of drinking wine, watching rom coms, and gossiping. He told them he’d gotten back together with his ex-girlfriend and they all smiled and told him how happy they were for him and how much more of a grump he’d been without her. Roy didn’t mention that said girlfriend was dating another man at the same time and told himself it was just leaving out unimportant information and not actually lie, but he wasn’t sure he believed himself. 

Roy also had a meeting with Rebecca, who told him she wanted to promote him to manager of Richmond. He called her mad to her face and she still seemed to think giving him the job was a good idea. 

“I don’t want to do press conferences and shit,” Roy said. 

Rebecca was unfazed. “Here are my options, Roy. I can make you manager, which is a job I think you’ll be good at. You know football, you know these boys, and they trust you, which makes you the best fit. I can make Nate manager, which I don’t particularly want to do after he defected to West Ham last year. He has experience and the boys seem to have forgiven him, but I don’t trust him enough yet to give him that much power. The other option is to bring in someone from outside the club. Higgins gave me a list of candidates and a lot of them are very qualified and are interested in working for Richmond now that we placed second in the Premier League, because they think they can get us a trophy next year. However, anyone I bring in is going to have their own style and they’re going to undo all the hard work Ted’s done over the past three years. And what Ted did, however unconventional, has been working for us. So, if you don’t take the job, any thoughts on how I should proceed?”

Roy grunted. It was a good argument and Rebecca knew it. 

Roy liked coaching Richmond. He didn’t really want to work with some new shitbag coach who would come in acting like he knew anything. Who might tell the team to stop playing total football or take that shitty, ripped-up “believe” sign off the wall. Who might not flip Jamie off in the middle of a game or push him to go back out even with an injured ankle. Who might not support Sam’s protests when they cost the club their main sponsor or might not like the fact that Colin had a boyfriend. Who might not defend Isaac in a post-game interview after Isaac attacked a fan in the stands for his homophobic comments or who would hear that famous women got their private photos leaked and react with less horror than the rest of the Richmond boys. 

Roy liked the culture Ted had created at Richmond. Sure, his methods had been downright insane at times, but they’d worked. This was a team that respected Keeley and Rebecca, that accepted Colin, and that tried to be good people as much as they tried to be good footballers. 

Roy didn’t want to lose that. 

“Fuuuuck,” he said, a curse of resignation and realization. 

Rebecca knew him far too well at this point, because she just smiled victoriously. “I’ll have Higgins send you the paperwork this week. We’re also going to be looking at player transfers, so I’ll send you tapes for anyone we’re considering. Do you have any thoughts about which players we should take a look at?”

Roy grunted. He’d had this job for all of three seconds and Rebecca was already giving him work. He hadn’t even told Keeley yet. 

“We need a centre back with more speed,” he said. 

“Noted,” Rebecca said. 

On the way home, Roy felt a strange kind of loneliness take over him. 

He’d gotten a promotion and even though he’d resisted it, he kind of wanted to celebrate. Like when Keeley had been made a CEO of her own company and they’d popped champagne and Roy had spun her around and they’d fallen into bed together. 

But Keeley was halfway around the world with Jamie. On vacation, even though she’d refused to go on vacation with Roy to Marbella last year. And Roy knew it was different — this was a work trip with some fun thrown in — but Keeley was just restarting her business with Rebecca as the main investor and she couldn’t possibly be less busy than she’d been last year. 

A tiny, mean voice in Roy’s head said that the difference was Jamie. That Roy hadn’t been worth the time away from the office, but Jamie was. 

Roy shoved the thought away. 

He went home to his big empty house and stared at the bottle of champagne in the fridge. He couldn’t tell the yoga mums he’d been promoted because they still believed he was an accountant and he had no fucking clue what accountants did or what the fuck their position was when they got promoted. Plus, he didn’t want to spend all evening lying about the job he was celebrating. 

The team was scattered around the world, visiting their home countries and families while they were on summer holiday. What other friends did Roy have? Keeley, who was his girlfriend again? Jamie, who was Keeley’s other boyfriend and was also not in the country? Rebecca, who was more his friend through the transitive property than anything and was also his boss?

Fuck this. 

Roy took the bottle from the fridge. He was about to pop the cork and drink straight from the bottle when his phone dinged with an incoming message. 

It was a series of photos from Keeley, showing her and Jamie shopping. One photo showed Keeley in a dressing room, trying on a dress that made her look fucking amazing. Another showed Jamie with about fifty bags dangling from his arms, posing like he was lifting weights. Keeley was standing beside him, holding one tiny bag, and grinning widely at having a fit footballer to play her pack mile. Then there was a picture of Keeley standing next to a suitcase with a price tag on it, presumably something she was buying to bring all her new clothes back to England, a cute guilty smile on her face. The last picture showed the two of them in a store, both wearing black leather jackets. The one on Keeley was ridiculously oversized and the comical frowns on both of their faces told Roy that they were dressing up as him. 

Another text arrived from Keeley. 

Miss you! Do you want either of these jackets?

Roy was very picky about his leather jackets, something that Keeley had learned early in their first go at a relationship when she’d tried to buy him a present. It may seem like Roy put no effort into his all-black look, but he was very particular about what clothes he thought was worth buying. 

It was sweet of Keeley to ask. 

Send a video, Roy texted back. 

A minute later, his phone dinged. The video was of Keeley in a dressing room, wearing a shimmery grey dress with one of the Roy-sized leather jackets over it. Roy had clearly interrupted her in the middle of trying on half the store because there were clothes over every inch of the dressing room. Keeley did a little spin for the camera and Roy caught Jamie’s reflection in the dressing room mirror, smiling at Keeley like he was in love. 

Fuck. 

Would Roy have had that indulgent, lovestruck expression on his face if Keeley had dragged him shopping for stupid graffiti clothes for Jamie? This was Jamie’s holiday with Keeley and she was still taking the time to message Roy and Jamie didn’t seem to mind at all. 

Roy’s phone dinged again, this time a message from Jamie. It was another video, showing Jamie walking along a wall of all-black clothes, including at least four different leather jackets. 

“I think we found your store, mate,” Jamie said, panning the camera so Roy could see the words John John lit up in the back over the counter. 

Fuck. Roy was being a sorry sad sack and a bit of a prick. And he absolutely refused to be the biggest prick in a relationship that included Jamie Tartt. 

You look beautiful, he sent Keeley. I like the jacket Jamie was wearing. 

Keeley sent back a series of smiley face emojis. 

Roy called her and she picked up on the second ring. “Hi, babe? How’s London?”

“I miss you,” Roy said. It was probably the easiest thing he’d ever said. Usually, Roy had trouble expressing any emotion that wasn’t anger and he knew that. But missing Keeley was all-consuming. It was a physical ache inside him, just as real as the pain from his knee, and he didn’t know how not to say it. 

“I miss you too,” Keeley said. 

“How’s Brazil?” Roy asked. 

“It’s good! I think the photoshoot with Nike went really well. They might offer Jamie a larger deal as a brand ambassador when we get back, but don’t tell Jamie that. I’m negotiating right now and I’m not sure it’ll go through.”

“I’m sure it well,” Roy said. “You’re a brilliant negotiator.”

“You’ve never seen me negotiate,” Keeley said. 

“Sure I have,” Roy said. “What about that time you convinced me to try being a pundit.”

“That was in your best interest, and I’m pretty sure we were arguing.”

“Or that time you convinced me to go to that launch party for that watch company you were promoting.”

“You have to admit, that was great press,” Keeley said. “Everyone’d heard the story about your ex stealing your Rolex, so you replacing the Rolex with a John Hubert watch really connected the two brands in everyone’s minds.”

“Well what about the time you convinced me to both cook and do the dishes when I made you a fancy dinner?”

“I bribed you with blowjobs,” Keeley said. “I don’t think I can use the same strategy here.”

Roy laughed. He felt so much better after talking to Keeley for just five minutes. Suddenly, he didn’t care that she was a continent away. He still wanted to tell her the good news. 

“Is Jamie there?” he asked. 

“He’s in his own dressing room,” Keeley said. 

Roy was surprised. He figured Keeley and Jamie would take shopping as a chance to watch each other strip in the same dressing room. But he knew fuck all about shopping, so maybe it wasn’t that weird that they were in two different stalls. 

“Can you get him?” 

There was a long pause that Roy knew was Keeley working through her surprise before she said, “Yeah, just a sec.” Her voice sounded slightly farther away as she called “Jamie!”

A moment later Keeley’s voice came out sounding a little more robotic. “You’re on speaker, babe.”

Roy cleared his throat. “I talked to Rebecca today. She made me manager.”

“What?” Keeley said, sounding stunned. 

Yeah, maybe he should have worked up to that instead of announcing it right out the gate. 

“She gave me Ted’s job,” Roy repeated. 

A whoop went up from Jamie, so loud that Roy had to pull the phone away from his head so he wouldn’t blow out his eardrums. 

“Congrats, mate! That’s fucking mint.”

Roy grunted. He didn’t say that he was bricking it over trying to fill Ted’s shoes, but Keeley must have released because she said, “You’re going to be amazing, babe. I’m so proud of you!”

“I don’t know,” Jamie said. “I mean, mostly Roy’s been coaching me so far. I’ve got more talent than all the boys on the team and I’m a pleasure to coach, so you can’t measure Roy’s success by how brilliant a player I am.”

“You’re a fucking nightmare to coach,” Roy said, even though it wasn’t actually true. Jamie did anything Roy said, even when it was embarrassing or he was pushing his body beyond what most coaches would demand of him. Roy liked telling Jamie what to do and seeing how hard he would work to achieve the impossible, even when the only reward was a little grunt from Roy. 

“I guess we’ll see if you can bring the other lads up to my level,” Jamie said, cockiness and disbelief in Roy’s coaching skills rolling together in his voice. 

Weirdly, Jamie’s pestering filled Roy with confidence that he could do this. He would be the best damn manager Richmond had ever seen, if only to prove to Jamie that he was wrong. 

“Be careful what you wish for,” Keeley told Jamie sweetly and that buoyed Roy the rest of the way up. Keeley believed in him. She believed in him enough to tell Jamie to suck it, even if she did it in nicer terms. 

Roy wanted to tell her he loved her, but the first time he told her after they got back together couldn’t be over the phone, with Jamie listening in, while Keeley was on another continent. 

Instead, Roy just said, “At least I know what the fucking offside rule is.”

Jamie and Keeley both laughed, though Jamie laughed harder. Roy wasn’t sure Keeley knew the offside rule, which was a travesty given how many footballers she’d dated.

“Well celebrate when I get back,” Keeley said. “That’s wonderful news, babe. I’m so happy for you.”

They said their goodbyes and when Roy hung up the phone, he felt a lot more determined and a lot less alone. 

He checked his inbox to find an email from Higgins with his new contract and and some player files with stats and videos. Several promising young players were listed, as well as some old-timers on their way to retirement from some of the better clubs. 

He poured himself a glass of champagne and settled in to do his job. 

[marketingprofitmedia]

Money at Warp Speed: 7 Ingenious Methods for Quick Wealth Accumulation

In a world where time is money, the pursuit of quick wealth accumulation has become a fervent race against the clock. We find ourselves on a perpetual quest for innovative, clever, and expedited methods to amass riches at warp speed. Welcome to the ultimate guide — a treasure map leading to seven ingenious strategies that could catapult your financial standing faster than you can say, “Cha-ching!” These unconventional and forward-thinking techniques will redefine the way you think about wealth-building. Buckle up as we explore the need for speed, the power of unconventional investments, entrepreneurial escapades, financial wizardry, passive income paradigms, and much more. Join us in unraveling the secrets to achieving financial success with lightning speed!

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The Need for Speed: Why Quick Wealth Matters

Quick wealth is vital in an uncertain world, providing financial security in emergencies. Early accumulation also allows investments to compound over time, leading to early retirement, fulfilling experiences, and the opportunity to make a lasting impact through philanthropy and legacy planning.. Let’s break down why speed matters in wealth building:

Economic Uncertainties: Rapid wealth can serve as a financial cushion during uncertain times, such as economic downturns or personal emergencies.

Investment Leverage: The earlier you accumulate wealth, the more time you have for your investments to grow and compound.

Enjoying Life Sooner: Quick wealth can mean early retirement, fulfilling travel adventures, and enjoying the finer things in life.

Philanthropy and Legacy: Fast wealth can enable you to make a difference and leave a lasting legacy for future generations.

Unconventional Investment Ventures

Unconventional investment ventures encompass high-risk, high-reward opportunities such as cryptocurrency investments and offbeat real estate choices. These strategies offer the potential for significant financial gains but require a willingness to explore less traditional and more innovative avenues for building wealth. In this section, we’ll explore unconventional investment ventures that have the potential to yield exceptional returns. These methods require a combination of risk tolerance, creativity, and a sprinkle of luck.

Cryptocurrency Craze: Betting on Digital Gold

Bitcoin Bonanza: The pioneering cryptocurrency, Bitcoin, has seen astronomical growth. Early adopters have become crypto millionaires. Dabble in Bitcoin but proceed with caution.

Altcoin Adventures: Beyond Bitcoin, explore promising alternative cryptocurrencies. From Ethereum to Cardano, there’s a world of digital opportunities.

NFT Niche: Non-fungible tokens (NFTs) are revolutionizing the art and gaming industries. Acquiring and trading NFTs could turn out to be a profitable digital adventure.

Offbeat Real Estate Ventures

Tiny Home Big Bucks: Embrace the minimalistic living trend by investing in tiny homes. These compact marvels can bring substantial rental income.

Luxury Treehouse Rentals: Create a unique experience for travelers by investing in luxury treehouse rentals. The allure of living among the treetops can be a goldmine.

Underground Investments: Yes, you read it right — underground properties! Caves, bunkers, and wine cellars can be converted into exotic living spaces or secure storage units.

Entrepreneurial Escapades

Entrepreneurial escapades involve venturing into unique business endeavors like dropshipping and subscription box services. These creative and entrepreneurial pursuits offer opportunities to generate income and build wealth through innovative and unconventional business models. Here are some unconventional entrepreneurial endeavors:

Dropshipping Dynasty

Retail Without Inventory: Dropshipping involves selling products without the need to keep them in stock. It’s a low-risk way to venture into e-commerce and generate substantial income.

Niche Dominance: Identify a niche with untapped potential and build a dropshipping empire around it. From customized pet products to quirky gadgets, niches are endless.

Social Media Stunts: Utilize the power of social media to promote your dropshipping business. Partner with influencers and create engaging content to boost sales.

Subscription Box Surprises

Curated Convenience: Subscription boxes have gained immense popularity. Create a subscription service tailored to a niche market, and watch the recurring revenue stream flow.

Monthly Mystery: People love surprises. Design boxes filled with curated products, from gourmet snacks to self-care essentials, and deliver joy to subscribers’ doorsteps.

Customer Connection: Build a loyal community around your subscription box brand. Engage with customers, take their feedback seriously, and constantly improve your offerings.

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Financial Wizardry

Financial wizardry encompasses advanced strategies like leveraging low-interest loans, peer-to-peer lending, and balance transfer tactics. These techniques require skill and finesse to optimize your financial situation and generate impressive returns. In this section, we’ll explore financial strategies that may require a bit of wizardry to work effectively.

Leveraging Low-Interest Loans

Loan Stacking: Accumulate multiple low-interest loans and invest the borrowed funds in high-return ventures. A risky strategy that can pay off big time if managed correctly.

Peer-to-Peer Lending: Explore peer-to-peer lending platforms to connect with borrowers in need of funds. You can earn interest on your loans, potentially outperforming traditional savings accounts.

Balance Transfer Alchemy: Transfer high-interest credit card balances to cards with low or zero interest for a limited time. This can save you a substantial amount on interest payments.

The Art of Flipping

Real Estate Flips: Purchase properties that need some TLC, renovate them, and sell at a profit. It’s a tried-and-true method for accumulating wealth relatively quickly.

Vehicle Ventures: Buy and sell used cars, motorcycles, or even boats. With some mechanical know-how, you can make impressive returns on your investments.

Domain Flipping: Purchase and sell domain names with potential. If you have a knack for spotting future trends, this can be a lucrative online business.

Passive Income Paradigms

Passive income paradigms involve creating income streams that require minimal ongoing effort. Examples include dividend investing, blogging, and real estate investments. These methods offer financial freedom by generating money consistently, allowing you to enjoy life while your investments work for you. In this section, we’ll delve into strategies for creating income streams that require minimal ongoing effort.

Dividend Delight

Stock Investments: Invest in dividend-paying stocks. Companies like Coca-Cola, Procter & Gamble, and Johnson & Johnson are known for their consistent dividends.

Real Estate Investment Trusts (REITs): REITs allow you to invest in real estate without the hassle of property management. They typically offer attractive dividends.

Dividend ETFs: Exchange-traded funds (ETFs) comprised of dividend-paying stocks offer diversification and ease of investment.

Blogging for Bucks

Content Creation: Start a blog and consistently produce high-quality content in a niche you’re passionate about. Over time, you can monetize your blog through advertising and affiliate marketing.

Affiliate Allure: Partner with companies and promote their products on your blog. You’ll earn commissions for each sale generated through your affiliate links.

Email List Empire: Build an email list of engaged readers and offer exclusive content or products. This is a direct way to generate income from a loyal audience.

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The Power of Passive Investments

Passive investments, such as index funds and robo-advisors, offer a hands-off approach to wealth accumulation. These strategies harness the magic of compound interest, allowing your money to grow steadily over time, even while you sleep. They are favored for their simplicity, diversification, and long-term potential.

Index Fund Infatuation

Set and Forget: Invest in low-cost index funds that track the performance of the entire stock market. It’s a hands-off approach with a proven track record.

Dollar-Cost Averaging: Regularly invest a fixed amount in index funds, regardless of market fluctuations. Over time, this strategy can yield significant returns.

Robo-Advisor Revolution: Use robo-advisors to manage your investments. These automated platforms use algorithms to optimize your portfolio for growth.

Conclusion

In conclusion, our journey through the realms of rapid wealth accumulation has been nothing short of exhilarating. As we reach the end of our financial odyssey, remember that quick wealth is attainable, but it requires careful consideration and diligence. Each of the seven ingenious methods is like a star in the night sky, waiting for you to reach out and claim it. Whether you opt for unconventional investments, entrepreneurial ventures, financial wizardry, or passive income paradigms, the key to success lies in aligning your goals, managing risks, and staying committed to your path. It’s time to take the wheel and steer your way to financial prosperity at warp speed!

FAQs

1. Are these methods guaranteed to make me rich quickly?

No, there are no guarantees in wealth accumulation. These methods are strategies that have the potential to yield substantial returns, but they also come with risks. It’s essential to do your due diligence and seek professional advice when necessary.

2. How much money do I need to get started with these methods?

The initial investment required varies depending on the method you choose. Some methods, like dropshipping or blogging, can start with minimal investment, while others, like real estate or stocks, may require more significant capital.

3. Can I combine these methods for a diversified approach?

Absolutely! Diversifying your wealth-building strategies can help manage risk and maximize returns. However, it’s essential to have a well-thought-out plan and consider your risk tolerance when combining methods.

4. What’s the most important factor in wealth accumulation?

Patience and consistency are key. Rapid wealth accumulation is possible, but it’s essential to stay committed to your chosen method and adapt as needed.

5. How can I protect my wealth once I’ve accumulated it?

Once you’ve accumulated wealth, consider estate planning, investing in insurance, and seeking professional financial advice to protect and grow your assets.

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Affiliate Disclaimer :

This article Contain may be affiliate links, which means I receive a small commission at NO ADDITIONAL cost to you if you decide to purchase something. While we receive affiliate compensation for reviews / promotions on this article, we always offer honest opinions, users experiences and real views related to the product or service itself. Our goal is to help readers make the best purchasing decisions, however, the testimonies and opinions expressed are ours only. As always you should do your own thoughts to verify any claims, results and stats before making any kind of purchase. Clicking links or purchasing products recommended in this article may generate income for this product from affiliate commissions and you should assume we are compensated for any purchases you make. We review products and services you might find interesting. If you purchase them, we might get a share of the commission from the sale from our partners. This does not drive our decision as to whether or not a product is featured or recommended.

Source : Money at Warp Speed: 7 Ingenious Methods for Quick Wealth Accumulation

Thanks for reading my article on “Money at Warp Speed: 7 Ingenious Methods for Quick Wealth Accumulation“, hope it will help!

[notebooknebula]

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[lizinthebox]

Closer | KNJ

pairing: namjoon x fem reader (established relationship)

~ after you’re gone for a long day of work, your boyfriend wants to be as close to you as possible.

genre: smut, pw(a little)p

cw: softdom!namjoon, sub!reader, they’re in love, slight praise kink, size kink if you squint, begging, fingering, blowjob, facefucking, a little teasing, multiple orgasms, sex in an unconventional place, rough sex, from the back, unprotected sex (don’t do this), not-so pull out method (don’t do this either)

wc: 1.9k

The second Namjoon’s lips are on yours you can feel the heat inside you growing. His hand resting on the bed makes its way to your hip, pulling you onto his lap. You instinctively grind up against him, feeling his already hard length beneath you. Your boyfriend has always had an affinity for making you hot right before you have somewhere to be; whether it was before you left for girls night, work, or like tonight, before you were going to take a shower.

“Joon, I have to take a shower, I’ve been out all day” you whine as you pull away from him. But your boyfriend doesn’t give up easily. When he leans back toward you, looking at you through dark eyes, you have no choice but to reconnect with his swollen lips.

“Just a few more minutes, baby,” he says between kisses. He slides his hands up and down your back as your kisses get sloppier and you feel your own wetness against you. Your boyfriend easily picks you up from off his lap, placing you on the and climbing over you, nudging your nose with his own. “You look so pretty under me.” he says through a grin. You never realize how much bigger he is than you until you’re like this.

All you can focus on is his silver chain hanging in front of your face. You can no longer control your desire for him, “please touch me, Joon,” you whine, watching a smile creep onto his face. You know how much he loves seeing you like this, needy for him and only him. You grab the back of his neck and pull him down to kiss him again. This time he’s slower, keeping your bottom lip between his teeth as he pulls away from you, lust overcoming his expression.

“Can I?” He asks you, middle finger pulling at the waistband of the uncomfortable pants you wore to work today.

“Please.” You reply, silently appreciating your boyfriend’s desire for clear consent between you both, even when he absolutely knows you want it.

With that, he pulls off your pants and runs his hands up your inner thighs, his eyes following as he does. You gasp when he slides two fingers under your lace panties, feeling how wet you are for him. “So ready for me already, huh baby?” he teases, pulling his fingers back out and circling your clit over your underwear.

“Joon, please,” you exhale, hips slightly bucking from the feeling of his fingers so close to touching you. A moan suddenly escapes you as you’re surprised with his fingers entering you slowly. “fuck, baby yes.” you choke out.

“You look so good with my fingers inside you” he replies, gradually quickening his pace as he feels your wetness growing even more. He leans down to kiss your thighs, lightly biting them which makes you whine from all the stimulation. He pulls away, slightly slowing his pace, to admire the marks he left on you. Your boyfriend isn’t the super possessive type, never grills you about who’s going to be there when you go out or constantly bothering you while you’re at work, but you know how much he loves seeing the marks he makes on you. He loves knowing that you’re his.

The heat that previously confined itself to between your legs has swept over your entire body. “Don’t stop baby, I’m close” you exhale, wishing he would regain the speed he had before. As if he could read your mind, he looked up at you and quickened his pace again. This time, he brought his body back up to hover over yours, his and your own labored breaths syncing as you get closer and closer to the edge. Right as you feel the knot in your stomach begin to come undone, Namjoon presses his lips back into yours, fingers still working you through your orgasm while his mouth captures your sounds of pleasure. Your body shudders as he pulls his fingers out of your wet cunt, letting his hand rub against your clit on purpose.

He brings his hand to his own mouth and puts the two fingers that just left your body into his mouth, tasting every last drop of you. “I love you, Y/N” he says with that smile you know all too well, flashing his dimples at you.

That sight makes butterflies instantly return to your stomach, and just like that you’re longing for him again. But, you know you still have to take a shower and be ready for work in the morning, so you pull his face toward you with both hands and kiss him before getting up off the bed, still naked from the waist down. “I love you, more.” you say as you get up to head toward the bathroom.

⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°✩⋆｡°

Upon closing the bathroom door, you feel a tinge of guilt for not returning the favor to your boyfriend, giving him the pleasure he gave you. You know Namjoon would’ve had you stay if he wanted you to, so you let the thoughts escape your mind as you get into the warm shower, the water soothing your slightly swollen cunt.

Just as you’re about to apply your favorite new vanilla scented body wash, you hear the door creak open. You turn your head and are shocked to see Namjoon taking his clothes off so casually. Is he about to come in here ? Your brain can’t even finish the thought before he’s pulling the door open, eyeing you up and down, his eyes somewhat gentle, almost as if he’s silently asking if he can join you.

“What are you doing?” you ask, not defensively, but out of genuine curiosity. Your boyfriend has never done this before in your whole 2 years of dating.

“Did you really think I was gonna let you off that easily?” he challenges.

Something about the way he says it, the cockiness in his voice, makes you absolutely crazy. You mask your feelings with an eye roll, still scooting over to make room for him in your fortunately large shower. You let your eyes wander around his body, while he drops his head and lets the water run over him. You immediately notice that he’s already hard, your mouth salivating at the sight of his erection.

You don’t even realize how long you’ve been staring until Namjoon clears his throat, causing you to look up and see him staring directly into your eyes. “On your knees, baby” he orders, and you don’t hesitate, loving the more aggressively dominant side of your boyfriend. You drop to your knees, feeling the wetness between your legs start to build. His hand finds its way to the back of your head, not pushing, just holding you in place. You lick a stripe up his shaft, feeling him tense the moment your tongue touches him.

After teasing him for a minute you finally wrap your mouth around his head, hearing him shakily exhale above you. You start taking him deeper and deeper into your throat with every bob of your head, earning breathy grunts from your normally quiet boyfriend. “Just like that, baby” he praises, and you comply pushing his cock further and further into you. Before you know it, he’s thrusting into your mouth, your eyes watering from the repeated contact of his cock and the back of your throat. You let him continue fucking into your face, despite the sting in your eyes telling you you’re about to cry. Before tears can escape your eyes, he slows down and you follow, slowly taking your mouth off of him altogether with a “pop” that echoed in the shower. You’ve always loved giving Namjoon head, and tonight was no different.

Namjoon pulls you up from your arms so you’re standing facing him. He places deep kisses onto you, starting to move down your neck as you feel the slick between your legs get even more apparent. “Fuck Joon, I need you,” you whine into his ear, tightly gripping his hair from the back of his head. His hands move to your hips while his lips remain on your neck, that is until he quickly whips you around. You gasp and grab onto the handle of the shower door, able to see his reflection behind you. He delivers a hard smack to your ass, causing you to cry out in a mix of pain and pleasure, before his fingers are circling your entrance like they were only a few minutes earlier.

“You wanna take this cock, don’t you baby?” he whispers into your ear as you feel him lining up with your hole, sending shivers down your spine.

“I want it so bad, Joon” you respond, before you feel his length enter you, stretching out your tight cunt. “Oh my god, yes” is all you can muster as he slowly bottoms out in you. His hand wraps around your wet hair, holding a firm grip in it to make sure you’re completely under his control. Your head falls back as he starts slowly moving in and out of you, the obscene sound of your wetness only masked by the falling water next to you. You can already feel him brushing up against the right spot inside you.

“You feel so good, baby” he mutters as he lets his pace pick up and moves his hands from your hair to your hips again. You can feel his cock stretching you out, the burn causing you to bite your lip from the pain and pleasure. His quick but controlled thrusts cause you to drop your head, closing your eyes and gripping the door handle hard enough to keep you in place. Wanting to be able to see you, he wraps an arm around your neck and lifts your chin. “Watch me while I fuck you,” he orders. When you open your eyes, all you’re met with is your own fucked out reflection in the glass door. “Good girl.” he praises when you make eye contact with his reflection.

The act of him ordering you around, being completely in his control, gets you closer and closer to the edge. He knows you're close when you start to clench around his cock, making him slow down and focus on going deeper and deeper into you. Not even a minute later, you can feel his slow thrusts start to get sloppier, signaling that he’s close, too. “Oh fuck, I’m so close” you cry as Namjoon’s own moans grow louder behind you. He grabs your hips tighter as you start cumming around his cock, before you’re even finished, he’s cumming inside of you “Oh shit, I’m cumming” is all he gets out before letting every drop of his cum be released inside you.

A sharp exhale leaves both of your mouths as he pulls out. You’re still breathless, chest heaving and eyes blurry from how hard he was pounding into you. Once you fully regain your vision, you turn around to face him again. He flashes a smile at you, wet hair hanging over his eyes and pulls you in for a kiss by your waist. “You know how much I love you, Y/N?” he asks, not looking for an answer, just making sure you know.

“I love you too, Joonie,” you reply before reaching behind him to grab your nearly forgotten body wash. “May I?” you ask sarcastically, lifting the bottle closer to him. He chuckles and opens the door, wrapping the towel you were gonna use around himself, but you don’t mention it.

[lovingbradshawafterdark]

Tutoring methods

Chris knight x fem!Reader

Word count: 1,224

Summary: you’re scared of failing your physics test and Chris offers to tutor you, his methods are a bit unconventional

Warnings: smut 18+ please minors DNI, unprotected sex, risky sex, vaginal fingering

A/n: don’t ask me why I wrote this help me

“I’m going to flunk”, you cried frustrated as chris just watched you, he felt bad he really did but this also gave him an idea, a sinful idea.

“I can help you, I’ll tutor you”, you looked up and blinked at him a few times, Chris knight…wants to help you, the chris knight.

This had to be a dream

“How much then?”, you asked as he just chuckled.

“I’ll tutor you for free”

“For free?”, you couldn’t believe his words, he was doing this for free, there had to be catch right?.

“I’m always looking to help someone in need”, he joked as you still blinked at him, “what subject?”

“Physics”

“Oh my then I can really help you with that”, he teased as you just rolled your eyes.

“So when are you available?”

“Tomorrow…. Right here”

“Here?”

“Yes right here in this exact spot”,you looked at him confused before he just ran off, “I’ll meet you here after class!”

***

You anxiously tapped your foot in the exact spot you told you to meet him, you expected him to be a no show. You sighed backing away before running into someone.

“I’m so sorry I-“, you looked up to find chris giving you a cheeky smile, an armful of textbooks in his arms.

“Had to find these bad boys”, he placed them down on the small chair next to him before carefully leaning against the shelves.

“So….what now?”, you asked as he just continued to smile, he picked up the textbook on top and started flipping through it, he peered back up at you, those pretty eyes hiding some kind of intent behind them.

“Well….I have some alternative methods to my teaching…”, he said closing the book and you just looked at him confused before he got closer to you, your breath hitched as his hand went towards the waistband of your pants, “of course I won’t make you but you might like my style of teaching…”, you looked at him with slight worry, you couldn’t deny chris was cute but in a place like this…it was easy to get caught.

“Fine…but nothing to extreme…we’re in a library”, you barely had time to finish your question before his lips were on yours, it was sudden and shocked you yet he kissed with such hunger it was…it was so hot….he continued to kiss you before pulling away.

“During a one-hour trip, a small boat travels 80.0 km north and then travels 60.0 km east, What is the direction of the boat's average velocity for the one-hour trip?”, he asked quickly making you look at him confused.

“W-what?”

“That’s an easy one, The hypotenuse will be 100km. So the average speed would be 100km/hour and the angle would be 36.87⁰ east of north.”, he said cheekily as you looked at him confused before he dived back onto your lips, his hands went down towards your waist, he pulled way again making you whine, you didn’t even pay attention to what he asked.

“You gonna answer or keep kissing me?”

“Ummm…42”, you said randomly he just laughed.

“Close its 32”, he said before crashing into your lips again, he was pulling your pants down slowly as you were distracted by his lips. You groaned when he pulled away again.

“Suppose two phonons are added together, what are the expected states and spins?”

“Umm-“

“Too slow”, he kissed you again this time slipping his tongue into your mouth, he went from subtle pulling your pants down to just suddenly pulling them down, you yelped before he put a hand over your mouth, “we’re in a library sweetheart”

“And you’ve got my pants down”

“And mine aren’t yet”, he smirked before already starting to pull them down very slowly, your mouth went dry as you saw the bulge through his boxers, you clamped your legs shut.

He just chuckled before closing the proximity between you both even more, he just pressed himself against you making you suck in a breath.

“Still want me to tutor you?”, he smirked as you just gulped before vigorously nodding, “gonna need that verbally”

“Yes please”, you squeaked and he was all over you, he turned you around, sliding your underwear over.

“So wet for someone whose learning physics”, he joked as he played with your folds making you squirm and whine, “now where were we…”, he inserted two fingers inside you making you nearly melt. He began to slowly finger you, his breath hot on your neck. You weren’t paying attention when he asked you another question, you would have whined loudly but remembering where you were at changed that.

“Well….you wanna answer”

“67”

“Nope try again”

“55?”

“Nuh uh”

You were getting impatient and tried to kick at him, “just let me cum please”

“Not til you get it right”

It was already a lot and you’re Brain was no longer in studying mode.

“80”

“Getting closer…”, he started to slowly curl his fingers inside you making you shut your eyes.

“Fuck! right there!”, you said before hissing as he stopped.

“Answer the question”, he whispered into your ear as you whined.

“36”, you said strained as he curled his fingers making you mewl.

“Alright…how about a pop quiz”, you didn’t have time to register as he just slid inside you, you quickly covered your mouth as you moaned loudly. He groaned as he gave you a minute to adjust to his cock.

“What angle was the answer of question one?”, he said making you gulp, you tried your best to remember.

“3-36.87°”

You nearly squealed as he harshly thrust into you.

“You never did hear the second question…what was the answer?”

“32”

He thrusted again before continuing a slow pace.

“Never got answer for that third question”

“Feelssogood”, you slurred as he just laughed again.

“Fourth question?”

“36!”, you moaned out as he fucked into you, you could hear the quiet groans leaving his mouth as you soon weren’t thinking about the test for a moment.

“Don’t think you’re thinking about physics anymore, besides me fucking in and out of you”, he said before kissing your neck as you tried your best not to cry out, “you like it when I tutor you?”, he whispered before thrusting deep inside you.

“Yes, god yes”, you said quietly, digging your nails harder into the bookshelf.

“I guess you’re about to receive your reward”, he sighed out before bottoming out and cumming inside you. You just moaned as you came at the same time, you just saw stars as he just breathed heavily.

“I guess so should tutor you for real”, he laughed as you were still coming down from your high, he slowly exited you and immediately missing him filling you up.

You saw him pulling his shorts back up, a cheeky smile back on his face, you just looked at him with flushed cheeks.

“You can borrow my textbooks, marked the important stuff with sticky notes”, he said before nearly walking off, you stopped him.

“Thank you…”, was all you said as he just gently patted your head.

“Don’t mention it, I’m always available if you need anymore tutoring”, he winked at you, as you pulled up your pants.

“If need any other subjects I’m also available, or maybe you can help tutor me if the subject so happens to be you”

[darth-razmus]

Fulgrim could not believe what the vid screen showed him. The whirlwind strike that Sentrillion ordered combined with the artillery barrage and charge into sector 5 was successful. What had caused him to drop his cognac was the vid of the strike of the missiles. As one passed over Sector 5 the screen showed Sentrillion dropping from the missile and landing in a heavy bolter nest.

“And I thought I was unconventional,” a voice came from behind the Primarch.

Fulgrim turned to face the interloper only to find the scaled armored form of his brother Alpharius. “What can I say brother, but my sons can be just as creative as yours?”

“I can’t argue with that. Thanks to that charge we were able to speed up bringing this world into compliance.” Alpharius said as he watched the vid show the exploding heavy bolters. He had to wanted to confirm what his recon team had told him, that some legionnaire dared to for a lack of better words, ride a missile into a gun embankment. “I suppose you will include that in your report to Father?”

Fulgrim coughed nearly spitting out his freshly poured goblet. “I will make mention of Sentrillion’s charge to aid in our victory but the method of his charge might be omitted. Just to ensure we don’t devolve into complete recklessness.”

“Very well brother. I shall see you on the Vengeful Spirit then.” Alpharius turned and left as his helmet let him know that the recording of Sentrillion was copied. “This legion is full of surprises,” he thought to himself.

Fulgrim watched his brother leave before turning back to the vid recording. “I swear he is going to give me a headache one of these days. It’s a good thing he is one of us through and through.”

[rigelmejo]

some comprehensible input links

language learning forums can be so toxic sometimes...

so many people love to push that “one method” is phenomenal and works when others just WON’T, meanwhile another will say the opposite. And then its like... where is the room to acknowledge maybe parts of each method have merit for different individuals, since they might help or click in different ways.

just today i saw someone arguing about stephen krashen’s language theories and how they’re all disproven bullshit that are completely unusable. I don’t know a huge amount about his theories. But I do know the emphasis he brought up on “providing students comprehensible input and lessons to learn from” is a concept that also is in stuff like the modern Teach Languages Through Storytelling lessons and Comprehensible Input Lessons. Which if you’ve ever used them? They’re Amazing. They are lessons where teachers purposefully use the target language as much as possible, and use visuals to help make what they say as comprehensible as possible to students so they can learn. This is how when I volunteered, we were supposed to tutor ESL speakers - because we could not reliably teach with english translation since their english levels varied, and we did not have speakers of every learners native language present to help teach them. Our program coordinator showed an example of how to do it by teaching us some Thai, his native language, in this method. And it was extremely easy to follow and understand. Textbooks/grammar guides/flashcards certainly will help speed up the process - aka allow students to use Graded Reader books, learner podcasts, then target language native materials like shows and novels to learn quicker. But lessons in the target language as soon as possible, emphazising getting students to comprehend, is valuable. Just as its valuable later on when students can handle more complex lessons in the target language.

Examples of teachers teaching through comprehensible input (I am thrilled to notice there’s a lot more than last time I looked these sorts of channels up):

Hit Chinese: https://youtu.be/xG3w2i1OBfc

Unconventional Chinese with Keren: https://youtu.be/9N-nNvnAYTs

French Comprehensible Input: https://youtu.be/c2SUQVjklVA

Alice Ayel (french): https://youtu.be/DcuVNAnsWZM

Dreaming Spanish (a fantastic example): https://youtu.be/ObO1CGY_NHI

Comprehensible Russian: https://youtu.be/gHCvEKxeXvk

Comprehensible Japanese: https://youtu.be/gHCvEKxeXvk

Japanese Immersion with Asami: https://youtu.be/pr_yRUVQQt0

Learn Korean in Korean*: https://youtu.be/zUulbCruiMs

I just found the Learn Korean in Korean channel a few weeks ago, notable in that he also teaches hangul before the other lessons. I think he maybe uses too few pictures to make it as easy on students. But having said that, I know zero korean whatsoever and am watching his Lesson 1 and finding it completely easy to follow. So I’d say yes his teaching style probably falls under “engage student in the target language and make it comprehensible so they can learn it.” I’m really impressed with his channel tbh because it teaches totally in Korean so any language learner from any native language could use it.

Just found Japanese Immersion with Asami today while looking up “japanese comprehensible input” and its an amazing example of how these kinds of lessons work. In a classroom setting (or with a tutor), generally the idea is to provide learners with lots of comprehensible input of the language they’re learning and perhaps some help to keep things comprehensible (in a classroom that would be word definitions on the board maybe for reference, or in these examples subtitles to aid learners for reference - although first priority a teacher is aiming to use pictures/gestures/visuals to make as much as possible comprehensible).

Examples of textbooks that teach through comprehensible input (these were made before Krashen, so i merely bring up Krashen because Today’s Language Forum Arguement was ‘all krashen’s ideas are bullshit ALL of them even comprehensible input ideas so you shouldn’t even bother using even a little of something related to his ideas):

French: https://archive.org/details/jensen-arthur-le-francais-par-la-methode-nature

Italian: https://archive.org/details/LitalianoSecondoIlMetodoNatura

Latin: lingva latina per se illustrata 

English: https://archive.org/details/english-by-the-nature-method

(I’ve personally used that textbook for french and absolutely loved its teaching style, it works Really Well for me). 

Graded readers, if they teach new vocabulary in context, may also fall into this section (depending on learner’s starting level compared to a graded reader).

my only point here is just. i hate seeing valuable learning methods completely thrown away, just because someone’s decided to equate one person’s specific method as bad - to decide every single thing related to it must be useless. In this particular case - before Krashen was old enough to have any theories, Arthur Jensen was making some of those books listed above! (Back then it was called ‘the nature method’ - although plenty of books using the term ‘the nature method’ do not teach as comprehensibly as what I’ve listed above, there’s definitely a range from ‘these are just vocab lists’ to ‘these are actually slowly teaching me new words in context’ lol). and all those youtube channels for comprehensible input? There are learners who do find them useful! I’ve found them useful!

oh man just today... sometimes people will be like “you MUST use flashcards to learn a language” and hello no you absolutely don’t have to i never did with French. Some people say “you MUST use textbooks” and yet there’s examples of people who did fine without them, vice versa people say “you must NOT use textbooks if you want to sound natural’ or whatever which? Me using grammar guides has always been immensely useful for me personally - though again some people found success with Much more textbook use, and with none. So can we please accept different methods work for different people?! And beyond that - maybe some Pieces of methods are useful to someone EVEN if the ‘whole thing’ isn’t. 

Mass Immersion Method/Refold - its not ‘all’ for me. I’m never ever going to sentence mine. I rarely use flashcards and I never plant to MAKE any myself lol. Have I still found some useful pieces of Refold that have benefited me? YES I have. (Notably the parts about ‘comprehensible input’ since we’re on the topic). What I took from what little i have heard from Krashen - in particular a lecture he gave on improving reading ability in students - is reading for pleasure, exposing yourself to a lot of material even if its not perfectly at your level, will help you improve. Students who learned word lists, and students encouraged to extensively read, both made vocabulary and reading level improvements. Which - we’ve been in elementary school and had ‘free reading time’ to help us learn to read better! By reading something we liked for a period of time! Besides just the books assigned in class the teacher had us do vocab lists for! Well, in my french studies I very much saw that apply to my own second language learning too - sometimes I looked up words as I read, and learned words that way. Sometimes I simply read french for pleasure and just guessed at unknown words I Could guess at and moved past others - and also improved my reading ability and picked up some new words. Both ways helped my french improve, my reading improve, my vocab improve. And so that is what I took from it - that there is some merit in engaging with something you can understand Somewhat at least. That if you have some comprehension of a material, you may be able to learn Some More from it whether you just learn from context OR conciously look up everything unfamiliar. (And I do think looking things up speeds up the process sometimes). My point though is like... we’re really gonna throw out some good pieces because we don’t like one person who’s managed to touch on them? When so many before and after, their own levels of correct and useless parts, have found some usefulness in some parts?

I just do not get language forum drama lol... the issue is. These people were arguing because they find krashen ‘useless’ then all comprehensible input study is ‘useless’. Ok then. But pushing to all learners to use only a textbook, and avoid engaging with actual language (even when it may be comprehensible and therefore useful to them like the links above, for some learners), then they may slow their progress if it doesn’t suit them well. And it always depends on the individual, everyone’s a bit different. 

[pluviophile-bookworm]

AWAE 2x9 rewatch: thoughts and reactions

This review is dedicated to Dalila Bela, who turns 19 today. Happy birthday!

After a long wait, there she is at last - Muriel Stacy, decorating her new home with potato stamps. What a lovely way to show she is a kindred spirit. She’s basically like an older Anne. 

Marilla and Anne utter the same words upon passing Miss Stacy, who is cycling in the opposite direction at top speed - ‘My heavens!’ - except their intonations are so different. Marilla is shocked at the sight of the unconventional-looking stranger, while Anne is in awe of her, and especially the fact that she’s wearing trousers. I don’t think the women of Avonlea, be they progressive mothers or not, won’t be so fascinated with her, though.

And again, Miss Stacy acts exactly like an older Anne, going on and on about potatoes and tardiness and motorbikes before she’s even caught a breath. I can’t wait for Anne to finally meet her. And that concludes the cold open. 

I don’t care what Prissy and Josie, or their mothers, say about Miss Stacy- I’m with Anne on this one. They shouldn’t judge their new teacher before they’ve met her up close. She’ll warm her way into their hearts, I’m sure. I actually know it for a fact.

I simply cannot believe Billy brought a gun to school and is openly proclaiming he’s about to kill an animal, a living being, with it. And it’s not just any animal - it’s the fox, Anne’s fox. What has it done to him that he’s so personally violent towards it?

Again, Gilbert alone is the voice of reason (unlike season 3 Gilbert, who is the most confused individual I’ve ever seen and has the eyebrows to prove it). ‘There’s no fox here, so how about you put the gun away?’ It’s as if he speaks for me. 

Who does Billy think he is, calling his teacher ‘little lady’? He’s lucky she’s not Phillips, otherwise he wouldn’t get away with such disrespectful behaviour. 

Once again Anne uses the exact same words as someone else, but with a different intonation. Prim and proper Tillie’s ‘Oh my goodness!’ is one of disapproval (which she’s not to blame for, that’s probably just what her parents have taught her), while Anne’s is an expression of pure admiration and fascination. [Side note: Let’s put things into perspective, though - what would you think if your new teacher showed up to school with no bra on, on her first day at that? I don’t really know what to think of corsets anymore, so I’m not sure how to take this. You tell me.]

What, now Matthew and Jerry, two of my favourite AWAE men, want to catch the fox too? I understand it’s stealing people’s chickens, but hey, a fox must eat too, and it’s not like it can get its food in another way.

What’s happening to Bash? Is farm life not his speed? I’m worried about him, I hope he’s alright. 

For this next scene, the introductions, I’ll insert a note from when I first watched this episode. I notice I’ve been doing that a lot lately, but well, it seems I’ve got quite a lot of first impression notes on this season written down, so why not make them public now, here where it’s appropriate? Here goes:

And, just as I was fascinated, things got dramatically bad. Anne wouldn’t stop saying quite private things about everyone who spoke, and Miss Stacy reprimanded her for spreading gossip, resulting in her being unable to come up with words to describe herself (the method used for introductions was everyone would use words starting with their initials to describe themselves. I really wanted to know what Anne would have said about herself, as nobody else seemed to struggle much with the exercise (although I myself always do when asked to do it).

Alright, now I’d like to add something to this. When Ruby describes herself as ‘romantic’ and looked for a G word for ‘Gillis’, I could swear she thought of a certain young man right to her left - heck, she even looked at him before quickly blurting out ‘girl’. Well, yeah, she is a girl. But she’s also defining herself through Gilbert too much. I hope she knows how much potential she has beyond him. Besides, he only has eyes for Anne. I wish we’d got another season so we could see how far Ruby and Moody go. I liked them, but we saw too little of them together. #renewannewithane

Ok, but... it was like Miss Stacy just finished Anne’s sentence. ‘Ruby has a crush on...’ ‘Gilbert Blythe?’ Well, yes, but that’s not what we’re talking about. See, I’m noticing details I did not deem significant enough to note down the first time around. This is what rewatches are for. 

Rachel Lynde needs Marilla’s help. That’s a first. Oh, well, it’s rumours, what else. She’s against Miss Stacy. I really don’t like her right now. 

No, seriously, what is happening to Bash?

Of course, what the mothers of Avonlea fail to see is that, female or not, trousers or nor, corset or not, Miss Stacy is much more capable of teaching the young minds of Avonlea school than her predecessor. Or at least she’s much more willing to educate them properly. Of course she’ll tutor Gilbert. And Anne will soon find her way into her good graces. I hope. Nay, I know it. 

‘Appalling, stupid, clueless...’ this is what I hoped wouldn’t happen, but it happened anyway. Now Anne is beating herself up for the scrape she got into by complete accident. Gosh, I hope someone can fix this.

From my old notes:  And again, Cole knows how to fix things, and he does so, brilliantly I would say. Also, with the way he goes out into the nature, raises his hands and shouts out “Come to me, Muse!”, I can totally see him being a pagan... and who’s to say he’s not? I mean, Anne has the makings of one too, remember the Beltane ritual in season 3?

Rachel’s only job seems to be to stick her nose in other people’s business. She has no right to go around asking about Muriel’s marital status and whether she wants to be an old maid. But as anyone who’s watched the full series knows, this will be carried over into season 3.

Seriously, Rachel right now reminds me of Anne earlier with all the gossip, and I see now why she (Anne) made such a bad impression on Miss Stacy. Unfortunately, she (Miss Stacy) cannot assign Rachel Lynde an essay.

Anne’s mind is all taken over by the fox... so much that she’s fallen asleep over her papers... and now, disaster after disaster lead to a small fire, which grows into a bigger fire. If Anne’s essay burns in it, I’ll literally cry. I know a thing or two about lost work. Why, half of this very post I had to write a second time after my computer decided to restart the page with the unsaved draft open. But hey, this is not about me. 

So I guess they’ve figuratively and literally forced Miss Stacy into a corset. That’s sad. But I see she’s not giving up on her unique identity.

Oh, great, now the found brothers are fighting. I guess it turns out Bash’s problem is he’s inexperienced in farming and he needs help, but Gilbert is pursuing his own future now and doesn’t seem to care all that much. I feel bad for Bash. But we know Gilbert will stay at least another year and Bash will figure farming out by the time he has to leave. 

Ah, I see Anne is feigning sickness so as not to go back to Miss Stacy after yesterday’s fiasco. Well, I’d do the same if I were her, but I’m not quite sure that’s the best solution to the problem at hand. Marilla’s suggestion seems much better to me. Going together so Anne has someone to vouch for her... reasonable and concerned like a true mother.

I see Bash is trying to figure out horse-riding on his own. It looks tough. But he can manage it. 

It’s a shame Jerry won’t help Anne with the trap... but well, he was promised good money, and his large family is so poor... the ends sort of justify the means here. Still, Matthew is not in the right to plan on skinning the fox for money. 

Gosh, things are heating up between Shirbert. Anne seems to be all the more determined to find and develop her vocation now that Gilbert is working on his. And he doesn’t seem to care much about her feelings right now, being so busy studying and all. But I wonder how this whole thing really makes him feel. 

Hey, there are the potato light bulbs! The first science lessons Miss Stacy teaches the class. And they never forget it. How inspiring!

Hey, I just realised something. In her ramble in the cold open, Miss Stacy mentioned that you can use potatoes for a lot of purposes... well, here’s the second one she demonstrates in this episode. Stamps and... lighting a bulb.

Marilla, who took up Miss Stacy’s offer to stay and observe, seems to be a new supporter of the young teacher. See? If people only gave her a chance and saw what she does and how she does it, she might soon be a hit in town. But no, some choose to condemn her instead, as if she’s ever done them wrong. Just like the fox. Except the fox stole some chickens. Miss Stacy is perfectly innocent. 

And... poor clumsy Moody had to ruin everything just as Rachel and the ProgressiveTM mothers came in. Too bad. But hey, it’s him who recalled this very first lesson later on when they were graduating, isn’t it? 

Hey, Bash has gone to see Mary. Things are getting serious. I guess.

Alas, the mothers are not too pleased with how the lesson turned out. Luckily, Marilla was there to see the whole thing from beginning to end and can support Miss Stacy in front of the rest of the women. And it seems Gilbert and Anne are ready to step in and defend her as well. On their second day with her. That speaks volumes. 

Oh, so he’s visiting Mary to talk about Gilbert. But he also talks about himself and his idea to go deep into farming. His story is truly an inspiring one. And also, he’s staying with Mary for supper. As I said, things are getting serious. 

Anne decided to show Miss Stacy the story clubhouse... nice. But she’s made another blunder in doing so. She’s forgotten Cole is hiding there from his parents. And now they’ll force him into farming again... as my younger self said when I saw this for the first time, ‘this episode is one of the most devastatingly dramatic ones of this series �� ever. What a way to lead up to the season finale’. I think that says it all. 

Ah, yes, nobody told Gilbert that Bash wouldn’t be home for supper this evening. Too bad... now he’ll think Bash has run away on him. Meanwhile, Bash is having a good time with Mary. But there’s no way for Gilbert to know that. How unfortunate. 

One shot, one gunshot and... wait, it seems the fox has not been killed yet. But the poor clubhouse... Billy is the worst person in this series, hands down. I can’t even. I’m crying. Real tears. Right now.

See, Anne’s blunder was not telling Miss Stacy about Cole. After all, she swore her to secrecy. But it was a blunder nonetheless because Miss Stacy takes her duty as a teacher more seriously than her promise to Anne. If only she’d known the full story... Cole might have been saved. 

Miss Stacy riding with Harmon Andrews... I wonder what Rachel, aka the Avonlea yellow pages, will make of that. 

‘Sometimes you just have to use your imagination.’ This is powerful because it comes from Marilla. Also, perhaps this is the hidden sense of humour that L.M.Montgomery talked about in the book, which I’m currently rereading. 

I can’t, I just can’t. Now Cole feels betrayed by Anne, and Anne is devastated about the clubhouse.... and the women of Avonlea are against Miss Stacy, and Matthew disappointed Anne... can nobody be happy in this episode? It’s truly tragical and devastating. I should not have opted for rewatching it right before going to bed, on a school night at that. How will I sleep now?

Gosh, Cole really has had it now. I’m not saying Billy Andrews did not deserve it (he did and he does), but violence is never the answer. Still, I guess it’s justified now. Too bad it will probably lead to even more trouble for Cole. See, even he’s scared of what he’s done. He surely didn’t mean for it to go that far. And to the creators - this is no way to end an episode.

Let’s sum up: we meet Miss Stacy; intonation matters; the fox is in danger; Billy the bully has a weapon now - how bad can things get?; Bash struggles with farming; Anne accidentally makes a bad impression on a kindred spirit; appalling, stupid, clueless; ‘Come to me, Muse!’; Rachel Lynde sticks her nose into things that are not her business - what else is new; potato light bulbs; Bash visits Mary; the clubhouse is destroyed; Anne accidentally betrays Cole, leading to dramatic consequences; a disastrous ending to a devastating episode.

[feral-bard]

Honey Trapped (aziraphale/crowley crack!fic, 1.6k words)

Summary:

What happens when @racketghost​ makes a film reference that goes completely over my head, and I’m left pondering the question of how Crowley might come to believe himself a bee. 

Notes:

Unbeated. All mistakes are my own. 

(Link to ao3)

Slight warnings for some platonic, non-consensual cuddling from someone not currently in their right mind.

------------------

4 months after the narrowly averted armageddon.

2 weeks and 6 days after Aziraphale and Crowley moved into a charming cottage in The South Downs.

2 weeks, 5 days and 10 hours after a comical series of misunderstandings  left them both under the impression the other was only comfortable with platonic cohabitation.

Shortly before Elevenses.

------------------

Aziraphale was a creature of habit.

Every Sunday he made his way into town to pick up pastries to go with his morning tea. This particular morning was no exception. Shortly after breakfast he had left Crowley to his gardening and set off to visit the local bakery.

All in all, he’d been gone less than an hour.

Certainly, he thought to himself, not enough time to excuse (or explain) Crowley standing in their front yard - wings out for all the world to see - rubbing his face into a sunflower.

“Crowley?”

Aziraphale called out to him more out of habit than out of an expectation he would reply. Although unlikely, he supposed it might be possible Crowley was trying out some new unconventional method of gardening. 

That particular hope evaporated when the demon looked up and stared at him with an entranced expression on his face, sclera blown wide and orange pollen clinging to his skin.

“Are you- ah” Aziraphale took a few cautious steps forward, a little unnerved by the vacant stare, “Are you feeling well, dear?”.

Crowley tilted his head to the side, but otherwise only stared unblinkingly back at him.

As Aziraphale drew nearer, he noticed Crowley’s nose start twitching. The demon had flicked his tongue out and was alternating between sniffing and tasting the air. In a flurry of movement he spread his wings and beat them with such unnatural speed they emitted a low pitched buzzing sound. Before Aziraphale could react, Crowley flew straight at him. In a matter of seconds he had wrapped his arms around the angel’s shoulders and pulled him in close, effectively pinning Aziraphale’s arms to his sides as he pressed their bodies together. (Blessedly, Aziraphale managed to hang on to the pastries - but it was a close thing). The more the angel attempted to extract himself, the more Crowley tightened his grip. In fact, as if encouraged by the movement, he nuzzled Aziraphale’s neck and started lapping with his tongue all over Aziraphale’s face.  When Aziraphale flinched, Crowley took advantage of the angel’s shocked gasp to start licking directly into his mouth.

This act proved a bridge too far for Aziraphale. He recoiled, wrinkling his nose at the sickly sweet taste of pollen, and exerted a small amount of angelic strength to push Crowley away.

Unperturbed, the demon flew back across the yard, ostensibly in search of a new flower to harvest.

Well, thought Aziraphale. That was a thing. 

He watched as Crowley selected a new flower, favouring one large enough that he could start tonguing it enthusiastically.

"Hullo Mr. Fell." A familiar voice called out. Looking past Crowley, Aziraphale noticed a bemused adversary waving to him from the swing on their front porch, his diminutive hell hound on his lap.

"Adam!" Aziraphale greeted, faking a composure he didn’t feel as he miracled the pollen from his face and his disheveled clothing to its previous state.  "I don’t suppose you happen to know what's gotten into Crowley?"

Adam grinned.

“He bet me I couldn’t hypnotize him.”

Aziraphale resolved never to leave Crowley without supervision again.

“So now he believes himself to be a... bee?” Aziraphale guessed (taking into consideration of the demon’s recent affinity for flowers and buzzing).

“Yep.”

When no further information appeared forthcoming Aziraphale voiced the obvious question:

“Why?”

“Bees are great. Pepper’s mums keep a hive and- ��� 

Recognizing a tangent when he heard one, Aziraphale nipped it in the bud.

“Sorry, dear boy, I meant why were you discussing hypnotism?”

“Brian’s Dad is trying to quit smoking and the doctor suggested hypnotherapy,” Adam said quickly, in a way that suggested this was not his first time telling this particular story, “but his Dad fell asleep during the session so Brian asked if I’d give it a shot. Pepper and Wensleydale thought I should see if Mr. Crowley could teach me how.” 

Aziraphale blinked.

“Adam,” he began, “Surely you realize it would be wrong to coerce someone?”

‘‘Yeah, but Brian’s dad wanted to try it.” he insisted, “We told him my godfather was a magician and he was going to teach me how.”

“You told him Crowley was a magician?” 

“He looks the part. ‘Just needs a spot of eyeliner, that one’ Mum said - ”

(Aziraphale possessed enough self-awareness that he recognized how ridiculous it was to be offended by that. He also recognized now was not the ideal time to engage in a conversation about how a spot of eyeliner did not a magician make.) 

“- so I popped over here to chat to Mr. Crowley and he said I probably wouldn’t be able to do it because it’s more of a snake demon trick than an occult trick.”

“I see.”

“That’s when I bet him that I could.” 

“Right.”

Crowley chose that moment to repeat his trek back over to Aziraphale who, now wise to what he was after, was able to narrowly avoid being pounced on before shooing him back off towards the flowers. Adam did a very poor job of hiding his amusement, but wisely kept his mouth shut as Aziraphale turned back to him.

“Do you have any idea why he seems quite so insistent on licking me?" 

Adam snorted and concealed it poorly with a cough.

"Well, Pep’s ma said the worker bees swarm around their queen? They sniff her out so they can feed and protect her.”

"Oh." 

Adam grinned but otherwise ignored him.

"He’s always around you, so seems reasonable he’d think you were important?"

A little distance away, Crowley hummed in displeasure as the flower he was nuzzling collapsed. Aziraphale performed a quick miracle to enlarge one of the nearby violets to keep him occupied.

"Is there any particular reason you haven’t restored him yet?" 

“Nah, just waiting for you to get back."

"Me?"

"Crowley suggested that I should wait for you if anything happened. I think he was worried about stinging me or something." Adam rolled his eyes. He stood up and walked down the steps, Dog at his heels. "You want me to do it now then?"

"Yes please."

"Sure."

Adam waved a hand and suddenly Crowley was coughing and spluttering, wiping his tongue clean on the inside of his shirt.

"What in the ever loving fuck?"

"Back with us, dear?" Azirpaphale asked sweetly.

"Angel what the sodding hell is going on? Everything smells like flowers-" he felt along his face, "- I'm sticky. Why am I sticky?"

Adam glanced sidelong at Aziraphale.

"Adam, what are you doing here?"

"Just visiting, thanks for the help Mr. Crowley!"

"Help with-?" Crowley’s face fell. “-don’t tell me you got it on your first try,” he growled.

Aziraphale feigned a sudden interest in his hands.

"Thanks for the chat Mr. Fell."

"Anytime dear, you're always welcome. Did you want a croissant before you go?"

Adam grabbed one from the proffered bag. He made a “cheers” gesture before biting into it and promptly vanishing (along with Dog).

"Angel?"

When Aziraphale turned Crowley was standing only a few paces away from him, looking stricken but considerably less orange.

"Yes dear?"

"Please tell me I didn't stick my tongue down your throat."

"Well, that's a little hyperbolic-" he began consolingly, "- I mean, even with your tongue the length it is, you could barely reach my tonsils."

When he finally looked up Crowley was starting at him in horror.

Stung, and not caring to conceal it, Aziraphale turned for the cottage. "Well, no harm done then. Let’s get you a cup of tea."

"I’m sorry angel, I’d have never done that if I was-”

"Never?" Aziraphale asked, somewhat sharper than intended.

Crowley blinked.

"Not on purpose!"

"That inspires confidence."

"Aziraphale." 

"No? Would you prefer coffee? The croissants are fresh, maybe some human food would do you good after all the pollen you’ve ingested-"

"Aziraphale." When he turned, Crowley was regarding him with a bemused look.

“Yes?’

"Was it any good?"

Aziraphale didn’t quite manage to avoid cringing. 

"It was rather like being licked in the mouth by an enthusiastic puppy,” he quipped. “Not much finesse I'm afraid.”

Crowley shook his head. He rubbed a hand over his face, and pulled slightly on his earlobe while not quite making eye-contact.

"Well apologies if my technique was subpar, there was the slight impediment of believing I was a bee." Crowley responded waspishly.

"Of course, dear." he gestured back towards the cottage, “Shall we?” 

"Seems like it's only fair I should get the opportunity to defend my honor." he offered a little too casually. 

Aziraphale raised his eyebrows.

"Consider it a professional courtesy. I'm the original tempter and you've impugned my abilities."

"Indeed," Aziraphale played along, pursing his lips to keep back a smile "In the face of such unassailable logic who am I to disagree?"

"Right." Crowley said. He walked up to Aziraphale, nodded, and tilted his head. "Right," he repeated.  Moving swiftly, he snaked an arm around Aziraphale's shoulder and brought his hand up to cradle the angel's cheek as he leaned in.  The kiss was forceful but chaste.  When Crowley made to pull back Aziraphale darted forward and gently nipped his bottom lip. That, plus a completely unsubtle pout, soon had the demon kissing him back in earnest.

By the time they parted Crowley looked exceedingly pleased with himself.

"Well?"

"Overall?” Aziraphale smirked, “A considerable improvement."

"Excuse me."

"It’s only fair I deduct some points for the overwhelming taste of pollen."

"Angel?" 

"Yes dear?"

"Buzz off."

[aquilaofarkham]

title: varulven rating: teen and up word count: 5,717 summary: After being bitten by a werewolf, Trevor, knowing he doesn’t have much of a choice, accepts his fate following a painful transformation during the full moon. He quickly gets used to his new body with the support of Sypha and Alucard, who uses his own wolf form to better connect with Trevor. Part two of this piece.

read on ao3 at aquilaofarkham

--

The forest overwhelms him; too many new sounds, new scents, and new sensations all happening at once. The newly born lycan can hear everything from the smallest mouse digging into the frozen dirt, readying itself for hibernation, to the subtle crack of an owl’s talons clawing into tree bark as it moves from branch to branch. It watches and waits, ever so patient for that very same mouse. 

This assault on his senses continues. All things previously closed off when he was human have suddenly been opened. Through his eyes, the world is closer, more intimate. No moment to breathe. His thoughts are bursting with excitement and uncertainty, confusion and fervor.

He lifts his head and sees a white wolf upon a nearby hill. Sitting on his hind legs, head raised high and tall, staring back at the lycan. The skies are dark, save for the full moon, but thank god it’s not snowing else they’d never find each other. He knows the wolf will stay there all night if he has to, but the lycan won’t keep him waiting for much longer. This is a comforting sight; one that compels him to move forward. To join his friend, now that the two of them share more similarities than ever before (unconventional as they are).

Contrary to what most people believe, vampires and lycans get along very well.

Trevor doesn’t know if he will make peace with this form. It’s too soon to tell. But joining Alucard on a run through the snow-covered woods seems to be a decent start. White fur and dark grey fur move quickly against a sea of pin straight black trees. Their swift paws kick up snow as one tries running just an inch faster and further than the other—whether either of them realizes it or not.

When Trevor arrived home a month ago with claw marks gracing his shoulder, Alucard and Sypha did their best. All of them did their best. The two consulted books, legends, and remedies while their hunter prepared himself for the worst. Trevor will forever be grateful to them, despite their failure to stop the lycan’s curse. After the pain of transformation ended, he suddenly felt nothing. He could see nothing, only blood red and an emptiness surrounding him. It was dark inside the wolf. A realization that his body was no longer his own. He had lost control over it.

The first thing Trevor heard was his name. Faint and very weak, not strong enough to pull him out of the darkness. Whatever force held dominion over his body, its immediate instinct was to bare its fangs and violently lash out.

“Trevor, it’s us. You remember, I know you do.” The second thing Trevor heard. Clear and recognizable, even in his state. Sypha’s firm, unwavering, yet calm voice, a voice he always hoped to hear again, was able to cut through the prison that trapped his human thoughts and sight. Another problem solved, another victory she could hang off her belt. Sypha needed one of those, yet she also knew it wasn’t time to celebrate. No premature smiles or breaths of relief.

Trevor vaguely remembers what happened next; low to the ground, he crawled towards the two human creatures in front of him. Uncertain of how much personal control he had regained. Nor was he sure of how easily it could slip away again. Then same another familiar voice, like a candle in a dark corridor leading him to someplace brighter. Trevor Belmont is always in want—or rather, in need of brighter things.

“Trevor...” Alucard was never one to reveal his true emotions especially in the way he spoke. Neutral, steady, and blunt. Most often rude if he were in a foul mood, yet he raised his voice sparingly. But if Alucard was attempting to hide a certain emotion in that single word, he failed. All Trevor could hear was a desperate plea for hope.

He put their fears to rest when the front of his head gently pressed into Alucard’s outstretched palm. Trevor didn’t move beyond that; too ashamed, too scared of this new form that dwarfed his friends. Alucard cautiously slid his hand up between the lycan’s eyes before scratching his ears. Something Trevor did to those old grey Belmont wolfhounds of his long gone home. A shockingly pleasant sensation, making him feel akin to one of said large, gentle beasts he misses so dearly. Large is obvious, but gentle? Trevor wants to try his best.

It was a good decision to leave the cellar with the now broken door. Trevor would have otherwise cowered in a corner come sunrise. Out here, deep in the snow and cold air, adrenaline rushes through his veins just as easily as blood. Mixed with his habitual tendency to compete against the dhampir, it’s enough to propel him forward, matching Alucard’s speed.

This forest is his. Theirs.

--

One should never underestimate Sypha Belnades. She’s sent demons back to hell in flames of her own creation. She stood against the vampires’ mad lord and burned him to ashes which flew off into the night sky, their final resting place unknown. She played reluctant peacemaker between two men, more like children despite their own abilities. A minimal accomplishment compared to others, but an accomplishment, nonetheless. All those moments when she held her bright fingertips close against their temples saying, “Grow up or I will light both of your skulls on fire”.

Keeping track of two wolf-like creatures seems easy compared to everything else. Stay close, stay watchful, and never stray too far from the fresh set of paw prints in the snow. A real-life Ariadne with her precious red thread. Sypha adored listening to those stories from her childhood, begging to hear one more before bedtime. It didn’t matter if they were real or not, though she always believed they were.

Belief is a powerful force; just as if not more powerful than her spells. She still believes in many things that cross bearing men reject; things good and bad. Of magic, vampires, and the myths that give life to both. Sypha loves her myths—even the unsettling ones. The ones that unearth truths that no one wants to hear. She once hoped some of them would help spare Trevor from his eventual fate.

She sat on the floor of their library, surrounded by piles of books like stone walls. A momen in time that feels long ago but in reality, happened only a few short days prior to the full moon. The words in front of her blurred together as she rubbed her aching eyes, yet she kept reading.

Sypha studied the lycan’s many origins: they came from a scorned lover of Gilgamesh, having been turned into a wolf against their will. No, they were punished by the god Jupiter for eating the remains of a sacrificed boy. Actually, they were merely by-products of the oldest vampires. On and on an on. She read of the symptoms: nightmares, vomiting, lack of an appetite. Increase in agitation. She wanted to scream, “I know that already” into the pages of those particular books. What she needed from these myths were cures.

While it made her hands twitch and her heart pound with anxiety, Sypha did what she promised Trevor: she kept searching. She kept reading.

So engrossed in her reading, Sypha barely noticed Alucard as he sat down beside her. A silence grew between them every time her fingers flipped over another page. He watched her eyes move from line to line, scaling down. A warm light filled the library; it would be dark soon and he wasn’t about to let her go through yet another sleepless night. Sypha’s sharp mind needed rest, but then again, they all did.

“You have that look again.” Despite how softly he spoke, Alucard noticed her jump. Sypha glanced at him briefly, then returned to her book, burying her nose in even deeper.

“What look?”

“The one that says focused yet angry. Calm, but disturb me and I will separate your head from your neck.”

She hid her amusement at Alucard’s dark brand of humour. “I am not angry.”

“Are you certain?”

“... perhaps a little. More frustrated. These books have nothing that can help us. There are apparently plenty of ways to tame a lycan after they transform.”

“But no methods of curing them.”

Sypha closed the book; Alucard took that as a yes. “What about you? I’ve seen you held up in that laboratory. Sometimes for hours on end.”

When they started rebuilding the Belmont manor with its library, bedrooms, armoury, and kitchen, they added a new room. A mirror image of the laboratory and clinic Alucard remembered so fondly. Full of medicines, glass tubes, and other devices neither Trevor nor Sypha fully understood but were willing to learn. He used it more often than them, carrying on important, irreplaceable work.

A local rumour began spreading amongst the neighbouring villages. Talk of a stranger dressed in black going from door to door, giving remedies to the sick while refusing payment. They never did manage to catch this good Samaritan.

Sypha once saw Alucard with his hair different. Still loose but tied with a simple hairband and hanging over his breast. When she mentioned it, innocently enough, Alucard went quiet. She hasn’t seen him like that since.

“Did... did your mother’s notes say anything?”

“Unfortunately, she didn’t have very many patients afflicted with the lycan’s curse.” Usually Sypha could recognize the sarcasm in Alucard’s tone; this time proved more difficult. “But I had more success reading the notes she and my father wrote together. I’ve started concocting a tonic using distilled wolfsbane.”

“And...”

Alucard didn’t want to give Sypha false hope. “It still needs work. With its current state, it will most likely kill him.”

“Maybe...” Sypha stopped herself. Never in her life did she want to admit defeat. Always too stubborn, too proud, tasting bile in her mouth if she even thought about it. Yet she told Trevor and Alucard to grow up. Perhaps it was time she did as well, especially if the life of someone she loved was at stake.

“Maybe it would be best if we let Trevor transform. We can use your tonic to ease the pain when he changes and then try taming him afterwards. These books annoy me beyond anything else, but I found a manuscript about northern lycan myths.” Shoving aside everything else, she grabbed a flimsy set of brown papers held together by thread and sheer perseverance. “It stood out the most. I think it may assist us.”

Alucard stared at the so-called “book” in Sypha’s hand. Its ink scrawls were barely legible to his eyes. “We would have to tie him down. Or lock him somewhere secure.”

“We have that cellar. I know you don’t like this plan.”

“I don’t think either of us does.” Sypha nodded in agreement. “I will tell him.”

“You do not have to.”

“No, it’s fine. I want to help him.”

“He won’t like what you have to say. He’s barely gotten any rest.”

“No one living in this house has.” He placed his hand on her back. “Don’t worry, Sypha. I will talk to him.”

“Gently. Remember to be gentle with him.”

“I shall.”

“Before you do that, we need to finish that tonic. I will help.”

“That won’t be necessary. You should—”

Sypha pushed the manuscript against his chest. “I said I’m helping. And you should read this.”

Alucard smiled. “There’s not much I can say that would convince you otherwise, is there?”

“Nothing at all.”

Deep in her memories, Sypha nearly trips over herself. Alucard was right; she hated that plan. It worked, but she hated it for making her think the worst. For making her feel as though she had willingly doomed Trevor to his fate. That she had been defeated.

Her feet begin to ache. She keeps reminding herself of one thing: this is not defeat. Only another obstacle to overcome. A door opening to a new way of life. Sypha is used to walking through those. She scales up another hill, her two boys off in the distance, still in sight.

She should have worn better shoes.

--

Wolves cannot run forever. Even those of supernatural origins must stop, which is what Trevor and Alucard do. But one still has mountains of energy to burn. His head is a flurry of different thoughts. Some take root while most leave just as fast as they entered. No matter where they came from or what they entail, they all succeed in contradicting each other.

One thought manages to rise above the rest: what else can this new body really do?

Alucard takes his rest not far from Trevor, who seems to be in his own little world. Not content enough to run around in circles, he takes to rolling about in the snow, attacking it the same way a pup would pounce at everything in sight, animate or not. A pup... yes, that’s what Alucard is reminded of. He watches in amusement as Trevor trips over his legs, too long and cumbersome for his liking. No normal wolf would be able to handle such abnormal bodily proportions of a lycan’s.

It takes some trial and error—more error than trial. Only when Trevor actually stops to think does he regain some control over his limbs. No more flopping around; now he can revert straight back to his playful demeanour, this time on much steadier footing.

—Quite the beacon of terror, the dhampir thinks. Villagers must be quaking with fear underneath their bedcovers tonight.

Alucard lowers himself against the ground. Let Trevor have his fun. Lord knows he deserves it after a month of hell. This might even count as a valuable lesson. There’ll be plenty more to come.

Trevor rolls off his back and makes brief contact with golden eyes against white fur. Gold like amber or the cinders of a well-used fireplace. He looks at Alucard and wonders if the dhampir’s transformation is ever as painful as his own. No, Trevor realizes the longer he stares. Not painful or ugly at all. A few gentle, graceful wisps of smoke and the deed is done. Seems everything Alucard does is gentle and graceful, no matter what form he takes.

A mischievous thought worms its way into Trevor’s head. Alucard maintains his statuesque posture; beautiful, regal, and boring. At first, he ignores the other wolf, occasionally glancing in his direction out of curiosity and confusion. Packs of snow get thrown into the air with every wag of Trevor’s shaggy tail. Alucard’s head tilts slightly, his ears pinned back.

—What are you planning? Why are you staring at me like that?

What can barely be described as a tense standoff ends when Trevor shoves Alucard. Despite being larger and arguably stronger as a lycan, this action does nothing to faze his companion. Trevor repeats the gesture; still not enough to crack his hard exterior—but not enough to deter his scheming counterpart. Trevor charges headfirst into Alucard, more a ram than a wolf.

Alucard, if he so wanted, could overpower the lycan. Push him off or knock him flat on his own back. Yet he stays in a somewhat defeated pose with his limbs bent and dangling. Trevor continues his attempt at what Alucard can only assume is... bonding? He nuzzles his snout into the white wolf’s fur while his oversized front paws push against his exposed belly. Another jovial act between his family’s cherished wolfhounds.

Trevor also recalls riding on their backs as they took him up and down the halls of the Belmont manor then outside through the gardens when he was still small enough. Sypha might be able to ride on his back, maybe even Alucard as well. Wouldn’t that be a sight to behold.

Trevor becomes lost in this new, break-neck pace of thinking, one thought after another and then another. He doesn’t notice that the playful bites he’s been giving his friend have unknowingly turned aggressive. Alucard retaliates by baring his fangs and letting out a deep, guttural snarl.

—Not so rough.

Trevor instinctively backs away. As an apology, he lowers his head and tries making his body seem much smaller than it really is. The same action he attempted in the cellar following his change. Lycans simply take up too much space. Too large, too obstructive, and too rough, even towards similar creatures. He huffs out a frustrated breath into the frigid air.

Alucard ceases his growling when he sees this abrupt shift. He didn’t mean for his reaction to be so harsh. He’s supposed to be helping after all. Days before the full moon when Trevor quietly wept out of fear—fear of himself—Alucard showed his own vulnerable side. He let Trevor rest his head upon his chest, wiping away the tears and offering small words of comfort until he drifted off into a desperately needed sleep. How could either of them forget that evening?

His father taught him that even those most experienced in transfiguration often have difficulty controlling their emotions. Too dulled down or too impassioned, exploding at any spontaneous moment. It would explain Trevor’s excitable behavior.

Softly, he treads over to the curled-up mass of thick fur. Trevor pouts as though he were still human. He really is just a newborn lycan on his first night out; an overgrown pup. His playfulness should be seen as a blessing in disguise. Alucard gives his snout a couple gentle pats, apologizing himself. To which Trevor merely grumbles.

—Stick in the ass you are.

Alucard has no way of telling if that’s what he’s really thinking, but he can come to his own conclusions. He knows the Belmont well enough. He responds with a frisky bite to his ear, eliciting a surprised yelp from Trevor. Rows upon rows of fangs snap at Alucard, who always dodges them at the very last second, before getting pinned down.

They continue like this, chasing and wrestling each other, causing their own little intimate chaos. Even their growls sound happier. It took some time, but they’re finally playing the same game. All is well again—or as well as things could be.

It comes to an end when a sound off in the distance catches Trevor’s attention. He raises his head; ears perked up, and listens. It’s not Sypha, no doubt making her way across the rolling landscape, closing in on her two boys. It’s no human at all. Something else, perhaps an animal or more, scurries through the frozen underbrush. A certain primal urge suddenly rises within Trevor, one that all beasts share: the need to chase and hunt. He stands up, nose pointed in the direction of the noise, ignoring the white wolf’s yips. Before he can run off, Alucard bites down and pulls him back.

—For once in your life, wait. 

Trevor does pause. but not without growling at him for leaving teeth marks on his tail. He begrudgingly lets Alucard take the lead. They begin their hunt.

--

Somewhere, a clock hand strikes past midnight. Trevor and Alucard huddle together, their eyes fixated on a small flock of wild pheasants. Not quite the prize they were hoping for, but decent practice. Like before, Trevor allows the white wolf to go first, all while trying to tell himself that as a human, he’s still the better hunter.

However, he must admit, it is mesmerizing to watch Alucard hunt as a wolf as it is watching him fight as a dhampir. Every step is deliberate and creates no sound as eyes never leave their prey, inching closer. A calculated, flawless leap forward, the panicked scattering of pheasants except for one thrashing around for freedom under his paw, and then finally, the wolf twists the bird’s neck in his jaws. He makes it all seem so easy.

Alucard carries the lifeless, slumped prize over to Trevor. So quick and barely even a drop of blood. He finds the rest of the flock a few feet away. They continue pecking at whatever berries and frozen grub they can scrounge for, unaware or having already forgotten that one of their own is dead. Trevor enjoys a challenge in all aspects of his life, but for now he’ll a dumb prey over a clever one. He start by mimicking Alucard’s movements and everything seems to be going well. Cumbersome due to his size but after some adjustments to his stance, the dhampir feels optimistic.

Then Trevor loses his chance to strike by half a second. The pheasants begin to disperse, and he rushes into them, striking one with his claws. It tries escaping; Trevor tries catching it. There’s a struggle as both hunter and prey put up their own fight. Jaws clamp down on the bird’s neck, but instead of a clean snap, splatters of blood and feathers cover the white ground. Trevor stares down at his prize, mangled and torn beyond recognition.

—Too rough. Again.

Alucard expected something like this would happen and, in the end, Trevor was successful in finishing his first hunt. So, he isn’t disappointed. Yet Trevor dully paws at what used to be a pheasant with dejection in his eyes. Alucard tries cheering him up by licking his bloody snout clean. It helps.

They come across a drove of jackrabbits with their guard down, a rare but lucky sight. The second hunt goes much smoother. Alucard catches two, Trevor four, all of which hang out of his mouth intact. If Sypha were here right now, she would have a good laugh at the sheer ridiculous sight of such a beast with his jaws stuffed to the brim with rabbits. 

Speak of the devil. Out of the corner of Alucard’s eye, he sees Sypha in the near distance, two pheasants hanging off her hip. He motions for Trevor to follow him.

Trevor doesn’t acknowledge him, nor does he notice Sypha. If a new sound or smell no matter how faraway demands his interest, then he must comply. All else, even close friends, fade away. He can’t help it in this form. He meanders over the hills, leaving Alucard and Sypha to do little but trail behind him. Something tells them that this is not just simple curiosity pulling the lycan.

Silently, Trevor leads them to a clearing in the trees. Out of the darkness, shapes and silhouettes come into view. Not particularly large, but substantial. Some far apart, some close together. Houses, few of which still have candles inside, burning the night away. The softened lights illuminate each frosted window like small drifting halos. It’s deathly still in this hamlet; they might have never discovered its existence had it not been for Trevor.

—Trevor. Alucard joins his side, fearing the worst. His head is lowered as he violently bats at it with his paws, agitated by some unseen tick. Every breath comes out as a growling rasp while streams of saliva drip off his fangs. The look in his eyes, the one Alucard and Sypha know so well, is gone.

It’s happening again. Even the idea of being so close to other humans is enough to reawaken the hunger. Not to hunt or feed, but to rip and mangle and leave nothing unscathed. Trevor loses his balance, stumbling from foot to foot, shaking his head. God knows he’s trying to gain back control, and it hurts him. Alucard barks in his ear, deafening him.

—Fight it. Trevor, or what Alucard hopes is still Trevor, responds with a fierce snap of his jaws. They snarl, and bark, and brandish their claws. Sypha tears her eyes away, despite not wanting to. She can hear voices within the houses, villagers stirring from their rest at what they believe is the sound of two wolves tearing at each other’s throats. She pleads for them to stay inside. This doesn’t concern them.

—Fight it. God damn it, I know you can. Fight it!

Trevor doesn’t care for Alucard’s thoughts. With another swipe, he sends him skidding across the ground and into the base of a tree. The pain is sharp but quick. Alucard stands, thankful that he is no ordinary wolf. Before he can charge at Trevor, Sypha moves between them, her hands raised.

“Trevor, stop!” She’s not afraid, not anymore. Or rather, she doesn’t look afraid. Her expression is firm, brows furrowed. All concentration on this one spell. It needs to be performed without any uncertainty. There’s no fire or ice emitting from her fingertips, yet Trevor howls bloody murder.

Spells that can change the mind and its contents are dangerous. In the hands of a less experienced practitioner, too much can go wrong. If one doesn’t succumb to an early death, then madness. Which is why Sypha has always preferred to manipulate tangible elements. But she’s never been above taking risks. She focuses every bit of her energy into restoring Trevor’s conscience. Hopefully it will shift itself in the right direction and neither she nor Alucard will be forced to commit the unthinkable.

“Look at me... keep your eyes on me. It will be alright, I promise.” Sypha doesn’t make promises lightly. Trevor huffs, gritting his fangs, but his gaze never leaves her. He waves his head from side to side again, as if trying to shake off a terrible headache. The growls quiet until they disappear. Sypha breathes a relieved yet trembling sigh when Trevor’s eyes soften. She steps forward and wraps her arms around his head, so large her fingers barely touch. Her forehead rests against his.

“Shh, none of that. You did well. I told you it would be alright.” She strokes his fur, listening to every whimper.

As his senses return, so too does his memory. Trevor wriggles free from Sypha’s grasp and runs to Alucard, still whining. While shaken up, his body bears no serious injuries, only some out of place fur. That doesn’t stop Trevor from licking and nuzzling him like an overbearing mother wolf. Alucard appreciates the concern, but he can stop now. After a moment of calm respite between the three of them, he decides that this night should come to an end. Before Sypha can follow him, the tip of her hood gets caught in Trevor’s teeth.

“What is it?” He lets go and lowers his underside against the snow, gesturing to his back. He knows Sypha came here by foot, all on her own; he can’t just let her return the same way. “Oh... well, this is...” Does he really want her to...?

Trevor gives her a nudge before she can stutter out another syllable. Alright, then. When in Rome and all that. Grabbing handfuls of fur, Sypha climbs aboard. She fumbles a bit then finds a comfortable position. Moments like these make Sypha thankful for their isolated, self-contained life. How would she explain this to her grandfather or the other Speakers? Even so, she can’t help but bury herself deeper in Trevor’s warm fur.

They catch up to Alucard with his mouth full of dead jackrabbits. Using the light of the moon as their guide, a lycan, a dhampir in the shape of a wolf, and a Speaker magician retrace their steps back to their home. Back to their bed.

--

The next day arrives, bringing with it the sun as it crawls over the Wallachian mountainside. Sypha stirs awake and forces her sleep heavy eyes open. The hazy light of early morning shines through the snow-covered glass of the bedroom window panes. Curling into the fetal position, she holds her knees tight against her chest. Both hands massage her bare feet, alleviating some of their soreness after her midnight excursion.

Is it possible for a single night to feel stretched out to its limits? Lingering for longer than a few hours at the most? Sypha remembers the set of events that occured last night, despite them feeling like a dream. All of them tumbling into place one after another without rest. The last memory is of her in bed, safe, warm, and guarded. A bit suffocated but sleeping better than she did for the entire month. She knows who to thank for that.

Sitting up (a feat much easier said than done), Sypha believes she’ll look down at two wolves who are fast asleep. Just as she did before closing her eyes in the darkness, their bodies cuddled around her. One has white fur and a sleek build; the second, a lycan with thick fur and a mass that might have broken the bed in half.

She sees the white wolf, but in place of the other is a large blanket spreading out. As though the lycan had been neatly skinned and stripped of all its fur. The most curious thing about it is the human-esque shape protruding from underneath. Sypha lifts up one of the corners and with wide, bright eyes, she smiles. None of the books mentioned anything about this.

Trevor lies on his side covered by the fur blanket (or what must have been his skin), naked and in the grips of a deep, comfortable sleep. His breathing is gentle and every so often, a soft snore escapes. Sypha thinks she’s staring at an entirely different man. The tired, dark circles under his eyes are gone and his skin looks softer, healthier. Those years of turmoil and loneliness since he was twelve, all faded away after one night.

Tenderly, she runs a few fingers through his tousled hair. He will be fine. The fear she had when his fangs sharpened, and his eyes grew vicious was only momentary. Sypha wants to be hopeful, her most cherished emotion right after belief. She wants to hope and believe that Trevor might find the strength within himself to live with this curse. She also wants to bend down and hold him for the rest of the morning, no fear that he will disappear the next day or even in the next hour. But Sypha won’t wake him just yet. She slips out of bed, hurrying across the cold floor, a blanket wrapped around her shivering body, until she reaches the manor kitchen.

The lasting effects of a night well slept soon dissipate as Sypha abruptly stops, staring with surprised eyes at Trevor and Alucard’s midnight spoils. Namely, a pile of dead pheasants and hares complete with bloody feathers strewn along the wooden table where they have their meals together. They were all so exhausted, she almost forgot about those.

Sypha walks past the pile and begins preparing her breakfast.

--

Alucard is next to wake up. He opens his mouth in a wide yawn, licking dry lips, before giving his back a good stretch. After a few smooth wisps of mist rising into the air, he returns to his normal form. Fully clothed, wearing everything from his high boots, tight black pants, and the white shirt with the plunging neckline. He remains splayed across the bedsheets, straightening out the rest of his limbs. Letting out a tired yet satisfied moan, Alucard props himself up on his elbow and turns to Trevor. His reaction is just as pleasantly shocked as Sypha’s. Reaching over, he nudges him awake.

“Good morning,” he coos. Once Trevor’s eyes open and he gains an awareness of where he is, his cheeks go slightly pink.

“I didn’t expect this.”

“Did you feel anything transfiguring back?”

“No, nothing at all. If only the first transformation went this way.”

“So, you remember everything we did. Hunting, running...”

“I do... more than I remember most things when I’m human. I don’t think I’ll ever forget what it felt like to run that fast. Then there was... when I almost—”

“Nothing happened. It wasn’t your fault, and no one was hurt. Remember that as well.” Aside from a brief lapse in contentment, Alucard is relieved at how well Trevor is taking everything. He stares at him for a bit longer. His blue eyes, normally so tired and worn, look so much brighter in the winter sunlight. “How do you feel?”

“Good. Actually, I feel better than good. I felt so heavy before. Everywhere I went, even when I met you and Sypha, I was constantly carrying around all this extra weight. You could never see it, but it was there, beating down on my shoulders while I rotted from the inside out. I don’t know, it sounds like I’m being too dramatic. But now... I feel lighter. Newer, I guess. It’s as though I’ve just taken the longest fucking bath of my life.”

“Interesting way to describe it.”

“But, be honest with me.”

“Aren’t I always?”

“How hideous did I look? When I was... you know, in that form?”

Alucard doesn’t answer right away, preferring to keep Trevor in mild suspense. “It was not that terrible of a sight. You might actually look better as a lycan than a human.”

Trevor feebly tosses a pillow at his face. “Shut up.” Then comes an exasperated groan as he shoves his face into what used to be his “skin”. “Christ, that was a long night.”

“Do you think you’ll be able to go through it again?”

A valid question, and an important one. Trevor thinks about it at length. He can’t decide whether he wants his answer to be optimistic or his usual of reluctant acceptance. “I guess we’ll have to see in about a month’s time. Not like I have much of a choice.”

Alucard reaches over and grazes a couple fingertips along his stubbled chin. “You should know that I’m proud of you. We both are.”

“... don’t think I’ve heard that word come out of your mouth before.”

“Which one?”

“Proud. Of me in particular.”

“I’ve been proud of you many times in the past. I simply never vocalized it.”

“Well, my life’s purpose as been fulfilled. Guess I can die a happy man now.”

Grabbing the very same pillow, Alucard brings it down upon Trevor’s head again and again. “That was a horrible joke.” But the hunter, turn lycan, then turned back into a man only laughs.

Real laughter; it’s been too long since Alucard heard that sound.

[aconboyidentity2019]

How “Identity” is represented in a selection of films I’ve recently watched

In these films set by the module, there are different aspects to them that fuel my interpretation of the concept of identity.

Element (1972, Amy Greenfield): This video is a parody of fan service meant to arouse the audience. The woman who is in the mud may not look graceful or pretty while “swimming” in the mud, she is still enjoying it because it makes her happy (shown in the video where she is clearly enjoying it), and filming shows that she does not care about how other people might think: this can represent how people might display their own personal aesthetic mood boards in the unconventional method of making them different sizes and overlapping slightly rather than in neat grids. It also debunks feminine values and stereotypes of being clean and pretty by her doing what she likes subjectively. The women is also alone, meaning that she does not have to fulfill social obligations when in public: that is an aspect that is sadly prevalent throughout life, where we have to act a certain in public life to make sure people do not take offense to expressing your identity. In this video, however, the woman, for what ever reason, can unwind and be herself.

Doll Clothes (1975, Cindy Sherman): In this short film, the paper doll picks out something to wear herself, only for a hand to pick her up and rip the dress off her, before putting her back. The doll is dismayed and looks wistfully at the clothes as the film ends. In other words, the animated short represents how society often controls identities of others, especially women, no matter how they want to portray themselves: individuals throughout history being denied the opportunity to express their own identities due to strict social standards, even today. However, identity can never really be snuffed out from inside, as shown by the paper doll looking at the clothes, discouraged but still longing. The hand that grabbed the doll was live-action, compared to the stop-motion doll, which shows not only the destruction of the happy world that the doll “crafted” for herself, as the hand forcefully grabs the doll and tears off the dress before putting it back, but it also represents how we often arrange things in life without thinking how it would make other people, such as when we play with toys (also how stereotyping can start very young and be harmful). The dress that the paper doll chose was what the doll liked and wanted it to express herself with, much like how people might choose pictures to put on their aesthetic mood boards to present themselves how they feel like.

Fuck Steve (2016, Charlie Goodall): The haunting narration, accompanied by the unsettling dirges in the soundtrack, talks of “Steve” as the worst found within us (destructive habits, negative thinking, isolation, etc.) as shown by ending lines “Steve is you” and “Steve is me”: each sentence starts with Steve as in “Steve is the negative thoughts he can’t stop thinking” and “Steve is going to be naked today even if that means Steve can’t leave the house, because Steve needs to see himself to change”. The mask that “Steve” wears is grotesque and uncanny, not only as a manifestation of the worst-case scenario for an identity but also how people might see themselves when at a low point. The pattern is both rhythmic and effective in getting the message across (a message I express in my own project of the worst choices to make concerning identity). The real face of the man, who puts the mask of “Steve” in the oven to symbolically destroy it, is never seen, which is powerful because now he is free to be any identity he chooses, without the identity of “Steve” dragging him down in life. The uplifting ending tune of Fuck Steve symbolizes how it might be a struggle sometimes to change one’s self for the better, but it is worth it at the end.

Dancing in Peckham (1994, Gillian Wearing): Like Element, the dancing man is doing what he loves, although he is surrounded by people who might take offense to what he is doing. In fact, people passing him only glance at him briefly before moving on with their day: a common fear that people have about sharing their identities is people who might oppose them. However, by showing that people do not really care about the dancing since the man is not harming anyone, it shows that people can freely express themselves without consequences. That is how I feel people would express themselves when showing off their mood board to the world, without worrying what others will make of them. The man is also dancing because he does not care about what impressions others will make when first looking, as long as they let him get on with his life, doing what he loves: no matter what stereotypes people may get the impression of when they look at other peoples’ mood boards.

I’m Not The Girl Who Misses Much (1986, Pippilotti Rist): In this parody of a female pop music video, the music and voice is speed-up to a comedic pitch to deconstruct how women are sexualised in music videos, so that viewers are forced to pay attention to anything other than the girl’s appearance (that is obscured).

Semiotics of the Kitchen (1975, Martha Rosler): The director takes on the role of a “housewife” in a kitchen (parodying cooking show demonstrations), where she goes from “A” to “Z” of kitchen tools. Her acting is frustrated and solemn when she uses the tools, particularly the nutcracker, knives and rolling pin, in response to the constricting roles of women at the time (like Doll Clothes). The silence, apart from the use of the tools, emphasize the anger and loneliness the woman currently feels at being forced in her current “role”. The director spelling out the ending letters of the alphabet (from “U”) because there are no tool beginning with those letters is strangely powerful, since it gives the impression if tools with those starting initials existed back then, society would have forced women to use them like with all the others. This short is similar to Sauté Ma Ville (1989, Chantel Akerman), where the “plots” serve as a deconstruction of domestic home life that was only available to women at the time with the protagonists slipping into insanity due to the isolation. Martha herself has said about the film, “I was concerned with something like the notion of 'language speaking the subject,' and with the transformation of the woman herself into a sign in a system of signs that represent a system of food production, a system of harnessed subjectivity.". The woman in the deconstructive parody is “trapped” within a role she does not want (like many women were at the time) because of her objective status as a women, no matter what she might be like subjectively.

Boomerang (1974, Nacy Holt & Richard Serra): Nancy Holt, the woman in the video, is experimenting with being filmed while talking during delayed electricity. Not only that, she is exploring her thought process as she speaks, saying lines such as “I have double take on myself”, “I am once removed from myself” and “I’m throwing things out into the world”: the session forces her to review her thoughts and review her identity and how she approaches things, much like how some people might experiment how they approach the creation of their mood boards. As she talks, the words “bounce” back to her in a different pitch, giving her insight on how she says things.

[pllandcompany]

Fire Meet Gasoline (Part Two)

Summary: Hospital!AU. Family dinners are hard. Therapy sessions are worse. Fortunately, both eventually come to an end.

Warnings: mention of past drug use/addiction, description of past child abuse, some yelling, crying, description of anxiety, food mention, drinking/drunk character

Tagged:  @ziallwarrior @thefallendog @apologieslogan @trueunreal @flyingfreeyt @thecatchat @crofters-jam @jakesmolbean @band-be-boss-blog @ab-artist @asylia-5911 @backatthebein @oonagh-una

Pairings: Romantic Logince and QPP Moxiety

Notes: Part Two is here! I tried something a little different with the writing style, it’s a little more dialogue heavy than I usually do and the scenes with Logan and Roman are not taking place at the same time as Patton and Virgil. I basically kind of mashed up two standalone fics in one; hopefully it isn’t too confusing. Also, I’m sorry if I suck at writing Picani. Cartoons are not my forte (thank you, deprived childhood). As always, feedback is appreciated and enjoy!

 The waiting room was quiet, almost eerily so. A clock tick, tick, ticked steadily behind the heads of the two gentlemen seated in the desolate vestibule. A deep sigh echoed against the walls followed by the impatient drumming of fingertips on a plastic chair. Gentle hands clasped the anxious fingers, drawing a surprised glance from the drummer. The hands drew back to their original place and silence reigned supreme in the space once again. Tentative peace was broken once again by the drawn-out gurgling of a nervous stomach accompanied by flushed cheeks and a chuckle from both men. The unexpected moment briefly released a modicum of tension from the atmosphere and the first words were spoken.

“Sorry. Didn’t eat much before I came here. Nerves.”

“I can tell. Maybe we can go have lunch afterwards?”

A pause. “We’ll see about that.”

“Roman Courtland? Logan Taylor?” A bright voice pierced the air, earning the surgeons’ attention. “Well, what are you two peering at me with your Brown-Eyed Peas for? Come on in; let’s get it started in here!” The therapist sung the last few words of his sentence, posing valiantly as if it was the most brilliant joke known to man. The pervasive silence definitely indicated otherwise.

“I apologize, Dr. Picani, I don’t know that one.”

Dr. Picani hunched his shoulders but maintained his giddy smile. “Not a problem, Logan. It wasn’t my best work anyway. Seriously though, let’s get started.” He began frantically ushering the pair into his office. Roman lagged slightly, already unimpressed.

“Wonderful. It’s like Patton on speed.”

****

“Honey, you gotta slow down. You’re gonna burn yourself or break something!”

Patton closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It was only about the millionth time Dot had panicked over his speed in the kitchen.

“Mom, I’m fine. I always work this fast and stay safe. You taught me how to, remember?” He gave her a gentle but pointed look. “You’re hovering. Don’t worry so much. I’ve got this.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, honey. I just can’t help it! It’s what moms do, you know.”

“I know, Mom, it’s…it’s fine. Maybe you and Dad can help set the table? That is if he’s not still traumatized from surgery this afternoon.” Patton chuckled to himself at the thundering footsteps rushing down the hallway. Larry skidded to a halt in the kitchen doorway, pointing at Patton vigorously.

“No! You do not get to mock me! You took a needle the length of my arm and stuck it in a pregnant woman’s stomach! And you made me watch it!”

“Yes, honey, but he did it to fix her baby’s heart defect. He saved a life before it was even born.” Dot was practically beaming. Larry shuddered, still trying to erase the image from his brain.

“I get that, son, and we’re so proud but…I don’t know how you ever got used to that. You’re braver than me, that’s for sure.” Patton had to let himself grin on that one.

“It’s just my job, Dad, but…thanks. Can you and Mom set the table? Dinner’s almost ready.”

Dot checked her watch, suddenly furrowing her brow. “Sweetie, didn’t you tell Virgil to be here at 6:00? It’s almost 6:30.”

Patton looked up sharply. “Really? Wow, I didn’t realize it was that…late…”

“You are sure he wanted to do this, right, son?”

“Larry, don’t do that! Something could have come up; he is a surgeon too. Maybe there’s an emergency.”

“But wouldn’t they have also paged Patton? Wouldn’t he have let him know he had to go to the hospital? I’m just saying- “

“Mom, Dad, calm down. Virgil probably got held up with something at work. He is chief of trauma now; that comes with a lot of responsibility that he has to fulfill before he can leave.” He turned back to the pot in front of him, stirring the sauce absently. “He’ll show. Don’t worry; he’ll show up.”

****

It took Roman a second to process what he was seeing. Posters of cartoons and Disney movies littered the walls and there were plush animals and toys piled in a corner. He couldn’t even readily identify the plaque that held this man’s doctorate under the multiple stickers that covered the frame.

“Are you a children’s therapist?” God, I hope so, Roman thought.

“No! Everyone always says that, I haven’t the foggiest idea why…” Roman shot a dark look to Logan who widened his eyes and nodded to the red leather couch for him to sit. Roman pursed his lips and sat down on the opposite end from Logan.

He was not convinced about this at all.

“Okeydokey, welcome to couples’ therapy! I am Dr. Picani and while I’m no stranger to Logan over here, I don’t know you as well, Mr. Roman Empire so why don’t you tell me about yourself?” Roman raised an eyebrow at the rapid-fire introduction. This guy literally chirps when he talks. He let out a deep sigh and folded his arms across his chest, barely concealing his irritation.

“Okay…well, my name is Dr. Roman Courtland and I’m a neurosurgeon.”

“Oh, fascinating! So, you study the brain too! Well then, this should be a piece of cake for you!” Roman simply huffed in response, earning a look from Logan. Dr. Picani would not be deterred though. “Okay, well, obviously you two are here to work out some issues in your relationship, right? So, what’s going on in the world of Rolo?”

“Rolo?” Roman spat out incredulously.

“Yes, it’s your ship name! Just a little something I like to do with my couples.”

“Well, I don’t like chocolate.”

“Roman! That’s enough!” Logan’s shout startled both the counselor and the neurosurgeon. “Why are you being so rude? I admitted to you previously that his methods were unconventional. I also told you that they have helped me tremendously. Can you please just give it a chance?” Roman leaned back against the arm rest on his side of the couch, folding his arms yet again.

“Fine…what’s up, Doc?”

Dr. Picani smirked at the defensive doctor. “Very clever! You’re a quick one! Okay, back to the world of Rolo.”

Silence pervaded the space. “I-I’ll start.”

“All right, Logan, way to be the Brave Little Toaster and heat up this discussion! What’s on your mind?”

“Well, I believe that I am…no…I feel…afraid.”

“Good job. It’s okay to admit your feelings.”

“Afraid of what?” Roman’s voice was harsh and unyielding, the coldness rattling Logan slightly.

“I…well, I’m afraid that you want to leave me. I fear that my deception has pushed you away.”

Roman scoffed. “I think I’ve proven that I won’t do that.”

“Maybe not but you still resent me. I can tell; I’m not-”

“Stupid? No, definitely not. It takes incredible mental skill to manipulate those closest to you into believing nothing’s wrong without them ever catching on.”

Logan recoiled. “You’re angry.” Roman turned away and looked at the wall. “And rightfully so. You of all people didn’t deserve to be lied to. I am deeply sorry for that.”

Roman didn’t answer.

****

“Sweetie? Honey, the food’s getting cold, maybe we should eat- “

“Just heat it up then, Mom!” Patton was visibly tense.

“Hey! Don’t talk to your mother like that! She’s trying to help you!”

“I know, I know but I don’t need help because he’s coming! He just got held up at the hospital. He’s on his way.”

Dot hesitated, fearing the consequences of her next words. “But sweetheart…we haven’t heard from him- “

“He’s coming, Mom!” Patton looked down the hallway, listening for the door. “He’s coming.”

****

“Logan, why don’t you go ahead and tell Roman what we talked about sharing with him last session?”

Logan looked up, his face impassive except for the mild fear glazing over his eyes. “Now? Oh, ah…all right.” He took a beat to calm his nerves. “Roman. Firstly, I want you to know that I lo- “

“Can I ask a question?” Roman was looking straight at Dr. Picani who looked back at him, slightly surprised. “Well, I believe Logan had something he wanted say- “

“No, it’s fine. You may ask your question, Roman.” The neurosurgeon shifted forward, finally facing Logan with a steely gaze.

“I want to know…what made you start using? The first time, not this time.”

Logan’s face remained blank, the pounding of his heart secretly betraying him. “I don’t see how that’s relevant.”

“Really? You don’t see how it’s relevant?” Sarcasm dripped from each word.

“Let’s stay calm here, Roman. This is a safe space.” Logan held up a hand to cut off Picani.

“No, Roman, I do not see how the genesis of my addiction is relevant to our current circumstances. Please elaborate.” Logan could be sarcastic too.

“You’re telling me that you don’t see how the origin of the sole issue that is ripping the very fabric of our relationship apart is relevant to our current conversation? You really can’t see that?” Roman’s voice was starting to rise.

“That is not fair!” Logan began to shout back.  “Our issues are not all on me! It takes two people to make or break something!”

“Exactly! And while I have given you everything, you have given me nothing!”

“I couldn’t, Roman! I was sick and overwhelmed; I couldn’t give anyone anything!”

“No, of course not, because addiction isn’t your fault! Because you have a disease! Because you were traumatized!”

“Don’t you dare mock me. You can resent me all you want but I won’t tolerate being mocked.”

“I’m not mocking you! I am just stating facts. Because of the nature of your condition, you can’t ever be blamed for anything! This leaves me to shoulder the burden of our entire relationship!”

Logan froze, his eyes filling with tears. “You think of me…as a burden?”

Roman panted, his eyes blown wide. “No…no, that’s not what I meant.”

“Well, then what did you mean?!” He was outwardly panicking now. Dr. Picani had to step in.

“Logan? I think Roman is trying to say that he feels alone in this relationship. Am I close, Doctor?” Picani bore a slight smirk on his face at Roman’s stunned expression.

“Um, yeah, yes. I do…feel alone.” He turned back to Logan. “And I don’t want to be. But…I don’t know you, Logan. Not truly. And it makes it not trust you. I have to know you to trust you, so I need you to give me something. Tell me something honest. Tell me how this all started so I can better understand how to help you fight it. Because I want to, Logan. I want you. All of you, even the broken parts.”

Logan stared down at the ground hard, fighting the urge to break down. The room held their breath as they waited for him to come back to them. After an agonizing eternity, Logan finally looked up, a stony expression draped over his face like an iron curtain.

“Okay. I’ll tell you.”

****

“I’m gonna go ahead and start cleaning up, dear.” Patton didn’t move a muscle, barely noticing his mother shift next to him and start gathering plates. He was drowning in disappointment. How could Virgil do this? They had come so far, how could desert him now? Larry reached out and grabbed his son’s hand, squeezing it reassuringly. “I’m so sorry, son. I know how much this meant to you- “

The sound of a frantic doorbell pierced the air. Patton shot up from his chair like a rocket, practically sprinting to the door. He wrenched it open to discover a disheveled Virgil, dressed in an all-black suit and holding a wilted bouquet of roses.

“Virgil! What happened to you?! You’re two hours late!”

“PATTY!” Virgil bellowed, opening his arms wide and swaying slightly.

“And you’re drunk…” Patton couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

“Only a little but ‘ts fine, Patty…” He was slurring badly.

“You never drink.”

“First time for -hic- everything!”

“Virgil, what the hell is this? Why would you sabotage this evening?!”

“Psssh, I dunno, it’s crazy, right? Maybe I’m crazy, Pat!” He wildly gestured to his head, bugging his eyes out almost comically. Patton continued to rant, ignoring the erratic behavior.

“Virgil Davidson, this is not a joke! You were supposed to be there for me tonight! Do you know how scared my parents were for me when I came out? How much they worried that no one would understand and what that would do me? And now I’ve finally found someone who does understand but when I need them, they don’t show up! You know how important this was to me! You know how much it means to my family that they know the person that loves me!”

“Yes, I know, I know, it’s important to you, it’s important to them, my job is important, it’s all so freakin’ important and it’s too much! I can’t handle it! I am not good enough to do any of this!” His voice suddenly cleared up as he started to shout. Patton watched sorrowfully as his partner broke down in front of him. “I’m not good enough for you or your family, Pat. My dad was a drunk. My mom was a junkie. Hell, maybe I’m a drunk too. It’s in my blood! It’s who I am! I am made…from bad blood. So…you’re better off, your family is better off…”

Patton swallowed thickly, gathering up the courage to battle Virgil’s negative thoughts. “You think I’m better off.”

“Yeah!” Virgil flailed his arms dangerously.

“Without you.”

“Yeah, Pat, that’s what I said!”

“I’m sorry but…that! Is a damn lie!”

A sudden gasp sucked up all the air between them. “You-you never curse, Patty…” Virgil stumbled again as Patton took the hand free of roses in both of his.

“Virgil…you are good enough. You are so good. To me, to your patients. Your past will always be your past, sure, but it doesn’t define everything about you. In fact, it’s part of what’s made you so good and kind and loving: because you’ve suffered unimaginable pain and you want to protect others from ever feeling that way. I just wanted you to share that kindness with my family, that’s all.”

Virgil stared into middle space, eyes shining. “I’m good?”

Patton chuckled lightly. “Yeah, Virge. Of course you are. You know that.”

“Yeah…yeah, you’re right. I am good…I’m good. I’m good!” Virgil suddenly took off past Patton, through the open door…and right into the kitchen where Patton’s parents were still cleaning. Patton was hot on his heels but not fast enough to stop him.

“Hey! You guys! Patton’s family!” Larry and Dot whirled around at the same time, both wearing expressions of equal parts anger and confusion.

“Oh, geez,” Patton mumbled.

“Oh, now you show up. You listen to me,” his father growled, launching forward. Dot just barely held him back in time.

“Larry, no! You just calm down!” Dot turned to Virgil, brow furrowed in disappointment. “What are you doing here? Why bother coming now?”

“Look, I know you’re probably thinking all sorts of terrible shit about me right now! I showed up wicked late. I’m drunk. And I’m wearing all black so you probably think I’m some child of darkness and the truth is…I am. I don’t get family, like, at all. My family was super messed up, my childhood was insanity. I don’t know what it’s like to have parents like you. ​But I do know what it’s like to be loved. And even though sometimes I’m really shitty at showing it, I also know what it is to love someone and that is because…of your son. I love your son. A lot. A whole heck of a lot and because I love him…I wanna get to know you. Maybe then I’ll finally get what family is, you know? If…if you don’t hate me, that is.”

Nobody dared to move and break the palpable tension in the room. Every muscle in Patton’s legs twitched but he forced himself to stay still. Virgil had to face this on his own. The two parents exchanged a brief look, one that implied a seemingly secret communication. As if taking a cue from a director, Larry began to slowly walk forward towards the shuddering trauma surgeon.

“Oh God, are you gonna punch me out?” Virgil was terrified.

“What? No! I was gonna offer you a seat and some water. You look like you need to sit down, son.”

Virgil eyes shone for the second time that night. “Son?” His voice was barely above a whisper.

“Have you eaten, dear? We still have some pasta left. You should have some food and water and then you should get some sleep. We can talk more in the morning. Ooh, we should go for a pancake breakfast! That would be nice!”

“Or we could just make pancakes here, Dottie dearest!”

“Oh, don’t be so cheap, Larry, this is a special occasion! We’re expanding our family!”

Patton walked over from the hallway and collapsed at the table across from Virgil, both doctors too stunned to mind the gentle bickering of Larry and Dot over breakfast plans.

“I cannot believe that worked,” Virgil mumbled. Patton gently laid his hand over the shocked surgeon’s, a loving smile lighting up his face.

“I can.”

****

“It was the third year of my residency. I was the resident on call that night and after already having been at the hospital for a coronary revascularization that took hours, I was paged. I hadn’t even left yet but a massive apartment fire broke out and they needed hands. People came flooding in, the unit was packed; it was typical trauma madness. I was working on a 40-year-old man. He had what looked like minor injuries, a couple broken ribs, a head laceration, minor burns. I checked his airway, did an examination, stitched his head wound and moved on to the next patient. Three hours later, my attending was telling me that he was dead. He had a brain bleed and by the time we finally caught it, it was too late.” Logan stopped himself briefly, clearing his throat and letting out a choked sob.

Roman didn’t dare interrupt.

“My attending told me that he was a single father and the injuries he sustained were from pulling his two daughters out of the fire. He then said…that this man absolutely would have had a chance if I had bothered to order a head CT when I first saw him but because I was careless and failed to follow protocol, he was dead. He asked why I didn’t order the scan and I had to tell him the truth. I simply…forgot. It was shameful, I know but I was exhausted and rushed and I just…forgot. God, he was furious.”

“Why didn’t you ever tell me this?” The neurosurgeon’s voice was soft and tentative.

“I didn’t want you to think I was weak. I didn’t want you to see…how failure follows me everywhere I go.”

“That’s not true.” Logan went on as if he didn’t even hear him speak.

“My attending then forced me to deliver the news to his two young children. He called it a learning experience. He said it would make me stronger, more careful.” Logan chuckled bitterly. “I guess he was wrong. After I informed the family, I left the hospital with my prescription pad and drove straight to a 24-hour pharmacy. It’s funny. I picked up the drugs because I wanted to erase that night from my memory but…I’ve never forgotten it. And it happens every time. I fall into the trap of thinking the drugs will mask the pain but it’s still there.”

“Logan…you were a resident. You were young and inexperienced, you’re bound to make mistakes. God knows I did.”

“But I am not supposed to!” Dr. Picani leaned in.

“Why, Logan? Why can’t you make mistakes?”

“Because the mistakes we make cost people their lives.”

“What else?” Roman prodded.

“What?”

“No, we all have that responsibility as doctors. And we all fall short at times, but it doesn’t break us like it broke you. So what else is there?”

Logan struggled to find his words. “My…mother was not…understanding when it came to failure. She had…high standards.”

“About?” “Everything. From my performance in school to how I should dress to how I should behave, about everything. And if I did not meet those standards, she was…unkind.”

Roman closed his eyes. “Did she hit you?”

“Never. But she did…other things. Denied me food. Locked me in closets and screamed at me to study. So many nights I fell asleep in the linen closet on a textbook with a dead flashlight in my hand. One time, I failed a test and the teacher called her about it. Before I got home…she had the locks changed. I slept at a friend’s home for the rest of that week until she finally gave me a new set of keys.” Logan rattled off his list of horrors in a detached manner, as if he was reciting a grocery list instead of recounting the most painful memories of his life. Roman didn’t dare to move or speak. He simply held Logan’s hand until he suddenly made eye contact with him, terror and pain clouding his eyes.

“Don’t you see now, Roman? How it was so easy for me to believe David Bacall’s words? I’ve heard them my whole life.” Roman had to clear his throat before he could talk again.

“Well, then…everything you’ve heard your entire life is wrong.” Without warning, the cardiac surgeon crumpled into Roman’s chest, clinging to him for dear life as he cried. “You are not a failure. No matter what mistakes you’ve made, you are still a good person. You are worthy of love. Give yourself room to be human, darling. I’m here, I can help you through it. It’s okay, Logan. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”

****

“Virge. Virge, wake up.”

“Mmm, noooo. It hurts to wake up.”

“Hmm, I bet, that’s what happens when you drink yourself silly. How much did you have anyway?”

“You know that bottle of rum we split when we dressed up as pirates for Halloween?”

“Yeah…oh, Virgil, no.”

“Yep, it’s gone. Along with my dignity.”

“Nonsense. My father actually appreciated your blunt honesty. And my mother found you quite charming. They are concerned though that you’re doing…okay.”

Virgil thought for a moment. “Maybe I’m not as great as I thought I was. But I still have you so I’m pretty good.”

Patton smiled, running his fingers through Virgil’s hair. “Still, I think we should check in with Nate. Just to make sure we’re on a healthy track.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“And no more drinking alone.”

“No more drinking period, this is awful.”

“Aww. You know the best cure for a hangover? Pancakes and friendly conversation! Come on, Sailor Jerry, let’s get up.”

“Ugh, no alcohol references, please.”

“Aye, aye, Captain!...Morgan…”

“You hate me.”

“I love you.”

****

“Roman? Whatcha thinkin’ there, slugger?” Dr. Picani’s brow was knitted tight with concern.

“I just…don’t know how we move forward together now, Logan.”

“Wh-what?”

“I still want to, of course! It’s just…if failure is a trigger for you then how can I ever feel safe expressing how I feel when I’ve been hurt? Or when I’ve hurt you? Because it’s going to happen. We’re human, we’re going to fail each other. But I can’t have you going and hurting yourself because things fell apart. I won’t be in a relationship like that, I love you too much to put you through that.”

“Well, now, hold on here, Roman,” Dr. Picani chimed in, “keep in mind that Logan’s recovery is ultimately Logan’s responsibility. You can support him, sure thing, but managing his feelings and his reactions to those feelings? That’s on him. You know that, right, Logan?”

“Absolutely. That’s what being here has done for me. I have plenty of coping skills at my disposal to navigate difficult emotions. Other than using drugs, of course.”

“That being said, Roman brings up a good point: how does Rolo move forward? I think the best way to ensure that your relation-ship stays afloat is with open and honest communication! Logan, you need to make sure that you’re talking to Roman honestly about your feelings which means first talking honestly to yourself about them. Own your emotions and don’t be scared to let them out! Look at all the things you opened up about today. Is Roman rejecting you? No. He’s right here, willing to stay with you through this.” Logan looked at his partner, realization dawning.

“And Roman, you need to create a safe space for Logan to heal by letting him go at his own pace. You can’t push him to be vulnerable. Healing can’t be forced, otherwise it’s not real healing. Don’t underestimate his strength. It takes a lot to push him towards wanting to use. And one other thing…you need to forgive him. He knows he hasn’t been fair to you but he’s willing to make the commitment to showing you that things will be different now. Forgive him and trust that he’ll come to you.”

“That’s actually what I was going to say earlier. I thought that admitting that I recognize how I’ve hurt you and apologizing would be what you needed to hear. I didn’t anticipate you needing to know why it happened.”

“You don’t need to apologize anymore, Logan. You’ve felt guilty for enough, far more than you ever should have. And my anger earlier was misplaced. I’m not angry with you, I’m angry at the situation. I’m angry that someone would ever think to willfully hurt someone as wonderful as you.  And I was hurt that you didn’t tell me why you were hurting so much, especially after what we went through together. I haven’t always been fair to you either and I’ve tried so hard to make up for it. Being shut out…it made me think that you didn’t trust me, and that thought was…so painful. So, I lashed out. And I’m sorry. You don’t deserve that. You’re trying.”

Logan gently took Roman’s hands into his own. “As are you.”

Dr. Picani smiled fondly at the new development between the two surgeons. “Hey guys…you’re sitting next to each other now.” Both men looked down simultaneously to their now touching thighs, exchanging hesitant but sweet smiles at each other when they looked up. “You know, I’m gonna go ahead and prescribe one more thing for you two.”

“What would that would be, Dr. Picani?”

“Simple: Go on a date. Once Logan comes home and you two feel ready, go out! Have fun with each other! Laugh, talk about anything other than therapy or work. Remember what it was like to fall in love with each other. You two have been through so much and you’ve come out on the other side together. Go celebrate that! Celebrate your lives.”

“That sounds…most reasonable. We…we can do that.” Roman nodded in agreement.

“Splendid! Welp, that’s all folks! Gotta run to the next session! And I mean literally run, it’s all the way on the other side of campus.”

“Porky Pig!” Roman blurted out.

“Nice catch of the reference, Dr. Roman Empire. Very clever. Now, Logan, I’ll see you in a few days and you two cool cats back here next week! Okay, shoo, I wasn’t kidding about needing to run.”

“Oh, well, we’ll be going then.” Logan rushed out of the door, leaving Roman to pause and turn to the cheerful therapist. “Doctor?”

“Yes, Roman?”

“I, uh, I’m…thank you.” Dr. Picani simply nodded, a gentle smile playing on his lips. Roman nodded back before joining his partner in the hallway.

“Well then! Now that we’re done with that, shall we grab that lunch we discussed earlier?”

Logan grinned earnestly. “Sure. I think I know a place.”

[calling-gull]

Hope

(From an RP in Discord) ( @tirasiansails @atc-wra (And I don’t know if Nallaen has a tumblr XD)

A conversation of sensitive topics had gone on weeks before, and Daniel was excited with the idea that it just might be possible.

A long stretch of silence passed from the arcanist until late one evening, a letter would find its way to Captain Conaroy. The method of delivery, a medium sized, dour looking Raven fluttered to the window of the man's residence, pecking insistently at whatever window or method of entry there was to Daniel's quarters until it's presence was acknowledged and it's missive delivered. Upon delivery, the black corvid would tarry, almost ensuring that the man read the letter right then and there before taking wing again and disappearing into the Stormwind streets. 

The letter itself was a small, rolled piece of parchment that read thus: "Captain Conaroy, I believe suitable enough progress has been made for me to reveal the fruits of my labor. Please join me in a small warehouse at the end of the docks. #185. Knock Thrice. -N" A 30 minute walk away, in the above mentioned warehouse, a disheveled looking  warlock mumbles to himself as he scratches out a series of runes onto the stone floor in charcoal, often looking over to a journal of notes seated some ways away to his right. His clothes are stained with soot, some sort of weird ichor, and Light knows what else. Apparently, Nallaen had been through the ringer on this one. Not far from him on a table, sat a mess of supplies, an empty pot that once held a steaming pool of Koda Bean Brew and a half consumed bottle of bourbon.

Daniel rolled over with a groan at the sound of the incessant tapping on his window. Brushing hair out of his face, and rubbing the sand from his eyes, he manages to open one of them to see what's causing the ruckus. "Huh. That's new." Opening the window, he looked the bird over, a bit taken aback when he saw the small paper rolled and tied to one leg. Interesting. he'd seen plenty of pigeons carrying missives, but a raven? Tentatively, but with calm ease, he reached for, and retrieved the note, reading it immediately. If someone had sent him a message with this unconventional courier, then it must be important. Ah, his meeting with that one. Good, he was eager to see what the man had devised. 

It didn't take him long to throw on some clothes, grab up a few things, and head out with a skip in his step, and a whistle on his lips. The walk wasn't onerous, and he enjoyed it. Arriving at the warehouse, he did knock the three times, and waited. In his hand, a string-bag of various fruits for Nallaen. He knew how the magicky folk got when they were working on something, and thought the man could probably use something to help refresh and restore energy.

The door creaks open just enough for someone to peek out of it to see who was there for a moment before opening fully and greeting Daniel with a full look at Nallaen Ravenstone. It was a quite a different look from when he last saw him, and his suspicions were in fact correct. To say that the warlock was a fucking mess was, in fact, a kindness. His hair, normally pulled back into a that tight ponytail, was completely untied and hung messily down to his shoulders, adding more depth to an already gaunt face. "Good. You made it." Nall says, stepping back to let Daniel in before hastily shutting the door behind him and locking it. "This way." Leading Daniel back to the workspace, Nallaen picks up a piece of charcoal that he had set down on the table (along with the bottle of bourbon) and turns to face the captain. "How much do you know about magical theory?" He asks, pulling the cork out of the bottle with his teeth and spitting it out before taking a pull from the bourbon.

Daniel followed the man with a shake of the head. Yep. One of those obsessed types. He'd seemed that way when they'd met, even as stoic as he'd been.  It was just a feeling you got once in a while. "Not a damn bit of it." He reaches out with the bag of fruit, "Here, eat somethin' while ya talk." That's it, Danny, be eloquent. "Tell me what you've discovered. Somethin' new?"

Nallaen eyes the bag of fruit suspiciously, seemingly weighing the decision between eating and paranoia. Obviously, Daniel really wasn't ever really going to profit off of Nallaen's death but that didn't mean the warlock was going to worry about it. Reluctantly, Nallaen takes the bag of fruit and mumbles a 'Thanks' before tossing it onto his workspace and digging out a piece of it, taking a bite and swallowing before speaking again, wiping away some juice from his chin with a dirty sleeve. "Without getting too deep into the specifics, what you originally asked for is an incredibly complex task for a number of various reasons, the least of all being the fact that these will probably be used in active combat." Nall takes another bite, speaking through a mouthful of mulch. "Nowuh. When you're moving somthink through a poortal, it's kinda lyke a dour." Swallow. "Problem is we don't need a door. We need a hook."

"Like fishin'. Ya need somethin' ta grab, an' pull through the other side? Somethin' like that?" He watched the Warlock munch the fruit with satisfaction. Sabine would be a little miffed at him if he let this man die of neglect while working on this project. He hummed and had a beard-strokey moment before nodding. "Alright. Makes sense." He gestured for the man to continue, and eagerly awaited the rest. It didn't show, however. Only the calm, quiet demeanor was shown. For now.

"Precisely. Just like fishing." Nallaen replies taking another bite and leaning back against his work station. "What are some things you need to consider when casting that hook? Speed? Distance? Wind? Other hooks, aye? " He asks. "To continue with that analogy, these are things to consider when moving items or people through temporal space. Not to mention the fact that we are on a giant moving target itself. Once you start factoring variable, the magic required becomes mindbogglingly intricate. However..." Nallaen turns and picks up a small stone before moving towards Daniel and pressing it into his hands. "A week’s worth of sleepless nights have produced what I believe to be a viable solution to our little fishing problem." The stone itself is a small, round orb hewn from obsidian, perfectly smooth save for various etchings that have carved into it's surface. On those etchings, a faint, glimmering substance can be seen when it catches the light at just the right angle. "You're going to help me test it."

Danny holds up the stone, inspecting it with interest for a few moments. He'd been growing ever more intent on the explanation as it went on, and felt a small surge of excitement, though it never showed. "How'm I gonna help ya test it? And are ya gonna tell Sabine what's happened if ya send me ta the other side'v the world? Or worse, if ya turn me inside out?"

Nallaen shakes his head. "I mean, yes, if for some reason my calculations are off, there are any infinite number of possible outcomes that could occur, including wearing your organs on the outside, but if you consider that as one out come out of well...infinite...the odds are extremely low." Nallaen replies, taking another bite from his fruit. "My tests thus far have been successful on inanimate objects, no harm done." Nallaen says, very slowly sliding a bit to the right to block a pile of charred looking rocks from sight. "I need a living breathing thing the size of what we will be moving to know that I am successful. This is for all the marbles, Daniel."

Danny sighs, and shakes his head. "We needa find another livin' thing ta try it on first. Then I gotta let Sabine know. If I were ta vanish again without a word..." He shrugs, shaking his head. "I can't do it to the gal again." He paces back and forth for a moment or two, and then stops. "Let me find a bunny or somethin'. Somethin' living that we can say came out alright in the end." He knew, though, she'd likely explode at him and demand he not put himself in danger. After all, he had airships to build. and, maybe, a life with her like they'd wanted so long ago.

"I need something of similar size and shape, my friend. A bunny isn't going to do the trick." Nallaen replies, taking another bite from his piece of fruit, which has been an apple this entire time. "Listen, I wouldn't even be asking if this wasn't ready for this phase of testing. If this works, the only question becomes range extension and then mass production."

A frown crosses Daniel's lips, and he says, "Hold up a moment. I do need ta let her know. After all, she is in charge after the Duchess and admiral, and I report ta them." He touches the comm in his pocket, and thinks of Sabine. "Gal, are ya there?"

Nallaen sighs and waves a hand, indicating is his acquiescence for permission. As he waits he finishes what’s left of the apple and tosses the core aside, moving to his desk and sitting down with a soft grunt, picking up his bourbon bottle again and tipping it back.

There was a heavy grogginess to her voice, laced with a near whine on complaint as she mumbled sleepily," It's latteee and I just got to sleep for fucksake. This better be important."

"Sorry, gal, but I gotta do somethin', and the outcome's uncertain. I didn't want ta do it without tellin' ya. Here with mister Ravenstone. He thinks he's got a solution ta the problem'v brinelings an' others takin' folk off our ships."

There was a long moment of deathly silence as her sleep hazed mind took its sweet time absorbing this information. When she finally spoke again there was a hint of venom in her voice. 'Whatever it is you are doing, you best come back to in the same shape you left me. Otherwise, inform Mr. Ravenstone I will make him wish he were dead."

Hiding a chuckle, Daniel resoponds. "I'll tell 'im, love. Don't worry. I've faith in the man. I'm not leavin' ya again. Not for anythin'." He turns back to Nallaen, and repeats Sabine's threat word for word. "Alright, man. I'm at yer disposal. Jus' try not ta dispose of me, eh?"

Nallaen rolls his eyes and mumbles something about granting wishes and then he stands, moving over to Daniel and patting him on the shoulder. "Trust me, Captain. If that was my intent this is not the way I would do it. If you would be so kind as to move to end of the warehouse and stand on the 'x' I've marked there. Once you've done that, simply crush the stone in your hand."

Without a word, Daniel nods, and does just that. With the ground-eating pace that came naturally to him, he moved to the X, and stood there. With a bit of a prayer to keep him in one piece, he crushes the stone in one large hand.

Nallaen's obsidian stone, while seeming quiet solid is actually crushed quiet easily in Daniel's hand and the moment it turns to dust, there's a brilliant purple glow from the clenched fist. From there, there is a massive surge of energy and the captain is enveloped by a cloud of that brilliant purple glow. Next thing he knows, Daniel suddenly feels himself lurched forward as if suddenly the whole of Azeroth took off, the strange sensation of being pulled apart molecule by molecule and then hastily recombobulated all at once but yet taking an eternity.  Needless to say, it wasn't an entirely pleasant sensation. A few moments later, the strange dilation of time and space would suddenly come to a harsh halt, Daniel being dumped right above the strange circle Nallaen had been drawing on the ground before the captain had arrived, the runes glowing bright and hot as he's unceremoniously spat out of the ether and back onto the floor. 

"Okay. Might be just a tad off coordinate wise, but none worse for the wear I think." Nallaen says, striding back over to the man and holding out the bottle of booze for him.

The sensation was not the least pleasant thing he'd ever felt, but it came close to the top. Inside the 'portal', his body tried to react to the feeling, but couldn't, as he was held still. Probably a good thing when one was being ripped from one place, and spat out at another. As he was deposited in the circle, he staggered a bit, catching himself on something soft. When he looked, he realized it was Nallaen's arm. Oops. He took the bottle, and then handed it back, several gulps later. "Well. I seem ta be in one piece..."

"And there are certainly worse fates." Nallaen replies, taking the bottle back and moving to his workspace, scribbling something down on his notes as he takes another pull from it. Nothing like drunken rune work. 

"So the only things to do now is re-write the runes to account for larger distances and then figure out a way how we're going to -pay- for all of this to be made."

"We'll figure a way. If this can save even a few who're dragged off ship. or cast overboard in a storm, then it'll be worth it." He offers his hand with a rarely-seen grin.  "Well done, sir. No matter the success of this in the future, well done."

Nallaen takes his hand and gives it a squeeze and three pumps. The appropriate amount for any handshake, yes. "Aye, you're right. Can't put a price on life I suppose." He says with a small, and somewhat relieved sigh. The warlock plucks out another piece of fruit, a peace this time and bites into it, his first real sustenance in a few hours. "That's all I had for you, Captain. Unless you had some questions of your own."

"Na, not yet, though I'm sure the Duchess an Harbormistress will. Enjoy the fruit. Send ta me again if ya need anythin'. And uh..." he gestures to the fruit bag. "Want me ta send up summor food?"

Nallaen shakes his head, sending his tangle of grey hair swishing from side to side. "No, this should fine, thanks." He says, flipping open his notebook again and marking something down. "If you do inform them of the progress, please make them aware that they will have a demonstration sometime later in the week. After a few days worth of sleep."

"Aye. I'll do that. Enjoy yer sleep." With those few words, Daniel simply turns and walks out,  planning on crawling back into bed with Sabine and sleep some more.

[katsbarrells]

That I Would Be Good

(4/?)

Part I | Part II | Part III

Read on AO3.

Teaser: Nicole Haught could count on one hand the number of times she’d stared down the barrel of a gun. In fact, two of the five times had occurred the same night, in the same room, within the same ten minutes, with the eldest Earp standing on the other end of the barrel. Each time, she’d managed to walk away unscathed…every time – except for this one.

Nicole stood with her feet affixed to the sides of a treadmill that should have gone into retirement at least five years ago. Her hands were wrapped loosely around the lateral bar in front of her as she stared at her own reflection in the mirror. Nearly a dozen moon-shaped electrodes had been strategically placed on her chest and torso, all laid out to map her cardiac function. Her hair was tied up in a high pony tail, torso exposed with the exception of a plum colored sports bra. It had been the only one she could find on such short notice. Waverly had kept a lot of her clothing as relics, but they were mostly sweaters and old college t-shirts. The less sentimental items had been put into storage, or had been left sitting for so long that they took on an insufferable musty aroma. Deep down, she knew full well that the color of her sports bra didn’t exactly deserve such scrutiny – but she had to focus on something, anything other than the gaze of the stranger staring back at her in the mirror. The body she occupied no longer felt like home.

“Are you ready?” Dolls tenderly interrupted Nicole’s introspective examination of her physical identity.

Nicole blinked slowly in attempt to pull herself from her own mind and looked around the small exam room that Dolls had managed to “borrow”. Her eyes briefly caught Waverly’s before moving on to Doc, and finally Wynonna.

“Full house today,” she huffed. “Yeah. I’m ready. Let’s do this.”

“You can do it,” Waverly murmured under her breath. Nicole could hear it clear as day.

Dolls nodded and pushed the start button on the treadmill, slowly bumping the speed up to a breezy 1.7 miles per hour. “Just a quick warm up,” he offered. “…and loosen your grip. It could interfere with the reading.”

Nicole obliged, walking excruciatingly slow for three minutes. Dolls bumped up the speed and incline ever so slightly and she continued with her stationary hike until Dolls increased the levels once again.

“An average human should be reaching about 85% of their predicted heart rate at this stage. Yours hasn’t budged at all from your resting heart rate. How do you feel?”

Nicole shrugged. “Fine.”

With a nod of approval, Dolls increased the speed and incline once again. Nicole’s legs pumped a little faster, but her breathing remained even. The former deputy adapted quickly, though her EKG gave no indication of cardiac distress.

“We’re going to go through one more stage before we try something different, Haught.” His tone was cool, even – though his own confusion was palpable. Even he broke a sweat during exercise.

“Do what you need to do.”

“Be careful,” Waverly pleaded. Wynonna rolled her eyes in response. Doc remained quiet, an unlit hand-rolled cigarette hanging out of his mouth.

Without another word, Dolls cranked up the incline to 50% and increased the speed to 10 miles per hour. Nicole broke out into a run. After a few moments, she began breathing heavily, though sweat was yet to dampen her skin. The hum and buzz of the treadmill’s failing motor filled the room until Nicole slammed her hand on the stop button, startling the room’s other occupants.

“This isn’t doing anything other than reminding me that I forgot to eat dinner last night…and breakfast this morning.”

“It’s telling me that I need to work on my cardio,” Wynonna quipped, elbowing Waverly in the ribs for some validation of her humor.

“Actually,” Dolls paused. “It’s telling us that you have cardiovascular capabilities far beyond that of any human. Even now, you’re not breathing heavily. No cramps. No light headedness.”

Nicole nodded along with Dolls’ observations, ripping the electrodes from her skin and plopping down in a chair. “What’s next? You need to find out what I am so you can decide if Wynonna will have to kill me, right?”

Everyone in the room gasped at the uncharacteristic harshness of Nicole’s delivery. Nicole herself was taken aback by the brutality of her statement, and looked down at the floor, somewhat ashamed. “Sorry.” Her eyes moved up to meet Waverly’s, who’s eyes were already glassy at Nicole’s proposition.

“No. You’re right, Haught. We need to find out what you are. And you’re not going to like the next test.”

*****

“Is all of this really necessary?” Waverly asked, worry constricting her vocal chords until they elevated the pitch of her voice twofold.

“Yes.” Dolls grunted, strapping Nicole down to the medical facility’s bastardization of a bed.  

Waverly’s anxiety levels were rising, her usual flightiness only amplified by the situation at hand. She quickly bound across the small room to grab Nicole’s hand. Nicole squeezed it back after ten long seconds of hesitation.

“It’s okay, Waves.”

“I know you think this is cruel,” Dolls confessed. “I’m not trying to be. This is what we need to do.”

Wynonna had left the room to tend to some other Revenant-related business, but Doc still observed from the corner, stepping out to the center of the room. “Agent Dolls…if I may,” he drawled. “What young Waverly here fails to see is the necessity of what you’re about to put Ms. Haught through.”

“You guys can stop talking about me like I’m not here strapped to a table.”

Doc tipped his hat in apology and continued. “With any creature, supernatural or of this world there are only two ways to see what it’s made of. One is through its head and the other is through its heart. The heart usually heals faster than the head – at least in these kinds of unconventional circumstances.”

Waverly squeezed Nicole’s hand just a little tighter, before letting it go and stepping away from the other woman. “Will you stop if it gets to be too much?” Her eyes widened as she looked at Dolls, who nodded slowly.

“I will.”

Nicole’s body went rigid as she watched Dolls cross the room to grab the defibrillator. Her hands balled into tight, shaking fists. For the first time all day, she felt her heart begin to race. She was acutely aware of the blood that circulated through her veins, the pulsing so loud that it dampened the voices of her companions.

By the time Dolls had resumed his position at her side, Nicole had regained control of her body and managed to cease her shaking before anyone noticed. In hell, fear is the easiest thing to swallow.

Her eyes met Dolls’. There was a sadness in his eyes, but it was eclipsed by his need for answers, his methodical approach to everything he did. She understood his plight. Nicole watched in silence as he gently placed the two large electrode pads on her exposed skin, staggered on her chest for maximum efficacy.

“You’re not wearing an underwire, are you?”

Nicole shook her head.

“Good. Are you ready?”

“No. But do it anyway.”

The Deputy Marshal took a step back and turned a dial on the defibrillator machine. Pumping it up to 200J, he promptly pushed the charge button. After a few seconds he announced, “Stand back,” and pushed the button again. Controlled lightning shot through Nicole Haught’s chest, her body jolting upward from the shock. Gasping for air, she fell back into the table, heaving, coughing; but showing no signs of supernatural influence. Dolls pushed the charge button again. Nicole’s head snapped back, a low growl stirring in the back of her throat.

Waverly took a step forward. “Dolls, this is too much. You’re going to hurt her!”

Dolls made a snap judgment. He was close to calling forth whatever it was that now lived inside Nicole Haught’s body. He could feel it. He could smell it. He pushed the charge button again. Nicole’s body jerked, snapping one of the straps that held her to the table. Doc took a step forward to help restrain her, but Dolls yelled out in protest.

“Do not touch her!”

Another high voltage shock to the system.

That was all she needed.

Nicole’s eyes shot open, embers glowing deep within the irises. Her mouth opened as though she were gasping for air, guttural snarls passing through her lips. Her hands, still balled into fists were dyed crimson with her own dripping blood.

“Please stop!” Waverly shouted.

This time, Dolls listened.

The former deputy expelled any excess energy that had accumulated from the shocks. Her eyes snapped shut, body falling limp. Her hands opened as she slipped into an ethereal state of unconsciousness. As her hands relaxed even further, Doc cocked his head to take a closer look. Her fingers and nails had elongated, sharpened like razor blades. The gashes they had left across her palms were already closing, drying blood the only evidence of her pain.

“Well I’ll be damned.” Doc mumbled.

“What?” Dolls and Waverly asked in unison.

Doc ignored them and stepped towards Nicole. He reached out and picked up one of her hands, examining the nails and joint position of each digit. “How the hell did you pull this one off, Haught?”

After a moment he set her hand down and reached into his pocket, fishing for his matchbook.

Waverly and Dolls stared at Doc is disbelief, one too distraught from the events that had transpired, and the other too perplexed to properly analyze the situation.

“Well?!” Waverly probed. Doc opened up his matchbook, pulling out a small firestarter and swiping it to the point of combustion. He slowly raised it to the unlit-cigarette he had been nursing, and lit it up. He took a long, slow drag. Shaking his head, he blew out a cloud of smoke right over Nicole’s face.

“I know what she is…and you’re not going to want to be here when she wakes up.”