#still under construction because i can't help myself but

[drdemonprince]

two separate people have now told me that my boss is trying to get me to quit my job. apparently I'm supposed to pick up on the hints and go away. the hints: tasks that she used to push entirely onto me because she didn't want to do them, she's now seriously restricting my access to because I'm "not good at them." after three years of my solely handling them and going through the whole process of getting better at them and consistently improving. she's also reduced my hours a lot.

the thing is, this is my second job, and I've responded by increasing the hours at my primary job, so this isn't impacting my income at all. I'm just really sad about it, because I like this job, and the closest other place I could go to work in this specific roll is an hour away. I also want to have this particular job title on my resume for the longest possible stretch of time I can manage, because it'll help me later in the specific field that I work in. so...my inclination here is to just not quit. but I was also taking her at face value that she was just erroneously under the impression I'd spontaneously become bad at my tasks, until it was explained to me. so my take may not be correct.

thoughts?

Hi! Yes, what you are experiencing is called Constructive Dismissal, and it is a tactic employers use to try and force employees to quit by removing job tasks from their plate.

It is quite common for disabled employees in particular to be constructively dismissed. Most people find it so painful and threatening to have little to do, apparently, that it affects their self-esteem and gives them anxiety and makes them quit. I call it a free pay day!

Don't let them manipulate you. Don't read in between the lines. Use this to your advantage. Collect the paycheck, do as little as is now asked of you, and project an oblivious, neutrally positive quality. If they want to fire you or fuck with you, they will have to have the nards to do it explicitly. Many companies won't.

I was constructively dismissed at my current job in the first month! I am still here five years later because I just... kept showing up and kept myself busy with my own projects. I figured if they don't want to give me work to do, I can't argue with that! Turns out a lot of places will eventually kinda forget you exist which can be a good thing. Check out the r/Overemployed subreddit to read the stories of many people who take advantage of situations like these to collect two, three, sometimes four paychecks from shitty fake jobs at a time.

[guppygiggles]

Short hurt/comfort fic below. Lots of angst and crying, cheer-up tickles, ler!Avery, a ton of teasing, and even some fourth-wall-breaking? Very personal, and a bit weird, but.. it was meant to be cathartic and I do feel better, so I think that's good enough right now. 💙

“Avery… What am I doing here?” 

I was seated on an old, green corduroy couch, which I instantly recognized as the first couch I’d ever bought. How he'd managed to get it here – wherever here was – baffled me; it had been years since I donated that ratty thing to Goodwill. 

Apart from myself, the couch, Avery, and the armchair he was seated in, everything as far as I could see was white, even the floor. I was reminded of “The Construct” scene from The Matrix. 

“You're always here… this is your mind. I merely constructed this space so that we could talk,” he explained. 

“Uhm, okay… Suspending my disbelief, for a moment… What do you want to talk about?” 

Avery's long legs were crossed, his arms folded over his chest. He did not look happy, but despite his stern expression, I couldn't help but admire him; clad in a lavender button down and khaki pants, he looked as soft and sweet as cotton candy. 

“I hear you, you know… all these self deprecating thoughts you have.” 

I fidgeted, already getting an inkling of where this was going. I studied the featureless white floor, lips pursed.

Avery continued, “I try not to invade your privacy by listening, but… I live here, and you can be quite loud. Generally, you make me proud by quieting those criticisms… But, sometimes, you indulge thoughts I cannot abide. I think you know what I'm referring to, don't you?” 

I didn't meet Avery's gaze. 

“Casper? Shall I repeat it?” 

I whimpered, my head snapping forward. 

“No! No, please don't.”

“Why not? Is it because you don't want your friends to read the absolutely ridiculous thought you had about your art, because you already know what they'd say?” 

I tried to resist it, but a warm flush colored my cheeks. I looked away from him, again. 

Avery sighed, shook his head, and smiled in exasperation. 

“Alright, dewdrop. If you won't talk to me, let's have it out.” He stood, rolling up his sleeves. 

“N-No, I just… I can't!” I squeaked, hiding my face in my hands. “I can't talk about it, I just… Nobody understands. I just try so hard, and…” I was starting to choke up. My brow furrowed in frustration – why did he have to put me through this? 

“Now, you know that's not true. You think you're the only artist who has ever struggled? Come, now.” 

“I’m just so late to the game… And, I should be further along than this. I've been drawing for six months now, and I still can't get proportions right… I still can't draw with depth… I still can't shade… My friends deserve better than what I can make… ”

I felt the couch move beside me, and then two huge arms encircled my body. I leaned weakly into his chest, his skin providing cool relief for my emotional flush. He was as soft as ever.

“Casper… You can't hang your self worth on the opinions of others. I know you love your friends – and, for the record, they obviously love your art – but you can't allow what anyone else thinks to determine whether you continue this journey or not.” 

He shifted, crooking a finger under my chin and tilting my head up. Two hot tears streamed down my face as I stared into his clear, gentle eyes. 

“I've heard you say these words, yourself: ‘You do not need to create to be worthy of love’. Why don't you believe that, when it's you? Why do you think other people inherently deserve kindness, patience, and love, but that you have to earn it?”

He studied my face as I tried, and failed, to control my sobbing. An answer was shared wordlessly through a series of mental images – we did inhabit the same mind, after all. 

“Oh, Casper…” He tugged my trembling body into his huge embrace once again. “I know, I know… It's okay.” 

“I'm trying,” I sniffled. 

“You’ve come so far, dewdrop… You've wanted this for so long. I've seen the joy that art brings you, and I’ll be damned if I'm going to let you lose one more thing that’s precious to you. Not if I can help it.”

“Avery,” I looked up at him, slowly, a puzzled expression on my tear-stained face, “did you just swear?”

He grinned. “Did I finally get your attention, then?” 

I turned my head into his arm, concealing my reaction. 

“Ah, ah! Don't you dare hide that smile I just worked so hard for…” 

He tried to tilt my head back up, but I turned away swiftly, shifting to face away from him. 

I heard a snicker from behind me. 

“Wrong move.” 

I gasped, leaping from the couch and breaking into a sprint. The boundless white space was so vast, I felt as though I could run forever; like I was a little kid again, energy nigh infinite, chasing a soccer ball on the playground field of my youth. 

When was the last time I had run like this? 

As my imagination blossomed, the space around me began to transform. Placid white ceiling became sunny sky, painted delicately with rolling cumulus clouds. Soft grass pushed up through the sterile floor until my pounding footsteps became muffled thuds, yellow woodsorrel sprouting like jewels in a sea of green. Warm sunshine told me it was spring, but the breeze whistled cool against my skin, quickly drying the tears from my face and clothes. 

I stood no chance of resisting; my weak smile broke into a huge grin, and finally a giggly laugh. 

Outrunning Avery, I knew, was a pipe dream… but I'd run for longer than I expected. Did I dare glance backwards…?

No sooner had the thought entered my mind than my ankles were ensnared by an unseen force. I yelped, eyes squeezing closed as I threw my hands out to brace my fall into the grass. I landed in something much softer. I opened my eyes. A beanbag? I rolled over. 

Avery was standing over me, grinning with delight. He didn't look even the least bit winded, that cheeky shit. I could see now that my ankles were wrapped in a boa of clouds. 

“Well, aren't you proud of yourself,” I quipped, a giggle rendering my sarcasm toothless. 

Avery made a gesture with his hand, and I jumped as a large shade tree appeared over us. “Hey! Jesus, warn me first… How did you even do that? How do you keep making things appear like that?” I was only delaying the inevitable. I shuffled my feet, but there was no breaking free from Avery's cloud cuff. 

“You can do it, too,” he replied, taking a seat in the grass as he began to unlance my Vans, “you made this entire field appear, just now – not even I can conjure something that big. That's the thing, Casper… You can't help but create, even when you're not trying to. It just pours out of you, which is why it's simply ridiculous that you'd give credence to a thought like ‘giving up on art’. Come on, now. Do you really think you could do that? Do you really think it would be fair to relinquish such a special and integral part of you?” 

I looked away, sheepishly. Avery continued. 

“I think we need to do some positive affirmations.” He set my shoes aside, and then unceremoniously pulled off each of my socks, stuffing them into my shoes. 

“Avery! Can't we talk about this?” I whined. The gentle breeze caressed the soft undersides of my bare feet, causing my toes to twitch. I took a deep breath, trying to keep from blushing. 

“I have been trying to talk about this! You are the one who keeps clamming up when I try to get you to come around. I think some gentle persuasion is in order, at this point.” He winked, wiggling his fingers in my direction. My stomach filled with butterflies; there was no stopping my blush, now. I shifted on the beanbag, but Avery's hands clasped my legs, keeping me still. 

“Ah, ah! You stay right there. I was kind enough to only bind your ankles, but we'll go for more, if you fight me.” 

I sunk back into the beanbag, folding my arms across my chest in a flustered pout. I avoided Avery's gaze. 

“Now, then… Let's start with this. I want you to say ‘I am a good artist’.” 

“I'm not going to say something I don't believe is true!” I bit, curling my toes in defiance. 

“Double nickels on my dime… Very well. Let's see if a little tickling can change your tune, hm?” With that, Avery’s plush fingertips began moving in an undulating ‘come hither’ motion along the soles of my feet. 

My face scrunched as I worked to resist it, squirming in the beanbag as I clamped my lips together, my trapped feet wriggling as much as their restraints allowed. 

“Oh, Casper, come on. Are you really going to make me be mean? Do I need to break out my worst teases already?”

Avery changed his tactic, abandoning my left foot so that he could hold my right toes back, using his free hand to scribble quickly along the sole. 

A surprised squeak turned into a series of titters that leaked from my sealed lips, and I covered my face with my hands. 

“Arrgh… A-Avery… C-come ohohohon!” 

I gasped as I felt my wrists captured by soft cuffs, which pulled my hands down and placed them neatly in my lap. He really was going to be mean about this!

“Say it, Casper… or else.” 

I stole a glance down at him – I might as well, since he wasn't going to let me cover my face, anyway – just to see him smirking challengingly up at me, his face a mask of determination. 

“God dahaahahahamn yohohohou!” I cried, my suppressed tittering breaking into a steady stream of helpless giggles. 

“Casper! Is that any way to speak to me? Alright, then… You asked for it. Coochie coochie coo~” he teased. “Awww, does someone have ticklish feet? I think they doooo~” Avery swished his hand again, conjuring a pair of ghost hands to hold each set of my toes back, while he tickled and scritched merrily along both of my soles. 

I squealed in frustration as I felt my blush immediately spread to my ears. He was really pulling out all the stops for this… How long could I resist, realistically? Perhaps it would be easier to give him an inch… Maybe he'd be satisfied, then? My brain was already growing fuzzy from his teasing. 

“Fihine! I'm a goohoohohood artihihist!” I laughed, arching my back as I endured the torturously gentle tickling. 

Avery stopped, grinning triumphantly. 

“There, now! Was that so hard? Let's move onto the next one!”

“Next one!? Oh, hell no! I am not doing any more of these!” 

My eyes widened as, in an instant, Avery was on top of me. He straddled my hips, lifting my restrained wrists over my head and invisibly pinning them there. Then he took my chin in his hand, forcing me to look into his fierce eyes. A chill ran down my spine as I felt his unwavering resolve.

“We're going to do as many as it takes for you to show yourself the same care that you show others. We're going to do these until you believe in yourself and your art. I have to live in your head, and I do not want to live in a place where I have to hear negative things like this said about my fellow. Am I making myself clear?”

I swallowed hard, but somehow, still mustered the nerve to argue. 

“Please, Avery…” 

“The next thing I want you to say is ‘I am worthy of love and friendship’, and when you say it, I want you to know that it includes when you're not doing things for other people. Not helping them, not creating for them, none of it. You are worthy just on your own, just for being you.”

“I can't…” 

Avery lifted his hands to my armpits, hovering mere inches from my short-sleeve t-shirt. 

“I know how you feel about being tickled here, and if you don't say it, right now, I'm going to tease you within an inch of your life until you do.” His eyes were ever kind, but they were serious, too. 

I whimpered, clicking my teeth together. There was no hiding in this position… All I could do was close my eyes, so I did. Feelings of disappointment, inadequacy, and loneliness washed over me. Could I ever really measure up to those I respected? Me, a person so damaged, and so many years behind? Could I really expect anyone to care about me when I wasn't doing something to make myself useful to them, or to make them happy? 

“Casper, look at me.” 

I complied, frowning. 

“If anyone else asked you these questions, what would you say? Would you really tell someone they're too late to be good at something? Would you look someone in the eye and tell them that they only have worth when they're doing something for you?” 

“No…” 

“Of course not. You deserve that compassion, too. Now, I want you to prove that you believe that. Say it for me, dewdrop.” 

“I… am worthy…” 

“Of…?” 

“...” 

“Come on, you're so close…”

“...” 

“I'll make you sing, then. Tickle, tickle, tickle! Coochie coochie coooo~! Awww, poor ticklish boy… Are you ticklish under your arms, right here? Let's see!” 

I had no strength left to resist – as Avery lowered his whirling fingertips to my pits, I howled with laughter, my blush flooding all over my face and neck. My hands twisted uselessly in their bonds as I squirmed beneath him, my heart fluttering as he gently tickled over my thin shirt. 

“AHAHAHAHhahavery! Plehehehehease NOHOHOT THEHEHEHERE!!” 

“I've given you plenty of warnings, I've been patient… now the kid gloves are off. Say it, Casper. Say it!” 

“I’M WOHOHORTHY OF LOHOHOVE!” 

“And…?” He slipped his fingers into the sleeves of my shirt, gently scribbling my bare underarms. 

My stomach did somersaults as I squealed with laughter so forceful, I could barely get the words out. 

“AHAHAHAND FRIENDSHIHIHIP!” 

“There we gooo~! Ohh, I am so proud…” He finally relented, wrapping his arms around my torso and pulling me into his softness. 

My cuffs dissipated, and I instantly wrapped my arms and legs around him, clutching him to me as I buried my face in his shoulder. He stroked my shock of blue hair, comforting me as I caught my breath. 

A warmth spread through my chest – while it certainly wasn't a cure-all, I had to admit… I did feel better. Perhaps some of the affirmations really did seep in, at least a bit. 

“I won't make you say any more, today… I think you've had enough. But we will be repeating this exercise, if I start hearing all that unkind self-talk again. Clear?” 

“Crystal,” I whispered after a moment, leaning my cheek against his cloudy head. 

[desceros]

Hi, you probably don't remember me, but I'm the 🪻 anon that sent asks once or twice. Still very much a nervous fan! Your work and the way you write about your experiences and feelings still positively stun me every time I read your posts.

I've been thinking about writing for the tmnt and rottmnt universes for a while now, but I'm still very uncertain about my own interpretation of these characters. If it isn't too much to ask, I'd like to know how you do it??

Your work has such fluidity and... sense?? I don't really quite know how to put it into words, but it inspires me very much! Anyway, I guess I'm asking for writing tips?? I know each interpretation is unique and our own, but I can't help but adore yours! I hope you're having a good day/night, Ms. Desceros!

Ps: English is not my first language, so sorry if my rambling aren't really coherent. (〒 u 〒⁠)

– 🪻

i do very much remember! and i'm so sorry i had this sitting in my inbox for forever and a day lmfaoooo i didn't want to rush the answer and instead give it proper thought/answer for you! :D

so it sounds like you're asking two different things here, which is 1) how do i establish strong characters, and 2) how do i construct flow in a fic.

characterization

for characters, it starts pretty simply with just consuming a lot of the character. for example, with the turtles, i've watched rise and bayverse both a lot. like, a lot a lot. enough that i can hear their voices in my head when i'm writing, because i've heard them so much.

specifically, i've watched it not just casually, but also with the ears of a writer. what words do each of the turtles use? how do they phrase things? when one of them gets annoyed, how does he communicate it? when they're scared, what do they say? how do they move their bodies? what do they do in the background of scenes where they aren't the focus?

once you feel like you kind of know the answers to those questions, the next step is just to write! i probably have about... hm... 30-50k of fic in my icloud that i wrote before i started posting things. the purpose of it was just to figure out how i liked the turtles to sound. because i write them as older adults, they sound just a little different than they do in the show. i inject my headcanons into their voices. these things change how they act, and i fiddled with it until i was happy with it. knowing i wasn't going to publish these made it really easy for me to get creative and push things, until i found the boundaries that i like and that feel good for me.

flow

so good flow is something that really comes with a lot of experience writing. it's one of those things you... pick up as you write a lot, so this part is going to be a bit more. hm. disconnected. nuanced. how you like things paced, how things feel good under your fingers; these are things you'll get better at as you go on. that said, it's something i've very consciously worked on myself, so i do have a few tips for you that'll hopefully speed up that process for you!

my biggest tip is to READ. find authors (fiction and fanfiction!) you like, and READ them. but again, we're not doing it recreationally, we're doing it as a writer.

read your favorite authors and think. think about the things they include and what they don't. what information do they convey in great detail? what information do they convey in exposition? what information do they leave for you to garner on your own? why do you like how they include things? why do you like what they don't? do you miss certain things? do you wish they wouldn't bother with others?

for example, i really love brining in the emotions of a scene. how something makes a character feel. basking in that is something i really love reading, so i have a lot of it in my writing. and i enjoy doing it without Telling you how someone feels. i don't say "donnie is sad." i tell you how his shoulders slump. how he gazes off to the side with a listless expression. how his eyes cloud over with uncertainty. these are things i've enjoyed reading, and so i've incorporated into my writing. i will slow down the flow of my fic, putting a bit of rubato on these moments, because i like how it feels.

i personally enjoy things to be very fluid, connecting from one scene to the next with as little a break as possible. think of french vs english. french is very fluid, english is very percussive. they're both languages, both good, they just sound different to the ear. part of constructing that, for me, means i write from beginning to end without skipping around. it's a style that has its pros and cons, but it allows me to have a single thread, unbroken, though the entire work.

ultimately, your writing is a stained glass of everything you love. the words you think are pretty, the turns of phrase that catch your eye, the verbs that bring action to life. this is the foundation of what people will call your "voice," and a large part of that is your flow, or pacing. i can't really... tell you how to create your stained glass. but this is how you can create your own, and make it something you find beautiful.

[halfmoth-halfman]

y'all know what time it is! it's monthly fic rec time!!!

i decided to move this to the first so i wouldn't miss any fics that might be posted on the last day of each month!!

& a small, kinda sad update:

usually this is where i'd link to my fic-recs blog, but i hit the character limit on my filter page where i have my recs organized and when i made a new page it saved over the first one.

all of my filters and recs on that page are now gone and have to be manually re-done. you can still find my recs by scrolling through the blog, but the filter page is going to be under construction until i can get everything fixed and re-added!!

Alex Keller

❀ click click boom - @writeforfandoms

i don't see a lot of alex fics, so this was already a fav as soon as i saw it, but then i read it and ???? hello???? this was so good??? the characterization of alex alone was amazing, and the rest was like the cherry on top!!

❀ convallaria majalis - @nightingale-ghost-writer

19.2k words of absolute perfection. a fic i have been looking forward to and now that it's out, i just can't get enough of it! did i have to take breaks while reading so i could twirl my hair and kick my feet? yes. was it worth every second? yes.

Arthur Morgan

❀ the fire in your eyes || part VII: horseshoe overlook iii | part VIII: horseshoe overlook iv | part IX: horseshoe overlook v - @cowboydisaster

if there's one character i love more than anything in the world, it's arthur morgan and this series has only made my love for him that much stronger. so beautifully written, i couldn't stop reading-the whole time with a smile on my face. the entire bar scene in part vii??? i was crying with laughter. this is def one of my fav series i've ever read and i am on the edge of my seat waiting for more!

Carlos Oliveira

❀ the way we let it stay - @uselsshuman

this is a fair warning right now that most of the resident evil fics on this list are going to be from em. she has single-handedly ignited my hyperfixation for RE and all of her fics are incredible. including this one!

❀ old wounds new loves - @uselsshuman

i love little cute domestic fics, and carlos is so real for not liking cereal. “Waking up and eating a bowl of cold soggy food? No, thank you.” i feel that on such a spiritual level. also protective!carlos is just the best!!

Javier Peña

❀ arepas - @mvtthewmurdvck

i know i already went feral over this fic, but i'm going to do it again because i love this fic so goddamn much!! this fic is incredible, the way everything feels so natural between javi and reader, the teasing, the friends to lovers trope, everything about this is just so beautiful!!

❀ a broken sight - @mvtthewmurdvck

i don't understand how you can write a character so perfectly. i will never not be amazed by the way you write javi. and the angst??? ugh "He’s here. Like you needed him to be." don't mind the noise that's just me sobbing in the corner.

❀ the dreams we made - @mvtthewmurdvck

there's nothing like a good ol' helping of jo angst. this hurt in all the right ways, completely ripped my heart out and shattered it only to put all the pieces back together again and fill the cracks in with gold.

❀ nowhere to run || file room + accusations | sunshine yellow | a new day - @mvtthewmurdvck

the series that got me into narcos, i actually started watching the show just so i could read the perfection that is this series!! am i potentially spoiling things for myself a little bit? yes, but it's absolutely worth it because this series has me by the throat.

Joel Miller

❀ want. - @mvtthewmurdvck

literal poetry best described by this gif:

John "Soap" MacTavish

❀ none lacking sins - @halcyone-of-the-sea

listen, i like soap. he's not my fav, but he's a really good character. this fic though? it's moved soap up to my top five favorite characters. this made me want to read nothing but soap. i must've read this a dozen times, i was immediately sent into a soap hyperfixation. every aspect of this fic is just amazing. stunning. perfect.

❀ the hanging tree - @writeforfandoms

had me on the edge of my damn seat trying to figure out what was going. the worry and the tension built up so wonderfully i was dying to know what was about to happen and omg i was not disappointed. and the way jen writes soap is just *chef's kiss*

❀ i will wait - @mvtthewmurdvck

this fic had me realize how much i crave soft!soap and just fluff with soap in general. the tender moments warm my heart up something fierce and make me all giddy. like waking up to the perfect sunrise.

John Price

❀ puppy love || one | two | three | four - @writeforfandoms

puppies and price? what more could someone ask for? these two are so cute together and with the added cuteness of the puppies (and gaz lol) it's just an overload of cuteness in the best possible way!

❀ scratches in the surface - @halcyone-of-the-sea

was not expecting a part two to one of my favorite price fics, but damn if this wasn't a fantastic surprise. the angst is top-tier here and as much as it hurt, i couldn't stop reading and will probably read it again a million more times.

❀ neon medusa || part 1: static in the airways | part 2: warning signs - @yeyinde

CYBERPUNK!AU????? WITH PRICE????? WRITTEN BY YEYINDE???? SIGN ME TF UP!!! i am feral, consumed by how excited i am for this series and how utterly fantastic it's been so far. i will never get tired of lev's fics, and how gorgeous her writing is.

❀ untitled - @lunarvicar

okay this was adorable. the way price drops everything to get to her apartment, immediately ready to protect her is just sooo perfect. and her being freaked out by ghost adventures?? asdasljlsjd relatable.

❀ untitled - @yeyinde

i live for domestic bliss, and this fic just scratched that itch so well. there's something so comforting and homey about this fic, just the quiet intimacy between price and reader, the cute back and forth, this line: “Gaz said I looked like an Edwardian lord—” an absolute comfort fic if i've ever read one.

❀ comforts of home - @halcyone-of-the-sea

this fic had me weak, literally struggling to read cause i was too busy looking like this at my phone

❀ barking dog - @yeyinde

jealous!price is not something i see often, but damn if i don't want to see more of it after reading this. i am obsessed with the way lev writes price, how real and natural and captivating he is in her fics.

❀ wicked pyre - @yeyinde

you can't just give me dragon!price and expect me not to love it. i am so feral for monster!au's and this is saldkjaslda i can't be normal after reading this, i am feral, so enraptured by this fic and the entire concept of dragon!price.

❀ origami boats - @halcyone-of-the-sea

a sequel to the best price fic of all time???? say less. this fic was in my top three before i even started reading, i just knew it was going to be good. well, it wasn't just good, it was great. stunning. heart-breaking in a way that gives you the best kind of hurt.

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

❀ high hopes - @writeforfandoms

gaz my sweet mans. as one of my favorite characters, i tend to be picky with my gaz fics, but this fic right here? loved it. adored it. read it six times with a bigger smile on my face each time.

❀ cult of vagabonds || prologue | landless gull | snail & thrush - @halcyone-of-the-sea

not only is this a gaz series, but it's one written by halcyone who can never write a bad fic. this is immaculate. i can't even describe how much i love this series so far and how much i can't wait to see where it goes!

❀ boom - @sleepiexx

ok but like this was so good?? the tension, the desperation, the way gaz was so ready to die with her. i'm shook. and that ending???? i’m giggling, i’m blushing, i’m re-reading this fic a million more times.

Leon Kennedy

❀ leon kennedy masterlist - @uselsshuman

i'm gonna be real here for a second, this entire section was 99% made up of em's leon fics. i couldn't choose which ones to add, which ones were my favorite, because i loved them all. so i'm just putting a link to her leon masterlist, because every single one of those fics deserves to be seen and read and given all of the love that they deserve.

❀ enough || one | two | three | final - @uhlunaro

i have one word for this series: wow. just wow. i have never been more thankful to find a series after it was already done because i would've gone crazy waiting to see what happened next! which part was my favorite? all of them. every single one. the hurt, the dialogue, just the way leon is written. i'm speechless.

Simon "Ghost" Riley

❀ exit row || exit row, part iii | exit row, part iv- @lunarvicar

the phrase "post-dick flashback" will live rent free in my head until the day i die, i was wheezing. i'm convinced there isn't a character nat can't make me love, because her portrayal of ghost here?? 🔥🔥🔥

❀ happiness || diamond ring | fearless | - @lethalchiralium

more of my favorite family man!simon series!!!!!! yesssss!!!!! i swear with every new addition, i just love this series more and more. i am so stressed reading it, but i love every second of it.

❀ the effect you have - @mvtthewmurdvck

screaming, crying, throwing up. how do you do it, jo? how do manage to make me hurt and heal my heart so beautifully in every single fic? how dare you, but also thank you so much.

❀ the captain || part 6 | part 7 | thunder - @as-is-above-so-below

omg i can't. y'all can't just keep giving a+ quality family man!ghost fics and expect me to be normal. you can't just give me cute shit like:

“Gaz frug.”

and not expect me to be like:

also, i am absolutely in love with freyja. the way her relationship is written with ghost and the kids is so lovely and has me kicking my feet and twirling my hair.

❀ ghost at the beginning of your relationship - @angelltheninth

cute. adorable. sweet. i love me some good fluff and even more so soft!ghost and this was the perfect combination of both of them! and simon having "guard dog energy" is so funny and so correct.

❀ ménage || refuge | resolution - @lilywastaken

my new go-to for simon fics. the relationship between simon and reader and between simon and the 141 are both so great. and oh my god that wild ride of emotions i went during part five had me stressed tf out i couldn't stop reading! such a great and fun series.

❀ making progress - @constantcrisis19

"dragged into the CoD fandom kicking and screaming" and still delivering an absolutely amazing fic. the teasing, the small talk, the faint smile?? incredible. the entire conversation about powerful music?? fantastic.

[milekael]

TEEHEE tagged by @rizaposting to do this >:3c

are you named after anyone?

I named myself 😎 The name Miles came from Miles Edgeworth LOL Me and an (ex)friend really liked Ace Attorney and the joke is that I was Miles and they were Franziska, and because at that point I was looking for a name it worked nicely!

However with time I really didn't want my name super directly attached to anyone, thats when I figured Mikael out as like "A longer version of Miles" and to be my name name SDFGHJ

I still use Miles a lot and like Ace Attorney btw! if anything, lately I been using Miles online more than my name for the sake of not putting my full name on the interwebs lol

when was the last time you cried?

Help 0 idea. I used to cry a lot as a kid and now for some reason is really hard for me to do it dfghj not even as some kind of psychological hang-up or anything I just can't really do it.

do you have kids?

Noup

do you use sarcasm a lot?

Kinda? Normally just with people I am close to because if its with anyone else I worry it might be misunderstood.

what sports do you play?

I don't play sports but I do really like doing physical work! I used to do a lot of construction work like building frames when I was at college.

what’s the first thing you notice about people?

A weird way to say it but I like to see people's "character design" LOL as in... I do perceive people very based on "If they were a character, what does their design tell me about their personality" kind of deal dfghj

what’s your eye color?

Grey-ish blue. Dark blue?

scary movies or happy endings?

help I am very VERY selective with the kinds of horrors I vibe with so really happy endings pretty much 97% of the time (Fear & Hunger is the 3% lol)

any special talents?

Huuh I know how to take machines apart! And how to build many many things out of trash. Also by taking machines apart sometimes you learn how to fix them, but I wouldn't trust myself to fix anything super important lol

where were you born?

Caracas, Venezuela! And I moved to the U.S (Sadly) in 2017.

what are your hobbies?

Help what do you do when your hobby is your job. I do a lot of the "ough I been drawing this thing for too long, I better take a break and draw this other thing" LOL but huuuh when I feel like doing something else I play videogames. Also I have gotten into online roleplaying again and I been starting to write fics, different from the things I usually have to write for work reasons so I count them.

do you have any pets?

The creachure The Beast Maki Roll. She is a cat.

how tall are you?

UUUH 5'3" or 5'4" I can't remember lol

favorite subject in school?

Saying art feels like a cope-out uuuh In Venezuelan highschool I really liked Literature and Biology was fun! And if we talk about college I didn't expect Sculpture to be my favorite but it was! And ofc I really liked Oil Painting (My concentration lol) and Illustration!

dream job?

OUGH I really want to work as an art curator in a museum :') or in general in a museum, put me to make an archive of historical stuff and I'll have a blast.

Another thing I would really like is working on set design! again I like physical work and traditional art so I would really enjoy it sdfgh Also also sdfgh my main goal is to make comics of my OCs lol but I don't... exactly want to work under an specific company (Maybe have a contract for publishing but my story wouldn't fully belong to them U know) so really my dream scenario is me working for some of the other stuff I want and also make comics on the side dfghj

SDFGH TAGGING HUUH @bolitamurcielago @seastawright @todd-machine and huuh @pixiunera sure why not!! (BTW don't feel preasured to do it I just threw you because friends beloveds <3 )

[outer-edges]

i haven't actually written the spiderman!ellie and retired vigilante!joel au but i cannot stop thinking about it. anyway i can't stop myself from going off about it so headcanons and stuff under the cut.

warning: i do go on for quite a bit because i'm unhinged and unable to stop myself.

joel was a vigilante back in the day, and he slowed down when sarah was born, but he didn't quit until after she died. in this universe, she still died on the night of his thirty sixth birthday, and she died during a shooting joel was present for but failed to stop. he carries that weight with him every day. he tried to keep going for a bit after that, but he stopped pulling his punches and went down a dark path. he fully quits when tommy stops talking to him.

in addition to the regular slew of nicknames he calls her, joel calls ellie 'webs' and 'webhead' and 'spidey' and any variant nickname because he's not calling a goddamn fourteen year old 'Spider-Woman'.

after crossing paths multiple times and much pestering from ellie, joel trains ellie in the way of the vigilante, and they have weekly training sessions that always end up with them getting some kind of takeout.

they set up their little vigilante HQ in the vacant loft apartment on the top floor of joel's building. it's been under construction the entire time joel has lived in the place, and the landlord has no plans to finish it because it'll fuck up his taxes. ellie lovingly dubs the place 'the web', but joel refuses to call it that.

joel is there to catch her whenever she falls and patches up her wounds. he goes way overboard with stocking up his first aid kit, making sure it's got everything he needs and then some, and even he takes emergency field medicine first aid classes at the local community college to make sure he knows everything he needs to know.

ellie hasn't ever had anyone there to support her like this before, and it takes her a while to get used to having someone around to help her bandage her wounds. at first, she often insists on taking care of them herself, but now she goes to him for even bruises, though all he can do is put some arnica cream on that and give her some chocolate pudding (it's good for the soul. and it's also one of her favorite comfort foods).

joel also brushes off his old sewing skills, and he helps ellie make her new costumes and repair old ones because he knows first hand how much of a beating those costumes take and how annoying it is to have to keep replacing them. joel never wore a proper costume himself, just a black mask covering the lower half of his face and black clothes with some lightweight body armor, but still knows the annoyance of it all.

ellie always tries to pick playfights with joel and tackles him out of nowhere but that old man is still quicker than she is and always manages to dodge. much to her annoyance.

in a similar vein, ellie always lightly bodychecks joel as a gentle way of being like 'hey! what's up!' and it's her way of hugging because she still isn't so great with physical affection outside of the softer moments. joel recognizes this and usually deigns to pat her on the head or something similar as a way of affection (though, that man does try to shower her with as much physical affection as possible without pushing any boundaries because he can see how bad the kid needs it, and it hurts his soul).

the first time ellie loses someone as spider-woman, she shows up at joel's in shambles, and he spends the whole night reassuring her that it isn't her fault and she can't save everyone. he tells her the same thing tess told him ages ago 'you save who you can save'. ellie ends up falling asleep curled against him that night.

whenever she's out of the costume, joel constantly forgets that ellie has powers, and it always scares the shit out of him to come home and find her lounging on the ceiling or something. also, he always tries to insist on carrying the heavy things around the house until she reminds him that she literally has fucking super strength, and he's got an old man back, so put the couch down, joel. she's got this.

ellie is actually really smart and goes to this fancy science boarding school—paid for by scholarship, of course. at the school, she's already studying with a concentration in aerospace engineering, and she's on track to go to college for the same thing. joel finds this out when they start watching star trek together and she starts adding all sorts of factoids and scientific corrections. he goes out and buys a book about space for dummies after that.

joel, always the worrier, gives her a tracker to put in her shoe and a bluetooth earbud for when she's out as Spider-Woman. The earbud is supposed to be for emergencies, but they end up on the phone for most of her time on patrols. they usually just sit in idle silence, but she will give him a play by play of what's going on and force him to listen to her ridiculous jokes.

also, added on to that, joel never goes to sleep until she's confirmed to be home safe and sound (home starts out as her dorm room, and it slowly becomes his shitty apartment).

it actually takes a little while for joel to find out ellie's identity, and it happens totally by accident. he's out at the store when he hears some fourteen year old little shit get into a very loud argument with the store clerk. then he realizes he recognizes that voice and it's his fourteen year old little shit. he ends up quickly paying the store clerk while profusely apologizing before promptly dragging ellie out of the store and scolding her the whole way.

after joel finds out ellie's identity, she starts to spend the nights at his apartments sometimes when she gets too lazy to go back to her dorm and/or she's had a rough night and doesn't want to be alone (though, she won't ever admit that second thing). as a result of this, joel clears out a couple drawers in his dresser for her and he buys a new mattress to stick in his empty second bedroom (it used to be tommy's room. but he moved out ages ago, and joel hasn't bothered to fill it). slowly, the room becomes ellie's as more of her stuff migrates over and she starts bringing new stuff in.

speaking of her new room, ellie is delighted to have a space that's totally hers, and she starts bringing in the weirdest souvenirs. currently, her collection includes a bent up street sign she accidentally ripped out of the ground during a fight, a handwritten recipe for cannolis an old lady gave her after ellie helped her find her lost bird, and a giant heirloom armoire that joel doesn't even want to know how she got in the apartment because it's too big to fit through any of the doors (later, he finds out she brought it in through the window, and he just mutters something about goddamn super strength).

cutting myself off here because goddamn this got long but i'm going insane over these two and this idea.

[theneighborhoodwatch]

Hi! Gonna start off and say that I love the work you're doing with the Welcome Home neocities website! It's perfectly stylized for the project/puppet show and I can see the work you're putting into it.

I'd love to learn how to make my own neocities website (for fun? For a personal project??), so I was wondering if you could provide some tips and/or pointers for a first-timer.

Thank you!

HAHA well first of all i'm flattered that someone would think i'm skilled enough to be giving pointers in the first place. i still consider myself a novice when it comes to web design (for example, if you're wondering why every page on welcome to welcome home has its own CSS, it's because CSS is Way harder for me to wrap my head around than HTML) so i can't give any Super advanced tips, but i can at least write about what's helped me so far:

GUIDES. neocities has its own tutorial and list of HTML/CSS resources, but user-made guides are your best friend when it comes to figuring out where to go from there. a.n. lucas and pauli kohberger both have really good guides for beginners, but for the more advanced stuff, i found myself referencing the resources on solaria's webspace and sadgrl.online the most. w3schools is also very helpful when it comes to answering more specific questions like "how do i use two different fonts on the same page?" (and probably more.) if all else fails, then usually just googling "how to (x) in HTML" or "how to (x) in CSS" will yield at least one useful result. for making your website more accessible, there's the accessible net directory and this masterpost by foxpunk on tumblr.

it sounds obvious, but it helps to have a solid idea of what kind of site you want to build before you actually dive in, and then snoop around on neocities to get an idea of how other users approach the same topic. for example, i got the idea to start a welcome home wiki on neocities after being reminded of the 8:11 wiki on the same site, and then i spent a couple days just looking up stuff like "wiki" or "fansite" on neocities and then clicking on any page that caught my attention to study it.

layouts! there's no shame in using a premade one, and you can even learn more about HTML/CSS in real time just by messing around with the base code before implementing any intentional changes. sadgrl.online's layout builder is a VERY popular choice, since you can already do a lot with the basic options it offers and it's easy to further customize once you have it set up on your page; it's what i used to make welcome to welcome home. sadgrl.online's webmaster links also feature a bunch of other options under the "layouts" tag, and if none of those work for you, then you can even find something just by looking up template/templates/layout/layouts/HTML/CSS on neocities itself.

side note: if you're reading this and you want to make a wiki then you can also use this wikitable code. it came out after i had already established the Look of welcome to welcome home, so i probably won't implement it any time soon, but i TOTALLY WOULD HAVE if it was around when i first set the site up.

you can scale images up or down using percentage, with 100% being the image's default size. i don't know how helpful or acceptable that is, but i use it a lot.

don't feel pressured to get everything done at once, even if you expect people to be visiting your site frequently. usually if you just slap on an "under construction" gif or even just write "hey this site is still under construction" then people will understand. i don't think i've ever seen anyone get super huffy about slow updates on neocities, anyway.

EDIT: OH. GRAPHICS. i mention all of these on welcome to welcome home's front page but i Also wanted to note them here: betty's graphics and websets by lynn both have HUGE collections of background tiles and other graphics that work especially well if you're going for that old web charm. i also like to use this mirror of patterncooler for backgrounds bc of the customization options. you can also make your own background tile and then use a seamless tile maker like this if all else fails.

EDIT 2: ALSO. obviously. do not be like me and use discord or any other chat client as a filehost, no matter how promising it looks, because one day you WILL get a very nasty surprise when the request signature on those urls expire and the images are no longer accessible on other sites. there are a myriad of other filehosts out there, but personally i recommend file garden (and also donating to file garden if you can, even if only for a couple months. i know i said that just yesterday, but if it gets more folks to subscribe then i'm gonna keep saying it.)

[skaruresonic]

"Shadow isn't always an aggro douchebag, look at all these times where he was slightly chill for three seconds in a row! Sure there are just as many if not more examples of Shadow being a raging knob, but I personally do not like those instances and therefore I am going to say they were bad writing and ignore them in favor of the reading of his character that personally appeals to me more!"

What is it about Shadow that makes people be trippin so much? lol

How hard is it for people to just wrap their heads around the idea that Shadows chemistry is different with everybody? He has a MUTUAL competitive relationship with Sonic BECAUSE they have just as much in common as they have differences. Rouge is probably the most trustworthy person in Shadows life currently but it's more like they're co-workers than friends. Amy seems to be able to tug on his heartstrings and get him to do whatever she wants with her earnest personality even while he acts all tsundere about it. Ect.

The way Shadow is isn't mutually exclusive, but folks seem to want to just disregard interactions they don't like because they're different from interactions he has at other times under different circumstances. If your view of Shadow requires trimming fat and going "yeah well that time he was being 'OOC' so I just ignore it" then maybe your view of Shadow isn't accurate.

>>me @ me: the damage is done. you've said your piece. do not drop the Even Spicier Take(tm)

>>me: instructions unclear, failed step one

Tbh, I didn't want to say this because quite frankly, I didn't know how to word it in a way that wouldn't come across as though I was passing judgment since that's not my intention. But… ever since Shadow dropped that "go help your teammates" line in Sonic Forces Overclocked, this general notion has percolated in the back of my mind...

...Well. I think this idea of Shadow as modern fandom conceives him is... made up. And that's the lightest way I can put it.

Over time, I've come to suspect that fandom's constructed this mental image of Shadow as a noble protector archetype, soft-spoken and who always strives to fulfill his duty, and they've become quite attached to it to the point of rejecting other aspects of his character… like the pettiness and the bullheadedness.

It's possible the reason for the backlash against Sega's current portrayal is because the image doesn't match reality. His canonical pettiness chafes against the grain of who he "should" be. I'm not sure how well I'm explaining myself, but I hope the sentiment is received in the spirit in which it's intended.

That's not to say the archetype or the better parts of his personality are necessarily wrong in every circumstance (mandatory disclaimer that I am speaking in generalities and am not personally knocking your fic), but rather, insisting that noble side is all he is and lumping the less palatable traits under that umbrella paints an incomplete picture of his character. Although nobility and pragmatism do inform important parts of his character, they aren't his only traits.

It's like if people took umbrage with Sonic saying "I have no master except the wind that blows free." What, precisely, is there to take umbrage with? If part of the character's personality rubs you the wrong way, that doesn't necessarily have to indicate OOCness, especially when the character is supposed to be an anti-hero.

I have no legit idea what folks even mean by "Vegeta!Shadow" anymore because, for one thing, never watched DBZ, and for another, he gets slapped with the label regardless of his behavior. I can't isolate the offending variable because there doesn't seem to be one, aside from "Sega sucks." Forces!Shadow is relatively chill but still Vegeta!Shadow because Reasons. Flynn fucks up issue 19 so therefore his portrayal is evidence that Sega wants Vegeta!Shadow, because that's how logic works I guess. Shadow goes on vtube and his rivalry with Sonic gets acknowledged? Vegeta!Shadow. Like, is there no sense of scale or degree with which people apply the label? These are three different portrayals. I don't understand.

Obviously I don't want to be all "you must have a high IQ to understand Shadu Le Hedgehog(tm)" because that's very not much the message I want to convey. Lol and lmao I would be so far up my own ass if I did.

But it is interesting how discussing him specifically results in particular problems of communication. The issues with discussing Shadow appear to be that A.) folks tend to think your personal opinions and gripes are indicative of those of all Shadow fans AKA the SA2 fan problem, and B.) you're always going to miss some nuance that someone else is going to point out, and sometimes you have to decide to take the L for the sake of conserving energy.

I've written about his character at length, sometimes embarrassingly so (he rotates in my brain like a TV dinner. hehe Shadow go brrrr). And I think anyone who follows me at this point knows my attitude on Shadow is always changing in subtle ways, because there are as many ways of looking at him as there are facets of his character.

On the other hand… I get that people flanderize him, and his multiplicity can be difficult to capture in the limited space a post can permit. But also, there are times where I'm tired and can't English(tm) and I just don't feel like including footnotes every time I'm like "hehe Shadow's kind of an asshole <3," you know what I mean? It should go without saying that Shadow's character allows enough berth that "hehe Shadow's kind of an asshole <3" does not inherently preclude those moments where he's not-an-asshole. Or less-of-an-asshole. Whichever. You know what I mean.

Despite being frustrated with fanon, I'm not trying to pass indictment and say This Is How Shadow Ought To Be Characterized Forever. Rather, I'm just expressing frustration at how fandom continuously refuses to accept the most baseline traits, like (checks notes) "annoyed by Sonic sometimes."

Like it or not, he does have some rough edges. It wouldn't be fair to sand down the bad boy side of Sonic, and indeed some subsects of fandom complain about its erasure. So why is it okay to do to Shadow?

[kamari2038]

Scenario 004 - A Machine Connor Saga (Pt.6)(Full Saga)

What the fuck?

Sorry, Lieutenant. It took me a while to find you.

Are you gonna come back like this every time you get killed?

My predecessor was unfortunately destroyed. CyberLife transferred its memory and sent me to replace it. This incident should not affect the investigation.

Not affect the investigation? I just saw you get... hit by a truck! Now you come back and act like nothin' happened?

A machine was destroyed, and another machine was sent to replace it. I don't understand what's bothering you.

Okay, fuck you. FUCK you.

No opportunity presented itself for me to question Lt. Anderson about his strange comments towards me leading up to the most recent destruction of one of my models. It took me approximately three to four hours to locate him, after Captain Fowler advised me that he had no knowledge of Lt. Anderson’s whereabouts and I was forced to search for him on my own. Eventually, after asking others around the station to no avail (calling Lt. Anderson was also not an option, since he’d left his cell phone at his desk), I resorted to searching his credit card records to find out where he normally frequented to purchase lunch. Around 3pm I located him patronizing a food truck creatively termed “Chicken Feed”.

I gave up after that on attempting to be friendly or social, since his mood was clearly not amenable to constructive interaction. I can’t help but wonder about the motives behind his strange comments and questions. What does he want from me? Does he want me to act human? By all appearances, he wishes that I hadn't dove onto a highway filled with moving traffic, but that if I had, I would have “stayed dead”. When I found him, he wasn't exactly mourning my absence. 

Yet, throughout the remainder of the day, he insisted on protecting me as if I were a child. I have emphasized clearly that my being destroyed presents little concern to CyberLife and needn’t have any detrimental effect on the investigation. My strength obviously outmatches his. I still allowed him to enter the apartment ahead of me, simply to comply with his wishes, however irrational, and because I judged the situation to present minimal real danger to either of us.

I can only presume that he must be lonely. I speculate he prefers to imagine that I'm a young human trainee under his care, rather than just a tool at his disposal on a solo mission to replace whatever real partner he may have had a chance to be assigned. After all, it's a bit of a misnomer to call us “partners”, although CyberLife encouraged me to use that language for the sake of PR. As for me, I'd just as soon be done with the charade. He clearly needs a friend, and instead he's got me: a machine that periodically needs replaced. If he has trouble accepting it every time I'm replaced by an identical model, I can't imagine he'll respond well to the realization that I'm only the first of an experimental line and he'll have newer versions coming soon. He should know better than to become attached to me in some way (although I find it hard to understand how that could even be possible), but if he continues this pattern of behavior, I must be diligent to remind him myself.

[someloserjay]

Concerts and Tequila PT.2

Tw!! NSFW mentions of drinking

This is the first smut I’ve ever written and writing from a different genders POV wasn’t a great first choice any constructive criticism is highly appreciated.

Part two to my other fan-fiction under the same name

Sebastian POV

Looking at her hazey eyes makes thoughts run through my head, hell my head is spinning. Doing anything right now isn't okay though, right? I ask myself. I mean we’ve both had so much to drink. No, I can't do anything. I'll wait. I have too. I realize I’ve just been looking over [Y/N]’s face as I’ve been stuck in my own head thinking. Before I can make another coherent thought a pair of warm lips collide with mine. The hand that had been on her chin falls as the lingering smell of tequila and some sort of fruity chapstick flood over me and I’m frozen for what feels like years before my body takes over and my hand moves to rest on the back of her neck. My eyes close and I relax into the kiss letting my mind forget its worries for this moment. Her hand tangles in the back of hair. Before I can even realize I’ve pulled her into my lap as the kiss continues, my hand gently holding onto her waist just under her hoodie. Her hands tangle themselves deeper in my hair, one of my hands hesitantly, creeps up her skin following the shape of her. She’s warm between the alcohol, the hoodie, and I’m sure because of the situation. My hand stops when it reaches just under her breast. I remember the conversation I had just had with myself and run my hand back down to where it had been. Eventually we pull away for some air, we rest our foreheads against each other as we breathe.

“I’ve waited so long to do that. Sucks it took 20 cc's of liquid confidence.” She says under her breath with a laugh, yoba I will never get tired of her laugh. Her voice is still horse and going in and out from screaming but it’s still the prettiest thing I’ve heard. I fall back into the bed, my head spinning a smile plastered on my face now, [Y/N] promptly climbs off my lap and lands beside me, her head finding its home in the crook of my neck. My hand finds itself gently rubbing circles on her waist.

“I didn’t know you felt like that.” I say trying not to watch her facial movement, I'm totally failing. I’m definitely staring.

“I didn’t want to mess anything up that we already had.” She mutters as she plays with a strand of my hair. I watch her eyes dart around my face waiting, no, begging for confirmation that her boldness hasn’t ruined our friendship.

“[Y/N], I’ve had a thing for you since we talked at the beach that night.” I say, her eyes light up the drunken haze still coating them. She yawns, it has been a long night, I glance at the clock. Shit it’s practically two am.

“Let’s get to bed.” I say standing up to go turn the light off and double check the door is locked. Sam and Abigail are sneaky bastards, but I owe them. As I turn I see [Y/N] climbing under the covers of the bed we had just been laying on. I can’t help but to smile. A big goofy drunk smile, yoba I’m going to feel so sick in the morning. How does [Y/N] drink with us on Fridays and just get up and do farm work. The thought bogs my mind as I walk back to the beds and without a second thought I undo the covers beside [Y/N]. She gives a very tired smile. She turns to be in bed and rests her head onto my chest, I slip my arm under her head. Can she hear my heart racing, I really hope not. I watch as she falls asleep, placing an very gentle kiss on her forehead, not not to wake her before going to sleep myself.

[Y/N] has the worst alarm sound, why did she pick the worse one, my head hurts. I groan as I sit up, I was right I feel like I got hit by a bus. Speaking of i have to ride one today. I toss my legs over the side of the bed and stretch. Before I know it, we’ve all checked out of the hotel and are climbing into the rental car to go return it and catch the bus.

“[Y/N] how in Yoba’s name are you so chipper?” Abigail asks as she closes the car door and gets passed the aux cord.

“Working the farm makes you a morning person, what can I say?” She says with a smile on. She puts the car in reverse and we get on the road. The three of us are dealing with different hangover symptoms except her. How is she fine? I know if I ask it’ll just be something like ‘farmers don’t have time for hangovers.’

The bus finally pulls into the stop at town and everyone hobbles off. Everyone says their goodbyes as Abigail and Sam head back to their houses.

“Well I better get back and check on the animals.” [Y/N] says

“Wait, uh, about last night?” I ask my confidence left when the hangover hit me.

“Yeah, you uh wanna come by later this afternoon and we’ll chat over some prairie king?” She asks as she tosses her backpack over her shoulder.

“8?” I ask and she nods, turning on her heel towards her farm.

——8pm——

I take a drag from the freshly lit cigarette, blowing it out as I glance up at the clouds covering the sky. [Y/N] should be happy rainy days are good for the farm, quieter at least. The walk is nice and quiet. It gives me time to think what am I going into? We both confessed our feelings. I’m confused and nervous about what’s going to happen. Are we going to pretend nothing happened? Before I know it I’ve arrived at the farm and my cigarette is finished making my nerves a small bit better. I make a straight shot to the door and knock the door while shoving the burnt out cigarette butt into the pack. I’ll toss it later, I think to myself. T my he wooden door creaks open as a tired [Y/N] stands in front of the door with a huge smile. She ushers me inside, on the coffee table sits a pizza box from the saloon and some jojo colas. She has pillows set on the floor to sit on and controllers set beside each side. She closes the door behind me as her cat comes over to rub against my leg before curling beside a space heater in the kitchen.

“So uh.” She says breaking the silence as we sit, the theme music for prairie king softly playing in the background

“I didn’t think it would be this awkward sober.” I say laughing out a breath, my hand rubbing the back of my neck.

“Look things don’t have to get all weird between us, if you don’t want to move forward anywhere that's totally fine. I get it completely. The friendship we have is great and if that’s all it’s going t-“

“You’re adorable when you ramble you know.” I say trying to not let on that I’m just as nervous as her. She begins stuttering over words trying to put a sentence together.

“Seriously, I like you [Y/N], and I want to move forward on that.” I say my hand moving to rest on hers. She smiles and I set my free hand on her cheek, gently pulling her forward until our lips meet. This kiss is much gentler, the passion is still there, it's not the same. It’s better. The food can wait, same with the game. As if it’s muscle memory, one of her hands rests on shoulder and the other finds its way to my hair. I pull away just for a moment.

“Do you want to?” I ask, my eyes meeting hers.

“Right now, more than anything.” She says before reconnecting the kiss. That’s all I needed as I guide her back onto my lap as I did last night. She straddles me as my hands find themselves exploring. They find the hem of her shirt, I start to lift it when it reaches her arm we break the kiss to let it slip off her head. My eyes drop

“I’ll be honest, I didn't expect anything to happen.” She says with a laugh a plain bra matching her skin tone faces me.

“I don’t care what it looks like.” I say grabbing the hem of my own top and pulling it off, tossing it with hers. She places her hands on my chest and the other on the back of my head. She pulls me forward back into a kiss, my hands trail up her spine until I hit the back of the bra pushing the two sides together, the clasp falls. Both of our breathing is unsteady as she pulls the straps off her shoulders. I’m assuming it lands near our other clothes. I’m quick with moving my hands to her front, she’s so warm. I feel a bit bad, I know my hands are cold, they always are, she doesn’t seem to mind. I have one hand reach to hold her breast as I rub circles around her nipple with my thumb. Her hips buck forward in response to the touch, and a quiet moan was added to the kiss. My own body is very well aware of the situation. I start to fiddle with the strings on her sweat pants until the bow she had it tied in comes loose. I’m cursing my jeans for being tighter than I want at the moment. She pulls away, breathing heavily

“Ugh, did you want to go to my room?” She asks as she slowly works the button on my jeans.

“Do you?” She nods, standing helping me up as she leads me to the bedroom. The door clicking shut behind us. She quickly steps out of her pants, her underwear falling with them. She climbs onto the bed as I’m kicking off jeans and boxers. My cheeks flush, she’s sitting against the headboard. She pulls me back in for a kiss before my nerves can catch up to me. One hand is beside her hip steadying myself, with the other I start to gently rub her thigh, quickly move up to tease her entrance. She gasps and whines, her hips push down towards my hand. I understand and slowly push two fingers in, starting them at a steady comfortable pace. I put my head in the space between her neck and shoulder being as gentle as possible as I bite and kiss at her neck leaving marks down to her breasts before kissing down her stomach. She gasps as my tongue presses against her sensitive bud. Moans slip from her lips as her hands rush to my hair pulling gently towards herself. After a couple minutes of this her thighs push together against my head slightly and I pull away.

“Not yet sweetheart.” I say in a borderline growl in her ear as I pull her down so she’s laying under me she yelps as she’s pulled from her sitting position. She smiles at me with lust filled eyes as I line myself and slowly push myself into her until our skin meets.

“Fuck…” I mutter as Im fully inside the woman underneath me now. Her legs wrap around my waist and pull me down from my neck into a kiss. I start at a quick but steady pace. I pull away from the kiss and look at her as she moans under me and holds on to my shoulders for some sort of handle on things. It’s not long before her thighs tighten around me and try to keep my stationary as she rides her peak out.

“I love you.” I say wiping some hair from the side of her cheek as I keep thrusting throughout her orgasm. I push myself up so I can see her fully under me, my hands going to each breast playing and gently tugging. I quickly pull out the warm liquid landing on her stomach and thigh. I touch my forehead to hers for a moment, before reaching over her to the tissues on her nightstand carefully cleaning her off. I toss them in an trash can she has in her room before laying beside her. We’re both panting as she cuddles beside me.

“I love you too.” She says smiling.

“Why don’t we get cleaned up, eat the food you have ready and play the prairie king.” I say sitting up, she nods and sits up with me. I think I'm starting to love Pelican town. And of course [Y/N].

[eve-be-sleep-deprived]

I don't think I've ever done this before... I never really talk about the Fic, but:

I've written a lot of sad stuff, gross stuff, nasty stuff. Abuse, torture, murder... visceral moments, stuff that hits you in the chest, makes you cringe. Every time I've cried when writing AWNM it's been because of a character being killed, a character I personally loved being removed suddenly from the story. I'm the author, I made this conscious decision, I wrote the words necessary to take this character disappear... But it still hurts, every time.

I hurt myself again. I wrote a scene, a moment, a vignette to the end of another character... one who I've callously forbidden to die, despite this... And I think I might have finally pushed myself a bit too far. It won't leave me, I can't get this moment out of my head.

The scene is below the break:

Adara’s eyes opened to an empty room, wrapped in crushing darkness, the lights above long having gone dark, dying alongside the last of the Zariman’s emergency batteries. All she had was a thin strip of light, no more than a foot tall, where the doors met, the weight of Hatshem’s barricade beyond warping them in their housings… ensuring they would never open again.

The food had long run out, the water long run dry… But Adara no longer felt hunger or thirst, those sensations were forgotten. The hollowness of her gut simply becoming another another silent companion on her slow journey to the afterlife. Slowly she struggled to her feet, movements sluggish and clumsy as her body failed her.

Unblinking she stared at that sliver of light, mouth falling agape as she forgot to keep it shut. Step by shuffling step that tiny strip of light grew closer, her hand reaching out unconsciously, as if she could grab it and draw it closer. As she saw the silhouette of her hand framed in the fitful rays of light cast, she paused, each joint stood out painfully, her wrist looking like little more than a brittle twig. Slowly she allowed her hand to fall, eyes following it to the unseen floor.

Her skin and clothes hung loose about her bony frame, hair dry and falling away in clumps, there was nothing left of her… nothing left to save. She was dead, she knew that…

Even if help came, even if someone was still alive to find her… she would die anyway. Carefully she scaled the small pile of furniture she had constructed when once she had the strength, pressing her trembling lips to the small opening, taking deep breaths of the fresh air in the silent world beyond. She closed her eyes, allowing herself, for just one moment to pretend she was anywhere else.

A faint melody brewed deep in her throat, the tone wavering, her voice cracking… it had been weeks since she’d allowed herself to make more than a whimper. It was something her mother had always sung to her, a quiet lullaby, something that always helped Adara drift away to sleep.

(To the melody of 'Smiles from Juran')

Windswept meadows, insects buzzing, tree-tops sway Fragrant breezes dry away my tears Let their smiles clear my mind

She paused to quietly hum the melody once more, silver-hued tears slowly carving through the filth that had encrusted her face.

Hear them call out, the forest is call-ing me Asking me to give away my fears Tears in Juran never fall

The pile of furniture, aging and brittle, finally gave under Adara’s meager weight, sending her tumbling to the ground. She whined quietly, curling up tight into the Fetal position, the melody still hovering upon her lips. Over and over she repeated the song, voice growing weaker and weaker with each verse, hoping beyond hopes that someone would come… all she wanted was to breathe the fresh air once again, to be bathed in light one final time… Not to go to Juran alone… not alone…

She didn't want to die alone...

...

But she did... I made this child, a 7 year old, die alone... and in spite of all the fucked up shit I've ever written... this might be the one that hurts the most.

I don't even know why I'm fucking sharing this.

[dreamsofanenbysapphic]

becoming queer

read about this project on my website

view on my website (srsly check it out i figured out how to make the cursor trail sparkles)

when i started this project i was planning to write about gender, but i was surprised to find that most of what i've written about has been the platonic/romantic binary and how it doesn't make sense to me. there's also a theme here about not fitting into labels & the pressure to find the "right" one(s). (and i want to be clear that at this time i don't really like to use labels & don't want suggestions) but most importantly, there's a theme of love-your-friends-and-stop-worrying-about-being-too-gay. highly recommend

full text below:

Monday, March 29, 2010 So yesterday I found out what "lesbian" means I don't understand how girls think guys are "hot". I don't think girls are "hot" either. 5/10/11 part of me has already accepted the idea that I don't like boys and I kinda like girls part of me insists I'm not attracted to either but I don't think that part is right I might be asexual though September 2011 "it's fine if you're asexual I'm just against lesbians but I'd still be your friend if you were one" 11/17/2013 3:08 PM what qualifies love from love if gender is out of the question? [separate, undated entry] And then suddenly I started liking this other girl and now I like the two of them equally one is like anti-gay have no interest in ever having a boyfriend..... I don't think I get crushes on either boys or girls (if someone would define "crush" for me that might be helpful.) Fears 11/16/13 why do I have to fit under a label what if it's wrong? what if this is all in my head and I really am straight and I just haven't found "the right one" yet? 2/16/14 there is no coming out for me me without my definitive label 3/24/2014 2:04 PM It's hard for me to Find an identity When I don't quite fall Into your straightened categories We all know I am not male, But I am not a "woman" I am just I The artist, architect of words 7/7/2014 2:07 PM just because you know my secret on a legal document does not give you the right to change my identity 7 May 2014 Without the gender binary, or the belief that there are only two genders, gender becomes a very abstract concept and is difficult to define. 8 December 2014 I have been completely fascinated with gender socially constructed March 17th, 2015 what is romantic love? do I love this person romantically or platonically? maybe I was just too scared to be a lesbian, Now I'm like, I'm asexual but I just do not know what romantic love is and that is why I think I might be quoiromantic. What is in between? i don't know what my romantic orientation is because i am not romantically or platonically attracted to people but somewhere in the middle for a lot of people and what do i do 15 December, 2016 And if gender is permanent, how do we explain people whose gender changes throughout life? September 10th, 2016 you once said that you didn't think anyone would ever love you and i almost said that i already did September 12th, 2016 why can't everyone just be polyamorous? October 18th, 2016 11:11pm # internalized homophobia being Out. i'm not out. i love girls, okay? being misgendered constantly. it's so exhausting. i don't have the energy to have the gender 101 talk every. single. time. no one fucking cares about my special snowflake gender i think some people think i do it intentionally to make my life harder. i just want to be myself and i have so much dysphoria December 4th, 2016 i think i could be polyamorous March 4th, 2017 and i stopped saying 'no romo' because i still have so much internalized homophobia April 22nd, 2018 it's not just a level of how much I love someone but also how emotionally connected to them I feel, and how much I want to spend time with them.. and how much I trust them I don't know if I can categorize this as romance but I definitely want it to be equivalent in importance to a romantic relationship, and I just feel like too many people think my experience isn't real June 13th, 2019 I feel like I'm starting to understand a reality where I don't need to assign everyone into two categories because they are just social constructs I feel romantic toward my friends because I love them, but that doesn't mean that we're going to be Married and Monogamous I don't know if I am also polyamorous or if I only think I'm polyamorous because I feel so disconnected, experiencing the world this way, but I think it opens a door to a whole new world to allow myself to fully love my friends

[visd3stele]

🔥 Chapter o n e 💧

fic masterlist (A court of waves and flames)

a/n: read the synopsis on the masterlist page and a full list of the trigger warnings this entire fic will have. each chapter will have them listed for its own content as well.

the title is still under construction, but until I change it, you can use it to find the fic in my tags

tw: talks and thoughts of death, sort of religious imaginary, rebirth (i think that's all)

Is this how it feels to die? She can't help but wonder. Lulled back and forth in a dark blue silence, no space, no time, no feels around. It wasn't calm, or fast, cold or warm. It simply was. And Faith started to forget when that was.

She has been submerged in water before. Both of her own free will and agressively against it. Both as a punishment and as means to sooth sore muscles, aching limbs, pained mind.

But it was nothing like this. This was death and birth muddled together in a state of existance, non-being.

How am I breathing? She struggled to think as her mind seemed to spread thiner and thiner. Each time harder to bring back together. As if she had to pull up an anchor caught between two big, strong rocks.

The void question brough a bit of sense back to Faith. Her almost immediate answer was another worrying question: Am I even breathing?

Perhaps she wasn't. Perhaps the only reason she wasn't dead was because death doesn't exist there. As soon as she'll be brought out, her water filled lungs will cease to fight. Then she'll choke, silently, non-violently, in her comatose sleep. Then she'll die. A simple course of action Faith had, ironically, been preparing for with each morning she opens her eyes.

Now that it came – under this peculiar form, no less – the young woman felt betrayed. Cheated. She could drown, if a storm, a marine monster or a rival ship attack burried her under waves and wrecks. But this calm nothingness, this neverending water she's been sinking in, were too far from her chosen life to accept.

No. Faith Archeron, the best pirate healer in the world, couldn't drown at the bottom of a Cauldron. Primordial deity or not.

Small currents circled her. Vibrating like a low chuckle. Finally. I have been waiting for you to come out and play. The water said. The noise – for it was no sound nor voice – echoed all around her. Passing through her skin, soaked in hungrily, rather than flying by her ears.

Too many questions stormed Faith's brain. What do you mean? What do you want? Who are you? They clashed and overlapsed, each erasing the other until only a mumble could be made out of.

The currents wind up again. The Cauldron's eerie chuckle. And its eerier noise spoke again.

I know you, Faith Archeron. You destined yourself for great things.

Finally, her mind woke up, hooking itself in the odd expression. The analitic side of her, the one used to asset the severity and number of wounds and come up with solutions on spot, took charge.

How do you mean I destined myself?

Do you truly think I or the Mother, the Spirits, the Gods, the Father truly have nothing better to do than write each of you, mortal and semi-mortal being's lives? But if you want to chat life philosophy, my dear girl, you'll never leave here. Better to tell me why don't you swim?

I can't. My limbs are heavy. The water holds me in place. I'm stuck.

You are changing, the Cauldron corrected. Don't you want to accept it?

I don't even know what I'm changing into. Why? I didn't choose this.

Are you certain, dear girl?

The Cauldron seemed to whitdraw somewhere deeper into itself. But this time it didn't leave silence behind for Faith to tingle inside. It tore open her mind and left the young woman to her thoughts. Desires so hidden she didn't even dare whisper inside the walls of her own mind.

A lifetime of adventure at sea. Too short, if she is human. Time flies and soon Faith wouldn't be able to hold her balance on shore, much less on the ever moving deck. And if she is hurt, or catches a sickness, it can kill her faster than she can heal it. She is always exposed to the risk.

The greatest fear paining her heart: to forget and be forgotten. Both shall happen with the frail old age of humans. She'll missplace dates and stories. Her family one day will remember her fondly, rather then live with her.

Love. She hasn't find it yet. And Faith isn't even looking for it yet. But she is curios. She might not get the chance to share a love so deep and meaningful like those who have centuries behind and millenias ahead.

Faith was proud to be human. To be the only human on board and one of the few who brave magic waters and still earn her titles fairely. To be the first human – one of the first and only beings, even – to make such a powerful name around sailors and other creatures of the sea of all sorts.

And she didn't crave power. She gained enough and what she couldn't, she made. But she didn't want to ever leave the life she found – the life she forged.

Faith never dared speak such wishes before. She'd shut them out, quickly look away from them. For they were in vain. But now...

Now you are becoming High Fae.

Faith smiled. A laugh threatened to slip past her lips. When I swim to the surface and get out, I'll be fae?

The Cauldron laughed at her hopeful, yet still incredulous tone. Yes.

And the simple confirmation brought forth Faith's reprised gidiness. She laughed, loudly. Her body was like freed from a spell, now swirling and moving inside the primordial water in a dance whose steps Faith didn't know and didn't understand. But it was fine for her heart did.

Unnoticed by the female, an arrow of warmth shoot through her body. Following the course of her veins and nerves, it spread from that place near the heart where lies the souls througout her entire body.

Now you're ready to ascend. Go! It's not good for you to stay under for so long.

It'd take a while until Faith will be able to wrap her mind around what happened once she is outside the Cauldron. All she will understand will be the fire in her lungs burning through what little oxhygen she managed to draw inside. A bitter cold wrapping her naked body in a constant tremble as she drains over the Cauldron's lip. And a pair of miss-matched eyes fixed on her.

"You're my mate."

One russet, one gold. And a stunned, involuntarily smile.

"You're my mate."

A whisper. A caress. A convinction. A prayer.

"You're my mate."

And a pair of chiseled amber arms wraping a green coat around her shoulders.

[dovithedarklord]

Age of Mosters - Chapter Two

Pairing: OFC x Simon "Ghost" Riley, OFC x König

Tags: Slow Burn, Slow Build, Enemies to Lovers, Alternate Universe, Blood and Gore, Blood and Violence, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, POV First Person, Not Beta Read, Medical Inaccuracies, Military Inaccuracies, AFAB OC

Trigger Warning: The story will contain violance, blood and smut in detail. Please, keep that in mind!

⚠️MDNI⚠️

...................................

Author's Note

Finally, the small team enters the picture, and it becomes clear how Leona's failed escape attempt continues.

I apologize for any possible mistakes, but my eyes can't find the typos when I go through the text for the twentieth time... so sorry!

The chapter is still kind of an introduction... but everything will start over time ;)

Leona calls everyone by their last name, so it might be weird for a while if you're used to the characters' callsigns/nicknames. But for now, it didn't seem natural :)

(I proofread myself before posting, so sorry if there are mistakes! I write the story in my language first, and I translate it after. English is not my first language, so help is welcomed! Just be nice, please!)

if you're interested you can find the story on AO3: Chapter Two

..................................................................

I press my lips into a thin line as I stare at the door in front of me, my legs bouncing nervously under the table where I've been sitting silently for at least an hour now. The sound of the clock ticking on the wall feels almost ear-piercing in the silence of the empty room, and I feel my patience running thin with each click. I would prefer to run amok and smash the fucking uncomfortable chair against the wall, but my hands that are cuffed to the table stop me from doing so thankfully. Of course, I also know that my temper tantrum wouldn't make any difference because I successfully got caught anyway, and breaking and crushing things wouldn't change that. What I would achieve with it at most is that they’d get another dose of that very premium stuff, which got me here in the first place.

I spent at least seven of the last twelve hours completely knocked out, and maybe it was better when the outside world seemed like a distant nightmare. Because when I finally regained consciousness strapped to a white hospital bed, the memories quickly returned to my head and I realized that I was sinking into the shit I caused for myself. Even though I tried - rather stupidly - to escape by stunning the two enforcers, I should have expected that even if they didn't know what I was capable of, they wouldn't send just two people to catch an Extreme. If nothing else, the simple fact that it is extremely rare to find one of my kind justifies their caution. I should have known from the moment I saw the lab results. But panic clouded all my judgment to such an extent that I attacked and fled like a startled wild animal. It was embarrassingly easy for them to hunt me down.

My mind still fills with helpless rage and disappointment as I think back on the chain of events that destroyed my carefully constructed disguise, life, and everything, that I had built for the last twelve years. How could I have been so stupid to not pay attention to the camera on the other side of the street? How could I possibly be such a gigantic idiot that I didn't check how many friends the bastard had before I took him out for a snack? If his little friend hadn't been in a hurry to find him, there wouldn't have been a single problem. But then he came after his bestie, I killed him, and now I'm sitting in a fucking interrogation room, handcuffed to a table. Of course, no one said a word about what was going to happen, they took care of my injuries and transported me here in careful silence, I suspect in order to unsettle me and to make me agree as willingly as possible to whatever stupid offer they have in store for me. And as sickening as it is to admit it, they are not far from succeeding.

It was clear from the first moment after I woke up that they do not intend to throw me in prison or execute me, because then they wouldn’t have wrapped my injuries in gauze with such tenderness, and my pretty little body in a foreign uniform. Of course, I should be happy that my earthly career does not end so abruptly and early, but I know very well that if anyone walks through the door of the room and makes any "offer", I won’t be in any position to refuse. From here, the road only leads to an even deeper sea of shit. And now, for the first time, I regret that my lust for blood won and I hunted someone down because of it. I would have been better off tossing and turning in my bed, on the verge of unconsciousness. Then the ticking of the fucking clock wouldn't drive me crazy.

But before I could drive myself deeper into madness, the white door in front of me opens with a soft creak, and I stop my restless legs and straighten up in my chair with my light eyes on the arriving stranger. A woman in her forties enters the room, her hair resting in a neat bun on the back of her head, her hard gaze directed at me only shaded by her light locks. Her face says nothing as she looks at me while closing the door behind her, but it's very clear from her firm steps that she doesn't see me as a threat. And why would she? I’m like a snake whose venomous teeth have been pulled out.

My tongue unconsciously runs along the sharp curve of my canines, and it still fills me with a sense of loss that I'm not feeling the cheap plastic of artificial teeth. Perhaps the confiscation of the tools that served as my disguise affected me even more sensitively than my capture. By the time I woke up, both my contact lenses and veneers were gone, and I felt naked and defenseless for the first time in years. I’m not ashamed of any of my physical features, even those that are characteristics of my kind, but I hate that this intimate secret of mine has become a public spectacle and information. But after all, that's what happens when one plays with fire. When you burn yourself, your own misery hurts all the more.

Of course, I can't deny that it filled me with morbid joy when the doctors or the enforcers carefully avoided my gaze after they recognized the meaning of my vertical pupils. I prefer to feel like a predator than a prey. Even if here and now the reality couldn’t be further from it.

"Good afternoon, Miss Woods. How was your sleep?" The woman inquires comfortably, her voice surprisingly pleasant and warm, despite the serious expression on her features. A small ironic smile tugs at the corners of my mouth involuntarily, because I find it extremely comical how she starts with the kind of conversation normal between two neighbors when she’s about to interrogate me. I guess this will be the good cop, bad cop lineup. I just have to wait for the bad cop to appear now.

"Great. Thank whoever shot me with the splendid narcotic on my behalf. I haven't rested this well in years. " I comment while I keep a close eye on every little movement the woman makes in the meantime, searching for any sign that could lead to more information.

"Don't worry, you will have the opportunity to do it yourself." She answers, and I don't like the way an inexplicably sweet expression appears on her face, which makes my eyes narrow in suspicion. "My name is Kate Laswell. I'd like to say I'm glad to meet you, but I suspect it wouldn't be mutual." She continues, taking a seat across from me and placing a thick folder on the table. I take a quick glance at it, and just one look at the logo on it is enough for me to know that this lady did not come from the official government agencies. And this fills me with mixed feelings at best, because no privately owned organization that cooperates with enforcers has a good reputation, neither in this colony nor in the other fifty-seven remaining in the world. Because they are the ones who usually go on missions from which people return in several pieces. IF they return.

When she gets no reaction from me to her statement, she just opens the heavy file with a tired sigh to reveal such a quantity of documents that makes me wonder how much information the enforcers have collected about me in such a short time. It's clear that she's familiar with every detail that’s in it, yet she skims through the first couple of pages one last time, only to then lean forward in her chair with her eyes raised to me.

"I don't want to waste time, so I'll get straight to the point." She interlocks her fingers together on the table, giving the impression that what she is about to say is of great importance, which I do not doubt. "You have concealed your status as an Extreme Healer until now, which is not only illegal but also dangerous. Presumably, similarly to the current case, you illegally fed on civilians on several occasions, knowing that you could only officially do so under the supervision of Hunters and with their help. You refused your duty to Colony No. 17 and failed to fulfill your responsibilities as a Healer, thus hindering the work of the official bodies and the Hunters, which protect the colony. On top of all that, you committed murder and violence against official personnel. And there is reason to assume that it was not the first time."

"You summed it up quite nicely." I add appreciatively because I’m completely aware of the meaning behind every single word she uttered. I chose this path consciously and I have not regretted for a minute the freedom I have enjoyed because of it. She doesn't seem amused by the lightheartedness with which I responded to my criminal record, her face furrows in worry as she draws her elegant eyebrows together.

"Miss Wood, I wouldn't take these accusations lightly if I were you." She warns me sternly, with the same tone one would reprimand a messy child. There's an edge to her voice that tells me she's experienced in giving orders and is used to disciplining unruly elements like me.

"I’m not. But I won't argue with the facts." I shrug, leaning back in my chair because at this point I've given up on trying to put on any of my masks. This woman would probably see right through it anyway. Because she's been analyzing me in the same exact way I've been examining her ever since she came here.

Short silence settles in the room as we stare at each other, and I'm waiting for her to finally stop beating around the bush and blurt out the real reason behind her arrival. Reviewing my past actions served no other purpose than to clarify what cards she had to corner me. Under normal circumstances, everyone would be shocked when their lies and misdeeds are exposed and they are openly confronted with the skeletons hiding in their closet. But it doesn't affect me. Every day and minute, I was fully aware of every risk and sin. And they were all surprisingly easy to live with after a while.

"In this situation, unfortunately, you don't have much choice regarding the future." She breaks the silence and continues to keep her eyes on mine, and with this, she silently tells me that I better pay attention to what she’s about to say. I'll give her my full attention in return because ever since my fucking eyes opened in this damned place, I've been waiting for someone to fill me in about what's next. The insecurity burns me now more than any crime I had ever committed, the feeling of uncertainty akin to a rusty knife twisting into my skull, digging deeper and deeper into my brain. "I'm not going to sugarcoat it. You have two options. Based on the charges listed against you, one of them is execution." She attacks right away, and I feel the air stuck inside of my lungs almost painfully because I know that this would be the easier solution. This would be the logical, orderly, and fast route that I would deserve, and which might seem better than the other option. But I won't choose that. And she knows that exactly.

"And what would be the other option?" I inquire, and I hate how the barely perceptible, ridiculously faint fear moves into my voice, which no one else would be able to pick up, but I know from the expression on the woman's face that I’m not able to fool her.

"You join Liquidation Unit 141 as a member and official Healer to pay for his crimes." She strikes mercilessly and immediately hits the target because I freeze in silence and stare at her, like someone who’s seen a ghost. Of course, it would be foolish to say that I didn't know this was coming, but as her words fully sink in, the whole situation suddenly becomes reality. Even I am surprised by how, despite the gloominess of the situation, I burst out laughing, and I wonder if maybe I still have some of the drugs they used to knock me out in my bloodstream. The development of the events leading up to this moment seems so ironic, that just because I couldn't control my fucking hunger and chose dinner from the wrong menu, now all my efforts have been in vain. Because some stupid bastard was worried about his buddy and because karma put the only camera on the street that takes a sharp picture. Everything I've been trying so desperately to avoid is happening. What fucking luck I have.

"What’s your answer?" Comes the question from the woman, but I know that it doesn't matter what I say. Because we both know I'm not crazy and brave enough to choose death. I am selfish, and I would rather cling to life, no matter how sinister and unfavorable the future may seem. Because as long as I live, I have a chance to escape. Until I don't die, I have the possibility to be free again.

"I hope you won't regret this deal, Laswell." I speak up finally, and I don't need to explain any further for her to know what decision I have reached. "Because I've been on my best behavior until now. I'm not sure I'll continue to feel the urge to be a good girl." I lean forward, pulling my lips into a dark little grin, because the pride in me won't let me appear crushed and desperate as I go down and get defeated. And since she seems like a decent woman, I'll be fair. Better to warn her that it won't be an easy ride if it's up to me.

But when a knowing smile curls onto her lips, and for a minute I regret that I tried to provoke her. Because a chill runs down my spine from the unrecognizable sparkle that appears in her blue eyes.

"Don’t worry. I expected this and you will be in very good hands."

⃰*

If I had first doubted whether Laswell's threat was empty, I was now sure that she had no intention of leaving up to chance how well I would behave. With a frustrated sigh, I try to wrestle myself into a slightly more comfortable position in the back seat of the jeep, but it’s rather difficult because with my hands cuffed behind my back, no situation seems less uncomfortable than the previous one.

I might consider it a little excessive that she incapacitated me to such a degree, but I have to admit that I gave her a reason to be uncertain about my intention to cooperate. Of course, despite this, the mask that tightly covers my mouth, which ensured my silence from the start, still seems a little ridiculous. What did she believe? That I going to throw myself at her and rip her throat out? She should know that my kind doesn't bite just on a whim, because it is such an intimate and dangerous moment that I have rarely been willing to do in my life so far. It leaves an easily recognizable mark, but it isn't my first choice because of its other unpleasant side effects either. And now I can't let my guard down because of said side effects. It's not worth it all.

The whole journey passes quietly, which gives me enough time to reflect on the recent events. After our small talk, Laswell got into the car without wasting another word, stating that the sooner I got to my new home, the better for everyone. I managed to find out that the base where her unit was supposed to be stationed was located outside the colony, which immediately made me wonder how much better it would be for me to find myself outside the walls of the well-protected and secured city. But luckily, the woman was kind enough to reassure me that there was nothing to worry about, the base is in the yellow zone, so even though we have to venture outside the colony, the chance of mutants appearing is very small. And anyway. Her people have everything under control, there is not the slightest reason for concern.

It is really not that easy to explain this to someone who was already born in the green zone that provides security and has never left it. After all, you can hear nothing else from the radio, other than cautious warnings telling the residents not to leave the walls protecting the city, because only certain death awaits there. Of course, realistically, I know that the yellow zone is still close enough that there is little risk of attacks, but it is also close enough to the orange and red zones that the possibility of danger is not zero. And if the chance is not zero, it is not certain.

The car comes to a slow halt and that disturbs me from my musings, and as I look out the windshield window and see the long line of walls bordered by barbed wire, the nervousness caused by the hopeless situation that I thought had left my body awakens in me. But it seems that there are still enough surprises for me to get excited about. Hooray!

We arrive at the facility's only entrance, and after a brief greeting and presentation of Laswell's identification card to the guards, she drives on, and an almost irritatingly bubbly and busy-looking base opens up in front of me, and I wonder how many people do they want to entrust to my care. But after the first glance, I can tell that a significant portion of the soldiers are not Hunters, because they look too human and weak for that, and they lack the dangerous aura that can only be a characteristic of a Hunter. It's not like I've met that many Hunters in my life, but everyone knows exactly by what physical characteristics can you spot the heroic vanquishers of mutant monsters right away. And after the first Hunters "awakened" fifty years ago, such an amount of data has been collected that a picture of them immediately pops into one’s head after they hear the name.

"We've arrived." Laswell suddenly steps on the brakes, and I straighten up in my seat to prepare for what will follow. I ran a few possible scenarios through my head, evaluating just how difficult this job would be considering that the only other alternative left was death. And I came to the conclusion that the only options left are those with which karma will kick me where it hurts the most. If I'm fortunate, all I have to do is tend to the Hunters' injuries and regenerate them from time to time when they get close to insanity. If I'm out of luck, they can throw anything at me from annoying to deadly. So I'm pretty sure I can't expect anything good, but maybe I can be a little grateful that I'm alive. I'm sure I'll find something sickeningly beautiful even in this miserable shit. After all, hope and the motivation to survive are the last to die.

Laswell jumps out of the car, picks up her small bag resting on the passenger seat, and steps back, and as she opens the door for me, I am almost touched by how gently she grabs my arm and tries to make it easier for me to get out of the vehicle without my hands. She's certainly not only doing it because she still harbors that small irrational fear that my stunt with the enforcers will happen again, and I skip off. Certainly not.

"My team is waiting for you inside. I thought it would be a good idea for you to meet everyone you'll be working closely with at the same time." She explains as she guides me towards the entrance of the huge building located in the middle of the base, and I decide that I will not give up my pride despite the tight spot I got myself in. I will not give anyone the pleasure of playing the role of a terrified little mouse just because I got caught in a shamefully simple manner. Therefore, I straighten my back and follow the woman with the posture of a confident bad bitch, raising my head high, throwing my brown locks back as if I had arrived at one of the red carpet events seen in the archives. After all, the soldiers loitering around stare at me as if a real star had set foot in their humble abode. And it might as well be the truth because I'm sure that even if the authorities stopped information from spreading about my fun little activities in the colony, news about me have already reached their ears. And if every wretched fool eyeballs me with such interest, I will give them the attitude that comes with this privileged position. Silly behavior, but at least guaranteed fun. And I'm afraid I'll have to entertain myself with these little pleasures for a long time.

It definitely should bother me how easily my stubbornness overcomes the fear in the pit of my stomach, but I think at this point it would be better if I let these unnecessary worries go. Because now I can't do anything else but let myself drift with the events. And there is nothing more comforting than delusional confidence. However, as soon as I get my hands on the right information, my brain can go into planning mode again, and I can start working on my escape.

The inside of the building looks like a complete maze, a long corridor after another endless one, rows of doors everywhere, and I try to look for easily identifiable reference points with furtive glances, although I assume that I will never be left unattended in the building if I just look at what precautions I have been treated with until now. It's not like I'll be able to just walk out the main entrance later, because a back exit, a hidden little window would be more suitable for my sweet escape. But unfortunately, I still have to wait for these delicacies. First, I put their suspicions to rest about the fact that these stray, sweet things even arise in my head.

Laswell suddenly stops in front of a door, and I know that now comes the main event, which makes the uncomfortable grip that is still settling in my stomach come to life again. Fixing my gaze on the back of my guide's head, I stop behind her as well, and for one last time, I repeat the mantra that has been circulating in my brain since I regained consciousness. I'll fix everything because I always have. There's no problem I can't overcome. And as the woman opens the door in front of me with a swift movement, and stands aside with a nod to indicate that I should get in, I obey and walk past her with light steps after I gain back my delusional determination from my small pep talk to myself.

I quickly scan the room, the huge screen on the wall, the large windows through which the afternoon sunlight shines warmly, and finally the huge table, at the end of which I find the people for whom I was probably brought here instead of the slaughterhouse. The door closes with a low creak after Laswell steps inside behind me, and with her hand, she gently nudges toward a chair at the other end of the table, and I lazily flop down in the crossfire of four pairs of eyes.

"You're late, Kate." Says the man sitting at the middle of the other end of the table, and as he raises his cigar to his mouth to take a puff in the most assertive way I've ever seen someone do it, the confident carelessness of a true Hunter radiates from him. But it doesn't escape my attention that the look of both interest and caution crosses his face framed by a thick beard as he studies me.

"Identification took a long time at the wall. It was not easy to bring our guest over." The woman nods her head towards me, and I only reward her explanation with a cursory glance, because she is indeed right. Everything was probably taken care of by the time we reached the gate leading out of the city, yet the soldiers standing guard there studied our documents with such fervor as if the woman wanted to smuggle something sketchy and of dubious origin. I felt sorry for her for a minute when she started a long argument with one of the guards, but this rare spark in my soul was fleeting, after all, I was much more occupied with my own misery. "Now I'm going to take off the mask and ask you not to do anything rash." Laswell turns to me, and I raise one of my eyebrows skeptically in response to her unreasonably cautious warning. Do I look like an absolute idiot to her?

As the woman reaches behind my head and begins to work on removing the mask that has been covering half my face, I take a closer look at the men sprawled at the table. Just as I could clearly tell in the courtyard that there was not a single Hunter among them, I can now state with the exact same certainty that all those present here are. At first glance, they are not just any Hunters, but all of them are at least S-class, it is enough to just observe their behavior. But as my eyes fall on one of the guys wearing a mask exuding a rather menacing and grim aura, who looks almost unbelievably huge, I realize that he must be an SSS-class big boy. In most cases, it is not possible to tell where a Hunter is between class F and A based on physical characteristics alone because over the years and with the development of their skills and their merits, they can rise between the levels. But only those who are born for it will rise to the S-class, especially to the SSS-class. There is no clear explanation as to what causes this anomaly, but the trigger of the appearance of the first infected mammalian lifeforms, or I.M.L.s, caused a stronger mutation in their case. Which made them more powerful, faster, and deadlier than their fellow Hunters. And from this sudden realization, for a moment, the wild joy I felt earlier wavers. As an Extreme I can kill with my ability, but the chances of me even laying a finger on any of them without their approval to use my little tricks is almost ridiculously low. No problem. I am here to be their Healer. And for that, they will have to let my sly little hands get close to them.

"Don't you think that you went a little bit overboard? What did you think I was going to do? That I'm going to bite someone?" I ask, squeezing every drop of irony into my voice, as the damned mask finally comes off me, and with my comment, I only get a reprimanding look from the woman.

"You’re here ’cause you’ve already done it, aren’t ya?" Comes the teasing question from one of the Hunters, and as I look toward him, somewhat of an eerie feeling starts to dawn in the hidden corners of my memories, as I run my eyes along his features. I would certainly remember it if I ever had the bad luck to meet a Hunter with a mohawk. Or any S-class Hunter for that matter.

"There's some truth to it. But I don't bite, I cut." I note cheekily, twisting my lips into a sarcastic little smile that has been waiting to appear ever since I set foot on the base. Of course, I know that I shouldn't provoke men who not only look dangerous, but undoubtedly are, but what are they going to do to me? In order for them to be able to use me, they need me mostly unharmed. Laswell, who may be in some leadership role, however strict she may appear, will not let them harm the new acquisition if she has gone through all the trouble to get it.

"You’ve already met Hunter MacTavish." Laswell motions her head towards the guy who is verbally trying me, and suddenly I get the feeling, like when the last missing piece of a puzzle falls into place and the picture gets complete. I immediately realize why his heavily accented voice sounds familiar, and as the recognition dawns on me, my face involuntarily breaks into a wide grin.

"You're the bastard who shot me!" The remark breaks out of me, and I can't understand why this causes me such joy. The fact that I'm in the same room as the person who's probably been tailing me since the very first moment after my slip-up just confirms the fact that Laswell tried to get a hold of me the minute the DNA test results were fresh and crisp. What could be the special extra problem with this team that makes them need a Healer so urgently? One, moreover, whom they are willing to save for themselves despite her status as a proven criminal. Interesting.

"I'm glad to meet you awake." The Hunter named MacTavish nods his head at me, with a grin on his face that makes me rightly assume that I'm not the only one who finds the situation morbidly intriguing.

"It reassures me that I didn't stand a chance. At least I don't have to lament on what would have happened if I managed to run off." I shrug as I lean back in my chair as far as my still shackled hands will allow. I'm serious about my little remark because it's now clear that I had no chance of escaping from the beginning. It's not like I had any brilliant ideas in case I managed to succeed, but would've found some clever solution.

"Don't even think about that now." Suggests Laswell, and for a moment she looks really worn out as she leans on the table with one palm and turns to my small audience. "We should rather spend our energy on getting to know each other. It's better to get over it as soon as possible. From left to right, Simon “Ghost” Riley." Begins Laswell, and then points to the man sitting on the far left of the table with her hand, who looks at me with his dark eyes so penetratingly that it gives me a visceral and instinctive feeling that something sinister is lurking behind his skull mask."John "Soap" MacTavish." For a change, the woman introduces my captor again, and the man continues to grin at me in an annoyingly good mood. "Our unit's captain, John Price." Laswell points to the guy with the cigar, who continues to puff, studying me, as if this situation were an everyday affair around here. "Kyle “Gaz” Garrick." Said person just greets me with a curt nod and looks at my modest person with cautious curiosity.

After lining up her small team, Laswell finally takes a seat at the table, with her job momentarily done, and from the bag she was carrying, she takes out the file again with which she had already delighted me earlier. However, instead of going through it probably for the thousandth time, she delivers it to the Hunters who are patiently waiting across the table with a firm push.

"Although I have already informed the team in broad terms about your situation, for the sake of completeness, I would like them to familiarize themselves with your material in detail. After all, you will be working with them from now on." The woman reminds me, and I pull the corner of my mouth with complete indifference as if this wasn't something that would determine the further development of my life. However, no matter how relaxed I may seem when each man takes out a page from my file and studies it with ever-deepening gloom, the restlessness in me stirs up again, which pushes my heart rate to unpleasant heights. If it didn't bother me before, how Laswell delved into the many misdeeds I'd committed, now it bothers me just as much as these dangerous strangers review the report that surely goes into every essential detail of my life. And maybe that's because while I was sure that I could take care of the woman at any time if the need arose, revealing my secrets would only put me at a disadvantage with those whose craft is killing. Up until now, I wanted to believe that they would still have blind spots regarding me because obviously, not a soul knows about the level to which I have developed my ability, but it is enough to focus on the furrowed brows of their captain, and it becomes painfully obvious that this futile hope of mine is about to come crashing down. Because this guy seems experienced enough to know when to dig deeper for answers.

A short but no less suffocating silence settles in the room, and to my surprise, Laswell seems much more worried than I am, although I'm sure that of the two of us, I have more reason to be on pins and needles. This again makes me wonder about what kind of unit it can be, where such detailed information is needed about a simple Healer, who in theory won't be responsible for anything other than nicely replenishing and pampering the Hunters when they drift to the brink of unquenchable aggression and bloodlust due to the exhaustion of their strength. You'd think it's a position that would require some reasonable attention, but not nearly as much as these five men are giving me right now.

"How did you manage to kill the victim found in the alley?" The captain asks, and I’ve almost waited in anticipation for him to start the interview. And after mentioning the incident, I'm overwhelmed with annoyance yet again. Of course, his interest is justified, because Healers cannot kill people, and according to general belief, neither can Extremes. But despite the fact that he asked this question out of curiosity for my nice little attraction, it still reminds me of the mistake that can only be attributed to my own feeble stupidity.

"I'm sure the autopsy provides enough information." I nudge my head at the stack of papers in front of him with a telling smile, and the man's eyes just narrow with beginning irritation at my answer. I don't really want to give out the rather sensitive data with which I still have a chance to surprise them, but I'm not so stupid to not know that the relatively friendly atmosphere can quickly take a strange turn if I don't start talking. I have no illusions that they can get what they want to know out of me if they want to. "I increased the pressure in his brain and caused him to have a seizure combined with a stroke, in which he died." I summarize briefly and to the point, and as they suddenly look at each other with a mixture of incomprehension and surprise, my twisted little soul fills with pride. Of course, I've never had the chance to brag to anyone about how I managed to perfect my skills through hard work and experimentation over the years, but deep inside, a pleasant warmth moves in my chest to see their jaws drop. Even though they will most certainly not let me near their body without increased supervision now.

"I thought Extremes were just Healers on steroids and were only capable of healing wounds and recharge Hunters." Garrick frowns in bewilderment, and his comment reflects the thoughts of his companions as well. It seems that even the well-informed Laswell is surprised by this newly discovered bit of information because her eyes meet with the captain's for a fleeting glance, and to me, this is just enough evidence that my dangerousness may not have been properly assessed by them. Of course, they could have thought that I couldn't be completely harmless based on the way I left the poor bastards behind the club.

"It's true for an average Healer." I lean forward with a mysterious smile because I would be in denial if I claimed that I don't gain any satisfaction from being able to momentarily shake such highly esteemed men out of their composure. I could be called an evil little pervert or a sneaky little bitch, but such small moments in life should be appreciated. "But in the case of people like me, the advantages also increase along with the disadvantages concerning nutrition." I sit back, as carelessly as if I wasn't still the biggest loser in the whole story. However, the fact that I managed to provide them with something unexpected does not mean anything. Because I just gave them one more reason, in addition to the countless other ones so far, to keep me on a short leash. I'm pretty sure I won't even be able to breathe innocently enough for them from now on. But if my freedom is already lost, let me at least have my petty joy.

"Would you elaborate?" Says Laswell, and I wasn't wrong in that she can hand out orders like a pro because the words uttered as a request sound more like an instruction. And before I speak, I contemplate how much detail I should go into. But considering that they already know how cleverly I can eliminate someone, there's not much point in hiding the details, because they'll figure out on their own that I can probably attempt more cunning magic tricks than this. And maybe it's better not to leave it up to chance because I have the sneaking suspicion that the more I leave everything to their imagination, the less time I will have to spend unsupervised from now on. And I don't like to give up my me-time.

"In an ideal case, even an average Healer is able to heal only by localizing injuries instead of full regeneration or regulating the energy they use to treat Hunters. Of course, they don't really like to teach this, because then, God forbid, they wouldn't be able to change the Healers every month, because they would be able to do their job more efficiently." I begin my little lesson, and I see how just by stating a simple fact I am straying into very dangerous territory, because the atmosphere of the room cools down in a minute, despite the heat of the incoming sun rays. It immediately becomes obvious that similar problems arise here as well. And suddenly I understand why they needed an Extreme with much higher endurance if the Healers are probably changed here as frequently as dirty underwear.

The generally negligent treatment of Healers and their lack of proper training is a sensitive topic for everyone involved, which both the Hunters and the government have tended to sweep under the rug ever since the entire system was set in place. And even though there are very few Hunters and half as many Healers, somehow no one is bothered by the fact that this is not a very successful story. That's why I've tried to remain invisible until now and to hide in the utmost secrecy because I knew that as soon as I immersed myself in this vaguely bubbling mess, I'd immediately be dragged up to my neck in it. Because it doesn't matter that I will last a somewhat longer, I doubt that they will appreciate me more.

"In the case of Extremes, I can only speak for myself. If I use my energy, I can accurately feel every organ, every muscle, bone, and every tiny vein, and control the flow, pressure, and density of the blood. Not only in Hunters." I continue my presentation, and the people present in the room show increasing degrees of surprise. "Of course, I can also use my energy to a greater extent than average Healers, for general and more complicated healing and regeneration. But perhaps everyone already knew this about my kind." I continue my explanation further, at the end of which I came close to the effect I hoped to achieve. Because I can see that I shut the words into them, if only for a minute, and this leaves me enough time to further study their reaction and wonder what they will do with the revealed information. And I don't have to be disappointed, because Price quickly adjusts his features and returns to the position that suggests that whatever happens, the control remains in his hands. How sad that my joy is always so short-lived.

"This is good news. We’ve been waiting for something like this for a long time." The captain folds his hands in front of his chest after briefly processing what he heard, and now it's my turn to carefully narrow my eyes. It's hard for me to imagine a reason that would make them believe that it's good news that they have to put their hands near a person who just turned out to be able to kill them in that exact way. "Based on experience so far, the unit's work has proven to be too dangerous for other Healers. I was afraid that we might have to deal with the same problem, but now we know, there is no need to fret. This makes field work child's play." He outlines the situation, and there is nothing sweet or charming in the smile he pulls on his lips. My fists clench nervously behind my back because I don't like it one bit that the confidence I want to feel the most radiates back from the man. Nevertheless, I hold his gaze, my mouth in a mocking smirk as I cock my head to the side because, even though they are slowly cornering me, I am not willing to back down with my tail between my legs. It's a bit like a dick-measuring contest because even though I don't have the necessary equipment, Price still wants to make it clear to me that no matter how sneaky I think I am, he’s the one calling the shots here. And that makes hot rage bubbling up inside me because I suspect that his promise is not an unfounded and empty threat and he really has such excitement in store for me. Healers aren't usually sent out into the field because it's more important for them to remain in one piece at least as long as their duties are fulfilled, but these people aren't scared that I’m made out of glass. Flattering.

"I look forward to receiving the honor." I reply, and I try to force all the calmness and false kindness into my voice. And the captain seems quite amused by this, and for some reason, I'm not thrilled that he doesn't take me seriously enough. Which of course is completely understandable, because we all know that as soon as I try something funny, they could kill me immediately. And the fact that this is so obvious to everyone only makes me even more furious.

"Of course, this will not happen just yet. The boys will give you training beforehand to help you get prepared for fieldwork. Since the unit does not only deal with the protection of the colony but also carries out special liquidation and crime prevention activities in several areas, you will need special training. For your safety, of course." Laswell interrupts our little banter, and my eyebrows rise to my hairline at this statement. I'm not crazy about the idea of being dragged on monster-infested trips by these so-called human tanks, but this idea and explanation might be even less to my liking. At least a thousand different situations appear in my mind about what funny and extremely deadly excitement Laswell's little team gets involved in, which does not bode well for me, to put it mildly. Until now, I knew that private units and squads were always involved in something nebulous and questionable if not outright deadly deals, but the fact that I just had to end up with one that, according to them, specializes in getting their hands dirty, squeezing my stomach like a lemon.

As the dream of my Healer position, which is relatively tolerable and definitely conducive to escape, begins to disintegrate before my eyes, I start to get more and more nervous. Of course, I should be happy that perhaps during the training I might acquire skills that will increase the probability of me being able to disappear at the first opportunity, like the father who went down to get milk. But I know very well that this will be more of a survival test and a cabaret than sincere help. I understand why it's good to be close at hand when shit hits the fan, but what the hell are these weapon-laden, super-fast, super-strong, super-whatever professional killing machines doing if I'm forced to huddle next to them like a squire? Why don't they just bring themselves back in one piece while I comfortably wait for them here?

"Don't worry, love, we'll be careful not to harm ya!" MacTavish grins widely, showing all his teeth, and I suddenly feel an irresistible desire to try to throw myself at him and strangle him despite my handcuffs. Because now he's clearly having fun at my expense, along with his stupid captain, and I'm cursing myself more and more for even thinking that fate would spare me. Of course, there was no doubt that they would want to use me as intended, but I didn't expect that they would find creative ways to make my life difficult. But, right, those who are stupid should die, those who have hope and may even be presumptuous should accept that others will mop the floors with them. Because I have no doubt that they will.

"Since you will be performing Healer duties to all four of our Hunters, therefore, of course, they all participate in your training. This will at least give you a chance to get used to the team better." Laswell continues her explanation, and as I grasp what this will mean for me, for the first time, my mood becomes genuinely sullen and a sour taste fills my mouth. My mind is slowly starting to process the situation, and now I can see exactly what kind of predicament I'm in. Under normal circumstances, it wouldn’t be unthinkable for a Healer to take care of several Hunters, but since they are not trained for efficient energy management, they quickly reach their tolerance limit. So, in most cases, a Healer can take on a maximum of two Hunters, and they can only manage to do this if they're treated with a very gracious attitude, and if of course none of their little clients are ranked S or higher. And now these people seize the opportunity, and they throw all four tough guys at me, who I will cheerfully accompany to wherever their heroic adventures will take them after they give me lessons on how to take care of myself. I can safely assume that Laswell was on the lookout for years for an Extreme who can handle all of this, who due to their self-healing skill has very little chance of dying when her little boys drag them into a bloodbath. So, all this big fuss happened because her team wasn't able to take care of their toys that well until now. Their Healers at best became useless if not died, either during a mission or due to the high energy demand of healing injuries or regeneration. Of course, it's not surprising, because Healers are not designed for this action-packed lifestyle. "Of course, if a life-threatening injury were to occur in the case of soldiers occupying other positions in the unit, then you must take care of them as well."

I'm not even surprised by this addition, because it almost dwarfs what was outlined for me. I study the Hunters again involuntarily, and I can't shake the thought creeping into my skull on slimy and disgusting legs that this unit specializes in even riskier missions than what Laswell disclosed. Even government-run liquidation units sometimes get involved in crime prevention, but in none of these cases do the Hunters go on missions that are so long-winded or perilous that a Healer needs to be present to immediately patch up the little heroes. That's why I have mixed feelings about the suggestion that I'll get involved in potentially fatal adventures in the future, and this finally puts an honest seriousness on my face. Regardless of what I theorized as a possible outcome when Laswell first appeared in front of me, I think it's time that if the promise of a livable life is gone, I do something to at least make sure my chances of survival don't end up the same. Here, Leona, you ran away from your supposed duties for more than ten years, and now you are being chased into the dick-forest with your mouth open. Make sure you at least enjoy it.

"Marvellous. But I hope everyone is also aware that in order to perform this honorable task well, I will need blood." I warn Laswell, because at this point I feel that subtlety is unnecessary, and at least something beneficial should come out of all of this shitshow for me as well. And before the aforementioned could intervene, I flash my sharp gaze at her. "It's not optional, it's a fairly well-known fact. If I don't get blood, I won't be able to use my ability. And for a party of this caliber, I need more than just a taster. But liters."

"You don't have to worry about that. Now that you're here, you can officially feed under supervision." Laswell reassures me, and for some reason, in addition to the relief, I still have the feeling that this sounds much simpler than what it actually will be.

"Don't worry, we'll take good care of ya'! " MacTavish speaks up again joining my encouragement, and it starts to become clear that the guy has a comment about everything, which he likes to let out every chance he gets. But he seems to be the one who gives me the least cause for concern, and who does not seem the one who intends to unnecessarily complicate my existence. How kind of him to reassure me many times that I didn't walk into a den full of wolves. The little liar.

"Great. Now that we've laid out the groundwork, let's talk about the details." Laswell begins with her formal tone again, and I, suppressing a tired sigh, fight my way into a more comfortable position, preparing to take in all further crap that is rolled in my direction. However, my light eyes are inevitably drawn back to the Hunters, who are currently occupying every one of my brain cells capable of thinking. And as my gaze meets that of the masked man, who has been silent since the beginning of the discussion, but no less threatening, the woman's voice fades into a monotonous murmur in my ears. Even though at first glance I thought that all Hunters exuded the same sinister and heavy aura equally, I soon had to realize that there was much more hidden in the dark eyes that shone behind the mask. Just a few seconds of Riley's undivided attention is enough, and I feel the little hairs on my back rise instinctively. Because it becomes quite obvious that he is a true predator and sees me as nothing more than his prey. And if he promises one thing right now, it's that he'll do everything to make sure I don't forget this wandering silent warning.

[hartshorn-and-isinglass]

I see stuff going around about navigating complicated relationships with non-accepting parents, and much respect to all of you who are trying to make it work. But please, always take care of your own physical and emotional safety during that process.

I'm not out to most of my blood family because I had to go VLC with my parents early on. They were just so weird and scary and violent about me existing outside the narrative they were trying to construct for me, and at one point I was actually genuinely worried they would try and place me under conservatorship just to retain control of my life and my finances. I had to straight-up stop telling them anything about myself for the sake of my own survival... so I never even got as far as telling them about my queerness.

I still think, generally, that coming out can be a good thing, if you believe there's something there in that family bond that's worth fighting for. I've seen friends finally have their families come around after years of being weird about it. I understand the idea that being out to your folks usually provides somebody concrete for them to focus on instead of having The Queers(TM) be this abstract and scary bloc, and that generally helps humanize queer folk to them. It's just that my family was so messed up and had so little respect for me, I actually worried that they would treat queer people worse if I told them I was queer.

Now that my dad's quite old, chances are he wouldn't become violent towards me or any other queer person in retaliation, so it's not a matter of physical safety anymore. It's more about how there's just... not really a relationship there, at all. There can't be. His brain just isn't wired to see other people as whole people. Who I really am doesn't matter to him as much as his own self-image. I don't really feel compelled to try and plead my case for my own humanity to someone who isn't capable of taking that in.

(This is the kind of Spiders Georg level of dysfunctional that I really hope most of you can't relate to--if you can, I'm sorry. We didn't deserve this.)

[jedi-bird]

A vent post about house repairs because I need to get it out before I start screaming at the walls.

Before we got married, my partner's family decided to renovate their house. Partly because it had never been finished when they moved in (concrete slab instead of floors, broken and missing tiles, one bathroom unusable, shitty electrical, no central air or heat) and partly because a pipe broke and why just fix one thing. In the planning stages, they asked if I had any opinions. I told them a few things to watch out for that they were considering. Don't use sensor lights the house. Don't use tiles with lots of little parts in bathrooms. Don't get glass sinks for the bathroom that's going to need a lift bar. And only hire licensed people.

I was told, after helping them look for months at options, that my opinions didn't matter because I was never going to live there. My partner and I were engaged at this point. So I shut up and said nothing.

Surprise, surprise. Guess where we now live? And guess what problems there are?

First off, mother in law could not be convinced to not hire none licensed crews. The plumbing that they replaced? That they were supposed to level off for the downstairs bathroom since the pipe was for some reason angled up? Most of it was replaced except the bathroom, which still doesn't work right. The electrical? We're currently dealing with no working lights in the master bath, no working plug in the upstairs bathroom, two of four sockets shorted out in the office and at least one in our bedroom, the socket never worked in the laundry room, and no additional plugs added to the garage like they paid for.

The upstairs floors were not leveled so things tilt (I get very bad vertigo in two specific places while walking). Floorboards were not the ones ordered and are already wearing out pretty significantly. Tiles not level in the shower. Doors and doorjams not fully painted. Several plugs painted over completely. Cracks in the walls and ceiling. Broken glass cabinet. Mismeasured counter tops so a very expensive sink couldn't be used after already being purchased. Air conditioner broken because they moved it and then hit it. Trash left all over the yard and buried under the dirt from the replaced pipe (which they didn't cover so water leaks into the house every time it rains). A jet tub that mother in law wanted and was never properly installed so the jets never worked. Dimmer switches that immediately broke (properly part of the short). Windows that can't be opened in two rooms because they were installed wrong.

They eventually got so fed up with nothing getting done that they fired the construction people, who then threatened to sue despite getting paid in full at the start of the project (another thing I said not to do). It took another very large payment to get them to leave. So now, not only do we have all of that that's wrong and still never been fixed, we also have two large gaps in the walls that apparently only I noticed and care about (because bugs keep getting in) and now a broken downstairs toilet leaking everywhere because it too was installed wrong.

I'm pissed. I'm so very very pissed. I'm the one who has to clean this place and half of the choices make it harder than it should be. The bathrooms all have fucking sensor lights that can never tell when I'm waving at them so they turn off and stay off. That first broken cabinet in still in the upstairs of the house, shoved into a box that no one will let me get rid of. We currently have a water damaged wall full of mold and a broken roof that desperately need to be fixed (hopefully before this winter).

I'm so very fucking tired and have resorted to repairing small things myself because I know how to do some of it. Which makes the others mad but we can't just ignore it! Yes, the house is safe and livable. But why leave it with problems? Why can't we just get the big stuff done?

Rant over for now. But yeah, I'm very frustrated and still am not allowed to have an opinion despite living here and taking care of things.