#the only way to do better is to face it snd get help and grow

[unforth]

Saw a post where people in the notes were arguing that behavior is only manipulative if it's intentional and planned, and tried to "prove" it with, like, Baby's First Example Of Manipulation ("if you don't do xyz, I'm gonna do abc.") and it's been ten minutes and it's still giving me hives. They were literally like "do we need to take 'manipulative' away and put it on the shelf" because they don't understand what manipulative behavior is.

Look if you (generic) think manipulative behavior has to be conscious, intentional, and planned, you are absolutely clueless and ripe for being manipulated. People can be i.n.s.a.n.e.l.y. manipulative without realizing they're doing it, and not recognizing that is, frankly, dangerous.

Signed, someone who has been repeatedly abused by people who certainly thought they weren't manipulative BUT ABSOLUTELY WERE.

[catboydreamer]

summary; hcs of modern au scaramouche as your boyfriends :)))

he would stay over very often but would make up excuses as to why. A huge one he liked using studying despite not really having the same classes, he’d come over and sit on your floor while staring at those textbooks for hours. And “conveniently” it would be dark outside so he’d say he has no choice but to stay.

for the most part he prefers to give you gifts over open, verbal and physical affections. Though, he gets better but it’s easier so he finds a lot of things to give you. Though, that look he gives you almost every time is priceless, he adverts his eyes always as he gives it to you and without fail looks back to see if you liked it and you do. When he sees this, it’s over for him, his face starts heating up and it’s the perfect chance to pepper him in kisses >:)

He does love intimate moments behind closed doors. He can’t really help it if he reaches for you and wants your affections directed towards him. He craves it, really.

He just doesn’t want to subject you to any negative energy so he won’t talk about you much in public spaces. There’s a lot of bad people out there, worse than him, that would hurt you in a heartbeat. 

Whether he’s able to keep you behind closed door honestly depends. But as it gets more serious it’s definitely way more difficult. Maybe he’d just break and let it slip or something just happens and he forgets for a long moment to not let anyone see him like this, snd he just runs to you. Afterwards, he’ll be embarrassed but you just smile and pat his head.

For your relationship to reach deeper levels would take a much longer time on both parts but it’s definitely so worth it. 

don’t get it wrong, he’s still your grumpy scaramouche, he’s just expressing affections between snide remarks too often. It’s comical though when he’s hugging you with his chin pressed to your shoulder as he pouts and grumbles, “you’re so annoying.”

He initiated the contact and his grip becomes tighter. It’s not insufferable at all actually, just very cute. Don’t tell him, though. 

it’s like this only around you, he’s a little sweeter but that’s about it, you know?

you don’t really get how you got here though but it just hits you when he came over without announcement, rain clinging to his baby blue t-shirt. You had pulled him in by the arm and found him something to wear, it wasn’t much but even as you went on ti say it, it left a lot of warmth. 

““you left these here last time so.”

it would’ve been perfect to tease you but he says nothing but stares as he grasps the clothes. You think you’ve gone unnoticed in your affections but he leans towards you and pressed a soft kiss to your cheek. 

You had gone around and started to search for dinner again. You grow bored quickly wondering what scaramouche is doing, and search your house aimlessly. You find him in the laundry room, his bare back to you. The washer is running already. He turns and you tilt your head. Hadn’t you given him clothes? 

He just gives you a grin. And it’s definitely. Yeah, he’s teasing you a little bit. How could he not?

Anyways, your boyfriend is a shit head so get used to that. 

But get used to his mood swings and how he’ll go from loud yells to shaking with tears within minutes. 

You’re like the only person who gets to call him kuni, though. In fact, he expects it from you so, don’t disappoint.

[blueberry-sunshines]

Small Surpises— Big Brother Shiro x Little Sister Reader

Summary:

You are Shiro's younger sister waiting on him to return from a mission while you reminisce about your life with your big brother which then gets interrupted when he brings you back an unexpected surprise...

Word Count: ~2K

Childhood memories | Brotherly Love

Requested by: @white_skittle on Wattpad

{Your POV}

Honestly, you had never really thought that it would be so boring to be in a half-castle half-spaceship until you were actually in one. It sounds crazy to even think you'd be in one let alone that one exists! One moment you were on earth with Keith trying to figure out these weird radio signals and then the next your brother who'd been missing for a year had crash landed onto earth in an alien pod! And just when you didn't think anything could get any crazier, you found a giant blue lion that whisked you all away into space! That was just the beginning of all the adventures you'd have traveling the universe with your new found family. But as of now, the only thing you could do is wait around the Castle of Lions until the Paladins are back from their mission. To keep your mind off of your boredom and anxiety you tried your best to distract yourself with useless things like wondering the castle and getting lost in your own thoughts.

You were significantly younger than your brother, Shiro. While he was 25, you were only a teenager. You two were always rather close despite your age difference. Shiro was always so cool, you and all of your friends thought he was the most amazing person in the whole world. And if you were being honest with yourself, he still was. I mean, being the paladin of the Black Lion and the leader of Voltron was the coolest thing you could think of! As kids you and Shiro loved playing together, you would play with his soldiers and planes or he'd play dolls with you. You two would spend hours playing little games like hide and seek or just playing pretend.

You would be the princess and Shiro would always be the courageous knight there to protect and save you from evil villains and mystical dragons. Using sticks and pool noodles as swords he would slay any foes that even dared to hurt his little sister. Shiro has always been your hero in more ways than you'd ever realize.

"Fear not, Princess (Y/N)!" He would cry, holding his makeshift sword in the air. "I will slay this dragon to protect you and your kingdom from his evil!" He would then jab at one of your stuffed animals or sometimes even trees, pretending they were the villain.

     As you got older, you two were still super close. Shiro was then entering his teens, going to the Galaxy Garrison to be a pilot. He was so smart and so talented and all you ever wanted to do was impress him. When you didn't think he could get any cooler he always did. But even though he was at the Garrison, he still had never let you down. You have many memories of Shiro picking you up after school and taking you out to your favorite diner. Sitting in a booth across from each other he would ask you about your day while drinking a milkshake in his bright orange Cadet uniform.

"You look silly in your uniform, Takashi." Little you giggled in your memory. You could still see Shiro's face as he pulled away from his Oreo milkshake's straw, as well as the smile that formed on his face as he let out a small chuckle.

"I guess I do look kind of silly, huh?" He agreed, setting down his milkshake softly.

These couple times a week visits made it feel like Shiro had never really left at all. Soon you were able to transfer into the Garrison Cadet program and next thing you remember is staying up late into the night studying with Shiro and practicing your techniques. Shiro was the star of the Garrison and he still remained the star of your life. Sure you had made many friends, but Shiro was still your best friend above all else. You still remember when Shiro had introduced you to Keith and how you two got off to a rocky start. But eventually, it didn't feel like it was just you and Shiro against the world anymore. Soon you had a new honorary brother in Keith. You would all ride around together on Hoverbikes and Landspeeders and you even would take Keith for milkshakes at your diner.

"Hah!" You beamed triumphantly as you swung to a halt on your hoverbike. You looked behind you now as your brother came up to a stop behind you. You laughed triumphantly as you had just beaten Shiro to your designated finish line. "I told you I could beat you!"

"I never doubted you for a second." Shiro told you proudly as he whipped the sweat from his forehead.

You looked now on the other side of you over the edge of the large cliff next to you. "So can I learn the dive now?" You blurted out quickly.

Shiro laughed warmly, "Absolutely not." He said quickly and gave you a teasing smile. "Not until I'm sure you and Keith are both ready." He explained, watching you pout in amusement.

As you were entering your teenage years and Shiro was leaving his, you two had somehow managed to grow even closer. He had come out to you over the course of your time at the Garrison. You still remember him gushing to you all about his, then crush, Adam. You were there for him when coming to terms with his feelings and there when he brought Adam home to your parents for the first time. In return he was always there for you, helping you when you were sick, giving you advice when you were down in the dumps, and he helped you through your first ever breakup.

Time was flying by so quickly and soon, you were an accomplished pilot just like your big brother, and Shiro had asked Adam to marry him. Life was just the way you liked it and you didn't think anything could ruin your wonderful relationship with Shiro. If none of the petty sibling fights you got into or even any of the serious ones could have ruined it, you didn't know what could. But, you could never forget Kerberos...

"We're back!!!" You heard a voice shout from a room over. It was the cherry voice of Lance McClain exclaiming their arrival in the castle. You began running back down the corridor to return to the lounge where you heard the voices coming from.

"Hey, (Y/N)!" Hunk smiled seeing you enter the room. You saw Lance, Pidge, Hunk, Keith, and Allura all standing in the room.

"How did it go out there today?" You asked them all, subconsciously looking around for your brother. The Paladins went to a freed planet to collect some tech that was needed to help the fight against the Galra.

"We collected all the samples we needed." Pidge told you before gesturing behind her, "Coran and Shiro are unloading as we speak." She was unusually smiley, but you brushed it off as her just being happy to have new tech to work with. You were about to leave to go find Shiro when,

"(Y/N)," Keith said your name now, walking over to you, also dawning a small smile. "There's also something we brought back for you, too."

"Hey!" You heard Lance complain, "I wanted to be the one to tell (Y/N)!"

"Too bad." Keith smirked at him and the two began a small, signature squabble as they walked past towards the direction of the showers.

You looked over at Pidge and Hunk now curiously, "What are they talking about?" You asked them, furrowing your brow in thought trying to guess what on earth they could have brought you. You heard them both giggle as they refused to give you any clue before heading towards the showers as well. Your last hope was Allura.

She just looked as confused as you, "I do wonder what they had brought you as well." She said warmly before following you towards the other door the four Paladins had come from originally. As you and Allura made your way down the hallway she tried to offer you ideas as to what they could've brought you, but half the things she said you had no idea what she was talking about.

Once you reached the hangar where the Paladins had come from, you sprinted towards the Black Lion. Coran was placing small metal crates onto a floating cart and Shiro was helping him.

"Shiro, Hey!" You yelled as you got closer, Allura still following suit.

"(Y/N)!" Shiro called your name happily placing down a crate and turning towards you. You laughed as you ran into his arms, you felt him stumble a bit upon impact and you heard him chuckle.

"You really missed me that much?" He teased you as he gave you a tight squeeze before putting you back safely balanced onto your feet.

"Always do." You smiled up at him affectionately. You then cut right to the chase, "Keith said you guys brought me something!"

Shiro raised an eyebrow at you, "He did, did he?" You nodded in response and he let out another laugh. "Alright, you got me." He admitted humbly.

"Is it another crystal?" You asked excitedly. Shiro had brought you small trinkets before from the missions you didn't get to go on. The Paladins often needed your help, but sometimes when there wasn't any risk you'd just stay behind.

"It's better than that." He said mysteriously as he lead you back towards his lion.

"Is it a bigger crystal?" You asked which earned you a laugh in return.

"No... now stop guessing!" He shook his head in amusement. "Wait here, I'll be right back." Shiro instructed you, turning snd disappearing into the lion.

You looked back over to where Allura and Coran were conversing about something while you waited. Once your brother reemerged from Black, he was holding a small box that had some kind of cloth or blanket sticking out from it. You stared at the box in pure curiosity as Shiro grew closer.

"Keep your voice down," he advised as the contents of the box were nearly in full sight. "You don't want to startle him."

You were still not understanding what this could be but now you were thinking it may be alive. Despite not knowing, you listened to your brother and kept quiet. Shiro held the box further down and you saw him.

      You had to hold in a squeal as you saw what Shiro had brought you. It was a small light gray ball of fluff. The creature had long droopy ears, four legs with five tiny toes on his paws. It had four small horns above his closed eyes, a pink nose and cute little pouting mouth. His chest and his face were white and he was all curled up in his long, white, fluffy tail. He sort of reminded you of a chinchilla but much more alien like.

        Gasping you looked back up to Shiro, "No way..." you breathed out finally. Shiro had a large smile on his face.

        "Do you like him?" He asked now, "His breed is concerned to be a loyal partner on Ormaphu. He's a traditional Ormanphian pet called a Bentorm."

         "Shiro I love him!" You gushed looking back down as your sweet, little baby Bentorm.

          "I'm glad, I thought you would."

      When you were kids, you would always beg your parents for a pet but they never let you or Shiro get anything besides fish. Your new Bentorm was the most amazing pet you could think of! Your attention was turned back to the box when you heard him let out a soft yawn as he stretched and uncurled himself. You let out a soft aww, as he sat upright and looked up at you with big, black eyes. He looked as if he was smiling as he looked up at you, he began making a sweet chirping noise and you looked up at Shiro in amazement.

        "You can pick him up." Shiro told you softly, smile still prominent on his face. You reached down and picked him up softly from his tummy, under his arms. You pulled him close to your chest and he quickly snuggled into you, smile on his cute, Bentorm face.

         "From what his breeder told me, they don't get much bigger and they love riding on their owners shoulders as they get older."

       "Allura!" You exclaimed, "Look what Shiro brought me!!"

       

        Allura came over then, in the same awe that you were upon seeing him for the first time. "Is that a Bentorm?" Allura asked looking up at Shiro.

      Shiro nodded and moved the box onto his hip you free one of his hands to pet the Bentorms head.

       "What are you gonna call him?" Shiro asked looking back up to you.

         "Hmmm, I'm not sure..."

_________________

Hi everyone! Thanks for reading this Brother Shiro one shot! It wasn't super long but I think it's pretty cute. Shiro would be the best big brother and I hope I captured that!

Have a great day! Keep requesting please!

[shotofire]

Number 9

Kageyama x F!Reader

Overview: You’re a student at Aobajosai high, and during a tournament a setter for the opposite team catches your eye

Warnings: Cursing

Season: 2

I got a request that said “Just give me some Kageyama” 🤣 So here it is anon, hope it meets your standards.

-

The sound of boys yelling and sneakers squeaking the floor can be heard from every point in the gymnasium. The stands were full of each teams supporters, letting out chants and shouting ‘nice kill’ every so often. Taking the floor now was your school, Aobajosai, and Karasuno. Volleyball wasn’t a sport you ever got into, but it was still entertaining to watch. Mizu, a good friend of yours, basically begged you to come here with her.

The girl has an obsession with Oikawa for whatever reason and feels the need to come to every single one of his games. He didn’t even talk to her all that much, and is kind of a stuck up jerk in your opinion. There’s no denying he’s a powerhouse when it comes to volleyball. “This whole thing decides if they go to nationals!” Mizu’s excited voice breaks you from your thoughts. “That’s a lot of pressure.”

You can only imagine how they feel down there, especially the third years. Some of the players look like they could pass out any second from pure adrenaline. Mizu made you stand at the bottom of the dozens of perfectly suitable chairs instead of sitting. She wanted to be able to make out Oikawa facial features, and hear his voice. Yep, she’s totally whipped.

“Is Karasuno any good?” Sure it was known that your school has a great team, but you’d never kept up with others. She only shrugs her shoulders at your question, eyes fixed on Oikawa as he starts to serve. Of course she didn’t know, all her attention was on one person every single match. “Did you see that serve?! It was amazing!” She jumps up and down with glee, jeez, shes down bad.

As time goes on it becomes apparent that Karasuno is in fact a good team. Better than just good, they’re incredibly talented and continue to surprise you. Every single boy has some sort of secret move that no one sees coming, it’s impressive. Number ten was lightening fast and your eyes have trouble keeping up with him. Then there’s number nine, obviously the setter, who has grabbed your attention as well. He’s kind of... cute.

He has this determined look on his face, and has been making some impressive plays. The boy seems to work pretty well with the small redhead, they even give each other goofy smiles whenever a great play is made. Deep down you wanted Karasuno to win, it seems like no one believes in them.

Number ten slams down and spike and you can’t help but cheer out. “We’re the blue and white team, you know that right?” Shit, you forgot Mizu was here. She was so in-depth looking at her dream boy that you’re surprised she even heard you. “Yeah but that was a killer spike, you gotta admit.” Her face turns into a frown and she huffs, “If you’re gonna cheer for the other team you can go to their side.” Was it really that deep?

Honestly you didn’t care where you stood, either way you’d probably still cheer for Karasuno. The team continues to surprise everyone and it’s crazy to witness. You’d heard someone call them the ‘wingless crows’ once when describing their volleyball team. These boys have definitely put that name six feet under. “Oh shit, they won!” You say and Mizu’s face is on the verge of tears.

“I can’t even imagine how my baby feels.” Yep, he’s totally her baby. “He did good, he’ll be okay.” It’s a bit heartless to say but it’s true. Oikawa gave all he had and scared the shit out of everyone with his spikes, but the crows are just too strong. They were underestimated and it caused your school’s team to loose. They may have lost but they sure didn’t fail, their fight kept up to the very end. It’s crazy to see the passion people can have for a sport.

“We have to go see the team!” Her voice was urgent as she grabs your wrist snd begins dragging you out of the stands and down the stairs. “Are you sure they’d want us in their business right after a loss?” It wouldn’t even change the matter if Mizu was actually dating Oikawa, the guy needs some space. “Well you can go do that, I need to use the restroom.” Really, you didn’t. But you didn’t want to see their annoyed expressions when your friend runs up on them with too much energy.

Number nine creeps his way into your mind. The guy was good, and showed so much passion. It’s enough to catch anyone’s eye. To put that much effort into something is so admirable, you wish you could care for something as much.

Right as you round the corner, you have no idea where you are going, you see him. Number nine. Him and his team are jumping on another with hugs and hard pats to the back. The boy looks happy, and once again.. so cute. Maybe I should talk to him, you shook your head at the thought. There’s no way he doesn’t have a girlfriend with that pretty face. Well if he did have a girlfriend wouldn’t she already be here congratulating him?

The voice in your head keeps telling you to take the chance. The worst he can do is turn you down, and then you’ll never see him again. You’ll never know if you don’t try. But him being surrounded by his teammates would be hard if you were to ask him for his information. It’s one thing to get rejected, but infront of a group of guys, that’s terrifying.

Should you just follow them and pray he separates from them at some point? Then if that doesn’t happen you’re going to have to suck it up and take the chance of being embarrassed. You trail behind the team as they shout and man handle one another, it’s weird how boys celebrate.

At this point you had no idea where you were, and would have to ask them for directions anyway. Then again they were most likely heading towards the exit. A different volleyball team, that you can’t name for your life, passes infront of you blocking your vision of the crow’s. What the hell? These guys nearly bumped into and didn’t say a word. All you got was a few winks, boys will be boys.

As they move from infront of you, he’s right there. beautiful number nine is leaned over drinking from the fountain while his team walks ahead of him. Shit this is your chance! You practically speed walk to him, not even caring if you look a bit crazy. As he stands up you’re right infront of him, and his eyes widen. Your presence scares him, then nerves grow in his stomach. Why is there a really pretty girl standing so close to me?

You didn’t mean to be so close, you were just determined to get to him before he could possibly walk away. “Hi,” is all you manage to say. Holy shit you look crazy right now, no doubt. “Hi?” He didn’t mean for it to come out rudely, but it definitely did. The boy is just confused is all. He watches the way your face falls a bit and immediately wants to slap himself. “S-Sorry, the tone was an accident.”

“You’re fine. I wanted to congratulate you on your win.” The air is a bit awkward and anxiety is radiating off the both of you. “Oh thank you.” It’s silent now, the awkwardness only intensifying. His team watches from afar, eyeballing you.

“I can remember any hot face, that girl was in the Aobajosai section!” Nishinoya says with a scrunched face. “A cute girl is a cute girl,” Tanaka shrugs. Hinata pushes through his friends so he can see better, and almost laughs at how tense his friend is standing. “Yeah but why is a cute girl talking to Kageyama?”

You take a deep breath and lean back on your feet. It really hadn’t occurred to you what you’d say beyond that, but you had to come up with something. “This may be a weird thing to ask, I don’t know cause i’ve never gone up to a guy like this. I also didn’t think about it as much as I should have-“ you abruptly stop, of course you just had to ramble. He didn’t know what to say, your beauty was intimidating but you can say the same about him.

“I’m y/n by the way, I should have said that first.” You hold out your hand for him to shake, and he takes it. His touch sends electricity through you, and makes your legs weak. One touch and you’re already going crazy, cute guys can be a curse sometimes. “Kageyama.”

You blush once you realize you’ve been holding his hand for way too long. “Sorry if this is weird to ask, but would you wanna, uh, maybe,” gosh you sound crazy, “meet up sometime?” Your immediate thought is he thinks you’re weird. Just now learned of his name and already asking to see him again. But this was your only chance, hopefully he understands that.

Kageyama chokes on the air a bit, totally not believing what’s happening. A pretty girl wants to hang out with him? Make time for him? Yep, this is a dream. He’ll be waking up any second now. His eyes are stuck on you, wide, and his mouth is slightly parted.

“Oh, nevermind. I’m sorry.” He’d been in his head too deep instead of answering your question. Pure embarrassment is on your face. “No, No! I’m sorry, I was just, uh,” he takes a deep breath and puts on a smile, “yes, i’d like to do that sometime.” There’s a huge smile on your face as you pull your phone out, “Well here, put your number in my phone.”

The team nearly yells when they see you hand Kageyama your phone. “I bet he’s giving her his number!” Sugawara says with a smirk on his lips. As soon as Kageyama tells you his goodbyes, he sees his friends nearly jumping up and down. “Did you give her your digits?!” Hinata yells, and you can hear it from where you stand.

A blush creeps onto the setters face, but tries to hide it with an annoyed look. “Mind your business,” is all he says. The boys ruffle at his hair and push him around a bit, making kissy noises all the way to the bus. It doesn’t let up until a few minutes into the ride when everyone’s knocked out. Kageyama’s phone vibrates in his pocket, waking him from his half-asleep state.

Hey, it’s y/n

[kingofhearts709]

Prompt: bill and ted give each other haircuts

hello yes im sorry this is late but this is adorable and im happy to write this excellent prompt ❤️

A/N: SO! this came out SO MUCH LONGER than i expected. like i was just gonna cute-drabble it but then my brain was like "NO PERFECT CONCEPT MUST EAT IT." snd I'm very happy to have written it all. im setting this at like pre-excellent adventure.

anyways i hope you have a lovely day and to please enjoy this little thing 💓"

---

Ted blew his bangs out of his face for the fifth time since he'd sat down on Bill's bed, trying to focus on his comic and finding the ultimate difficulty in reading between the long strands. His hair almost reached past his shoulders, and Missy's abandoned scrunchies were starting to look most intriguing.

Bill was no better. Every time he ran his fingers through his hair, they wound up tangled. There was no way he'd be able to handle brushing it every single morning, but the habit of messing with his hair was too ingrained.

"Dude, we need haircuts," Bill grumbled as his forefinger caught on a twisty piece of fringe. "I'm gonna look like a seventies disco dude." Ted snickered at that, and Bill thwacked his chest lightly. "Shut up, Ted, I'm serious."

"Well, my dad won't even pay for a good haircut," Ted huffed, dropping his comic book and blowing his bangs away once more. "If he did, it'd be a buzz." He paused for a moment before suggesting, "You don't suppose Missy could cut our hair?" Bill let out a laugh.

"I would be most doubtful of her skills."

"Okay, well... How much do haircuts cost?"

"More than we can afford." Ted frowned and looked down. "My dad would probably just tell me to cut my hair myself if I asked." It went silent for a moment before a lightbulb lit up in Ted's brain, and he bounced on the bed with enthusiasm.

"...Well, why don't we?"

"Why don't we what, dude?"

"Cut our own hair!"

The idea thrown out to the wind sounded more than insane. Neither of them knew the first thing about cutting each other's hair, let alone their own.

But the thing about Bill and Ted was that, as long as they did it together, it was more than enough reason to say why not?

"Ted, my friend, your idea is definitely most forward-thinking!" Bill complimented, jumping up. "We both know what each other's hair looks like, so we'll totally be able to replicate it!"

The wide grin on Ted's face was enough to break it, jumping up with Bill and looking around.

"I'll go get hair stuff," Bill said as he rushed towards the door. "You get a chair set up." Ted nodded as Bill bolted from the room, going to the corner to grab an old twisty chair that they never used. It still twisted, and was just about the right height for cutting hair, it seemed.

Ted was testing the chair by spinning in fast circles when Bill came back in with a pair of kitchen scissors and two huge towels. He swayed a little as he regained his normal vision from spinning, seeing that Bill was also carrying a spray bottle filled with water, a brush and comb, and a tube of hair product.

"I grabbed some other stuff from Missy's counter, too," Bill said as he dropped it all down on the bed. He picked up the tube and read it, "Something called...'Gar-near Fruck-tiss.' The instructions say it makes your hair smooth." Ted gave an intrigued head tilt before giving a nod and a smile.

"Well, dude, smooth me!" Ted joked, and Bill gave him a look before they found themselves air-guitaring.

Bill wrapped one of the towels around Ted's neck and shoulders, making sure he pulled his hair out from underneath. Bill leant down to assess it, squinting to see if it would help him decide on a course of correct action.

"How short should I cut it, dude?" Bill finally asked. Ted brought up a hand and hovered it palm down before holding it right where his chin ended as reference, and Bill nodded, picking up the spray bottle and spraying Ted's entire head all over until his hair went damp through.

"Bill, you are most concentrated," Ted hummed as Bill ran the comb through his hair to measure it down. It was already frayed from whenever his last haircut had been, it seemed. "Do you actually know what you're doing?"

"Uh...," Bill hummed, shrugging. "I used to watch my mom get her hair cut before when I was a little kid, I guess. They always wet your hair and then do this trippy snippy thing."

Ted snorted as Bill snipped the scissors a couple of times in the air before diving into Ted's hair, holding the length to cut off between his fingers and slowly scissoring away.

It was quiet while Bill worked on his hair, Ted doing his best to keep still, even if he really wanted to turn his head and see exactly what was happening. The only sounds filling the room were Bill walking around him and the snip of the scissors.

As soon as Bill cut off the last edge of Ted's hair, he stepped back and studied his work, furrowing his brows before grinning.

"Dude, I totally nailed you!" he exclaimed, and the redness to Ted's cheeks caused him to add on, "Uh- Your hair, I mean. It looks most bodacious." Ted looked around the room frantically for any reflection, and jumped when Bill held up a mirror in front of his face.

Bill really had done an excellent job. His hair was back to its regular length, hanging right around his chin. His bangs were still a problem, though, and he looked over at Bill and gestured to them.

"Oh, dude, yeah," Bill huffed as he dropped the mirror back where he'd grabbed it and picked up the scissors again. "Sorry, Ted, I forgot your main problem is your egregiously long bangs."

"They're like curtains for my face, duder," Ted hummed as Bill began to separate the bangs from the rest of his hair. He cursed when he grabbed too much of Ted's already-trimmed sections before Ted spoke up, "Oh, dude, grab one of Missy's scrunchies!" Bill raised a brow before following Ted's gaze to the bedside table, where about four of Missy's scrunchies were sitting. How they got there, Bill personally didn't want to think about it. Regardless, he went over to grab one and handed it over to Ted so he could pull his hair back and let Bill have full reign on his bangs.

"Where do they usually end?" he asked as he eyeballed possible measurements with his fingers. His face wasn't unreasonably close to Ted's, considering the circumstances, but it still made Ted nervous.

"Just, like, enough so I can see okay, I guess," Ted said, and Bill nodded as he took the comb and brushed his bangs even before sticking the handle in between his teeth and bringing the scissors up.

At this angle, Ted could see Bill's entire process as he watched his hair being snipped off. The way his face was scrunched in concentration, his gentle movements to make sure he wasn't tugging Ted's head any direction.

He didn't realise Bill was finished until he saw his reflection in the mirror when it was held up.

He looked good, if not better than before, with Bill's handiwork.

"How'd I do, dude?" Bill asked, and Ted reached up to touch his already drying hair. "Want me to put the Fruck-tiss in it?"

"Uh- Yeah, dude, sure." Ted looked over to see Bill grabbing the tube and opening it up, squirting a generous amount into his palm. "Do I have to wash it out?"

"Uh...," Bill turned the tube in his hand and scrunched his nose, shaking his head. "It says to leave in for fifteen minutes and your hair will be, 'smooth and sleek.'" He looked up. "Ready?"

"Yeah, Bill."

After a moment, Ted felt Bill's hands and fingers running right through his hair, keeping away from his scalp as per the instructions on the tube. It was smooth and gentle and overall intimate the way Bill paid careful attention to Ted's hair, running his fingers through. He might've put too much product in, but they could always wash it out if needed.

"Alright!" Bill said when the product was more or less incorporated. "You have been fully transformed into your most authentic self, my friend!"

"Dude, excellent!" Ted said as Bill took the towel off of him, trying not to get the hair everywhere (it already was, but that was beside the point). "My turn, Bill!" Ted stood up and took an exaggerated bow towards the twisty chair, gesturing for Bill to take a seat. Bill bowed back before dropping down and smiling.

Ted mimicked his actions from earlier, draping the towel around his neck and grabbing the spray bottle. However, Bill's hair was curly and almost like a jewfro, and he briefly wondered how he was going to cut it down.

"Dude, I don't think water is going to help," Ted said as he looked around at Bill's head. "You do have one stellar mullet now, but the rest is growing up." Hesitantly, he ran his fingers gently through Bill's curly hair, feeling just how insanely tangled it was. Bill briefly shivered at the motion, telling himself internally to just relax.

He'd already cut Ted's hair, so he should know what to expect, but still, the shock of actually feeling Ted's hands and fingers gave him the most unusual of feelings in his chest. He wasn't necessarily sure if they were nerves or emotions, but either way, it sent a shiver down his spine every time Ted's skin connected to him.

Bill bit the inside of his cheek as Ted stuck his tongue out and tested a single lock of hair, snipping off the end before grinning, nodding as he started to continue.

"Dude, it's like trimming a bush!" he laughed as he went all around, mimicking Bill once more by holding each lock between his fingers. Bill's blond hair fell and separated with each snip that the scissors gave. Ted's movements were slow and calculated, his genuine care for making sure he cut Bill's hair in the most correct way making Bill feel a little more than special.

It took Ted longer than it took Bill to finish up, giving a lock one last cut before jumping back and grinning as he crossed his arms.

"Dude, how is it?" Bill asked, gesturing. "Gimme that mirror!" Ted straightened up as he remembered, turning in a couple of circles before picking it up off the the bed and holding it up.

Ted hadn't done a terrible job, he had to admit. He turned his head back and forth, his smile growing as he saw Ted show up behind him in the reflection. He took a hand and ran it through his hair front to back.

It took Bill a second before he concluded that Ted forgot to cut off his mullet, and he grinned with a scoff.

"Dude, you totally missed the back," Bill said, his hand flipping the hair in Ted's view. Ted frowned as he stood up straight and tilted his head.

"Did I, dude?" he raised his eyebrows, reaching down to move Bill's away and examine it. "Bill, if I might be totally honest, you have always had this mullet, though I will admit it's much longer than normal..."

"No way, dude," Bill rolled his eyes in response. "Gimme those scissors." He reached back to grab the utensil from Bill's hand, a most dangerous risk. Ted, however, held back the pair with a grin.

"Dude, you'll be a total mullet-head!" Ted laughed as he turned and jumped up on the bed, knocking a couple of the items onto the floor. Bill spun around in his seat and looked at the scissors clasped wrong-way-up in Ted's fist.

Bill eyed him for a long moment before bolting up from the chair in a lunge, a total disregard for all those 'safety with scissors' rules from grade school. Ted leaped off the bed for the corner, Bill chasing him there. They could only run around in the small confines of Bill's room, so there weren't many places for Ted to go, nor space to make between himself and Bill.

It became apparent when Ted got onto the bed again and Bill fully tackled him so he had him trapped underneath.

Ted was still laughing even when Bill had him pinned by the wrists and was currently looking down on him with the most fondest of looks, a huge smile gracing his entire face.

"Dude," Ted said through chuckles as he flipped his newly cut bangs away from his eyes, "you look definitively bodacious with your mullet. I think you should keep it." Bill tilted his head.

"Ted, my friend, there is nothing in your head that could ever convince me." Ted let out a laugh before he looked at it over Bill's shoulder, comtemplating.

"I like it on you, dude."

It didn't take long for Bill's brain to immediately agree with that statement.

"You think so, dude?" Bill found himself asking, and Ted looked back to Bill's face, smiling with a nod.

"Most triumphantly." The words put a smile on his own lips, and the warm, butterfly-feeling in his chest was new but most definitely welcome as he squeezed Ted's wrists.

"Well, then, Ted, my most excellent and esteemed partner, I suppose I must keep it just for you."

[mashiraostail]

Yagi Shota Mic snd Fatgum w a curly haired s/o 👉👈 pls??

omg I really like this!! I have very curly hair so we love to see this, I feel like straight/wavy hair such a default in fic writing whenever i read about like running fingers smoothly thru your hair I cringe a little like no not my curl pattern. I’m gonna try to make it encompassing to multiple curl types! i’m personally 2c-3b but if you wanna resend with your hair type that’s totally cool! I’d be happy to redo it! Curly hair gang!

Yagi Toshinori: I think out of all of them he’d love it the most, tight coils, loose ringlets, or round spirals he’d love any texture. He’d always find them tantalizing and inviting and if he’s staring off into space he’s usually thinking about burying his nose in your hair or resting his cheek in it. Whenever you hugged or kissed his hands were always playing with it pulling the curl straight to watch it coil back into its natural shape or wrapping his finger around one rogue curl. He adores your curls, it was probably one of the first things he noticed when you met. Whenever he’s upset it’s always plenty relaxing to lay with you and muss up your curls. You’d huff at him, ‘Yagi come on it takes so long to get it under control-’ ‘I’m sorry I just can’t help it it’s so nice-’ But you really didn’t mind, and you rarely make him stop. You liked the feeling of his finger sliding into the center of a loose ringlet, or his thumb at your hairline as he presses the curls away from your face, depending on the length he’ll definitely enjoy watching you style it as well, and the scent of any product you use on it will definitely infatuate him overtime. The scent of coconut makes his nose turn red even when you’re nowhere to be seen, he finds it a little embarrassing. I just really picture Yagi loving curly hair, maybe his time in America turned him onto it, all curl types felt beachy and warm and made him think of sunshine and happy memories. He’ll always complement them. The first time he saw you fresh out of the shower, curls hanging looser and heavier around your head he probably choked out something mindless and silly like ‘hair...pretty-’ while his nose tinged dark red. 

Shota Aizawa: He finds himself being pretty indifferent to different hair and body types, thinking they all have their merits and pros and cons. That being said the longer you spend with him the more he’ll start to find himself a little infatuated with your hair as well. He likes it at all times yes, one-day post-wash when it’s tight and bouncy and still smells strongly like your shampoo is great, and he’ll want you close then too; but 3 or more days after a wash when ‘god I’ve just been so busy Sho...I really need to wash it..ugh..It doesn’t look too bad does it?’ and it was starting to show signs of needing a pick me up, when it was messy a little frizzy and when it smelled so much like you? He loved it most of all. Of course, he’d reassure you, ‘what? No,’ and he’d try not to sound so invested, ‘no it looks just like always, I thought you washed it yesterday..’ but he’d spend a little longer than usual looking at you. He really enjoys you in the mornings too, if you have looser more suggestible curls and you sleep on your side and now half of your hair is loose and pressed to your head and the other is springy and tight? Or when it’s just frizzy and tired looking from your pillowcase? It makes him feel so cozy and domestic and warm. He lives for those mornings. It also gets him to take a little bit better care of his own hair, that man definitely had split ends to the max, Hizashi would beg him to just try a repairing shampoo as a treat but he’d usually shrug the other man off. You could talk him into most things though, and when you came home with something that you’d ‘bought for yourself but didn’t like’ he’d use it since it was there anyways and he wasn’t picky. Like Yagi he enjoys the way your products smell and something about the texture of your hair makes him sleepier than usual, if you’re in private he’ll definitely want you to lay on his chest so he and press his face into your hair and get some much-needed stress relief.

Hizashi Yamada:  Yagi may be the most lovesick for it, but Hizashi definitely knows the most about it. This man is the CEO of self-care. Like Aizawa he usually doesn't find himself with much of a preference for body and hair types, however, like Yagi, your hair definitely caught his attention during your first meeting. He spends a lot of your early relationship watching you style it after showers, or while you get ready for the day; he picks up a lot. He’ll even offer to help you some mornings if you look especially tired or sick of dealing with it (he’s probably talked you out of buzzing your whole head a few times, not that he wouldn’t like it, but he knows you’re letting your emotions make you brash). Watching you play with it, especially tucking it behind your ears or twirling it around your finger really kind of maybe turns him on a little (lot). There’s something so enticing about your hair to him, he wants to feel it against his bare skin in numerous ways, feeling it against his chest or shoulder when you’re cuddling (or otherwise) is the definition of a good time for him, it drives him insane. He’s also probably the most respectful of it, he knows the amount of work that can go into a head of hair like yours, he thinks you're naturally lovely but he also grasps that you spend a lot of time enhancing that natural loveliness with products and styling. So at first, he’s probably hesitant to go overboard on the touching and pulling and wrapping around his fingers, until you assure him; 'You can play with it, I don’t mind Hizashi. You aren't going to ruin it.' After you explain whatever he does can be undone or fixed with some water and effort, as long as he promises to help, and trust he doesn’t mind, he gets a lot more comfortable with the touching and playing sometimes he goes overboard just so he can spend more time touching it while he ‘helps you fix it’.

Taishiro Toyomitsu: Close second to most smitten over your hair. It feels like the minute he sees you he’s overflowing, gushing with compliments he can hardly hold them back. ‘They’re like that all on their own??’ ‘Well sometimes they need a little coaxing.’ He’s is always a total sucker for you sure, but he’s especially a sucker for your hair. If you twist it around your finger and say 'please, Tai?' There’s very little left in this world that you couldn’t have. Also very like Yagi he associates your hair with sunshine and fuzzies and happiness. He thinks a nice head of bouncy curls is just one of the happiest looking things in the world. If you have the energy to really style your hair properly he can already tell you’re having a good day, and that makes him happy. He’s always leaning his head on it, ‘like got my own pillow following me around all day.’ ‘looks like we’re just a couple of pillows huh Tai?’ Similar to Aizawa, a bad hair day doesn’t exist in Taishiro’s eyes. He loves seeing your sleepy frizzy hair, your mismatched bed-heads, and your, ‘this product ruined my life’ heads. He adored it all, and he always reassured you. 'It doesn’t look like usual huh? It looks bad, doesn’t it? I don’t know what to do. I have a meeting later I can’t go like this-' He hated watching you scrutinize it in the mirror. ‘Different doesn’t mean it looks bad.' He only frowned at you when you were being hard on yourself, 'come on, stop staring at it that’s not gonna make you like it, let’s go get you loved on and then maybe it’ll grow on ya.’ Somehow you always do like it afterward. 

[ellieaelious]

Coin trick

A/N: Do I even roleplay anymore?

A few were still gathered 'round to watch as this small woman chugged another bottle of wine effortlessly. What started as a game to see how many she could drink before it'd be easier to take her out back, turned into a competition on who could outdrink her. So far, no one.

In the dimly lit corner of the bar, Erron watched the spectacle unfold. Eye barely visible as it peeked out from under the brim of his hat. It was hard to tell if he wore a snear or smirk across his lips. Bringing his whiskey to them, he finished the glass and set it down before pushing himself up and away from the table.

The bar seemed to grow quiet as his spurs jingle jangled over the live music. Those sober enough stepped to the side, while the dunker ones crawled. He came upon her slowly, stopping at the bow vacant seat next to her. He brought his hand up to his hat, lifting and moving it slightly to adjust and tip it towards her.

"Awfully unbecoming of a priest, ain't it?" There was a twinge of venom in his tone. He hadn't forgotten her comments towards him from earlier that day.

Ellie spun around on her stool, hips first and body following. Her eyelids were a little heavier and her lips were parted, puckered just a bit in her intoxicated state. Her eyes focused on him, the muffled sound of his voice growing louder and clearer as the music died down.

"I am allowed the nectar of flowers and berries." She grinned with closed eyes, scooping up an empty wine bottle and hugging it close to her.

"Think that's enough."

He reached forward, his hand barely grazing her arm as he reached for the full bottle still sitting on the bar. That was enough to cause a rather violent chain reaction from the drunken healer priest. Her foot pushed against the barstool beside him, into his gut and making him stagger back a good foot. Her eyes held a drunken, yet threatening gaze as she tilted back, somehow balancing on two legs of her own stool.

"The hell with this." He thought to himself, tossing the stool to the side and marching towards her with purpose.

The healer took the full bottle and turned it up, gulping down the dark purple liquid. He paused as he watchrd her, eyes drawn to her throat. It was all one gulp, not even a pause for air. He was brought back by the sound of her slamming the bottle on the bar and giving a holler of excitement. The music started back up, and a crowd formed around her once more.

---

He was calling it an early night. Cards didn't seem that fun when he could hear the drunken giggles and laughter not even a full twenty paces from him. One last hand won and he began collecting his winnings. One coin in particular seemed to catch his eye.

Silver through and through. Odd markings and an even odder weight and size to it. He tossed it into the air a few times before rolling it back and forth across his knuckles a few times.

Dark and drunken eyes cought the glint of the coin out of their corners, causing Ellie's whole head to move towards that direction. Her whole upper body seemed to sway with the coin, hypnotized by it almost. This wasn't lost on the cowboy, as he noticed around the third go round. He paused watching her pause with it, then began flicking it into the air with his thumb. She almost fell out her seat as she followed it.

Wasn't sure how he was sitting at the bar next to her, but there he was, rolling the coin right in front of her and watching the amusement in her eyes. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, head resting in the palm of his free hand. He almost forgot what a complete bitch she was sober.

Ellie tried to reach for the coin, ending up leaning too far forward and almost falling into his lap. She could feel one hand on her side and another on the side of her neck, sliding to the back of her head while the other snaked its way around to her back, hand cupping the area where to buttcheek met her thigh. With a grunt she was hoisted into Erron's lap, rather onto his thigh, face firmly pressed against his neck.

"That hell ya'll lookin' at?" His tone was dark as the small group left in the bar went about their business.

For the first time in many years, he had a hard time keeping his hand steady. His immediate response to where one hand was placed woulda normally been to grip that area hard enough to make his partner's hips buck into him. His other hand couldn't help but grip the back of her head as he felt her skin move against his, body squirming to find a balance on his thigh. If anyone noticed the display, they sure as hell weren't going to comment on it.

With a heavy breath he slid her back into her own seat, adjusting his position in his own as well. He kept one hand gripping her collar to keep her steady, the other taking the half empty bottle one wine to his lips for a swig. The man needed to steady his nerves. There seemed to be a change in his demeanor when he set the bottle down, his eyes burning a hole into the green glass.

"Let's let you outta here before ya end up in someone else's lap."

He knelt down, shoulder pressing against her stomach and arm wrapped around her. His other hand found that little groove between her thigh and cheek, this time gripping it as he hoisted her onto his shoulder. Adjusting his hat, he strode out of the bar with her and towards home. There wasn't much fuss from the drunken priest.

---

With a grunt he let her slide off his shoulder snd onto his bed. He wasn't sure why he brought her here and not the palace or her ship. Maybe to save her some dignity of being hauled in, maybe it was the desire burning inside his stomach. It'd been there for a while, at least a few months. Ever since she did her magic touch to his wrists. He let out a shuddered breath as he walked over to the side of the bed and reached down towards her.

He made sure her head was on a pillow, and the blanket was pulled up over her. He wasn't some fiend who would take advantage of someone sexually, not like the person who did this to her.

---

There was a mighty strong whiskey mixed in with her wine, probably gradually so she wouldn't notice. The drink he took tasted like it was nearly all whiskey. No wonder she went from rattlesnake to baby bunny.

"Ya'll are a sorry buncha stalkers. Even sorrier buncha woulf be rapists."

His voice called into the night. The footsteps of a small group, the one that had been crowding her all night, sounded as they stepped from the shadows. They each carried a weapon of sorts, meanin' to do the cowboy harm if he didn't hand over Ellie no doubt.

"I don't reckon he would agree with ya'll's intent, bein'a priest 'n what not." He reasoned, hands not yet near his pistols.

"Hand the priest over." One snarled like an animal, taking a step forward.

Only took him five shots to take down all of 'em. Their bodies hit the ground and blood began to pool out. With a single spin he holstered his revolver and went on his way. He had one more bullet left for one more person.

It'd been a hot minute since he'd given a beating like this one. The bartender sputtered pleads of forgiveness through bloody gums and heavy sobs. Erron was seeing nothin' but red though, and nothin' on earth or in heaven coulda stopped him. His boot connected with the bartender's jaw, making sure he wouldn't have anything else to say.

"I seen your wife and kids come outta that ship for treatment. Patched 'em up without ever askin' a thing in return, and here you are spikin' his drinks all night."

The sole of bis boot pressed down on the bartenders head, squeezing as he put more of his weight into it. The sobbing grew louder and louder and Erron sneared in displeasure.

"Least ya could do is die like a man."

His gun was drawn, fired, and back in his holster in no time. A snort and scoff before he spit on the body and made his way out of the bar, flipping a coin on his way out that landed in a filled shot glass.

---

Walking into his home with a sigh, it looked like he wouldn't be getting much sleep tonight. He rubbed the back of his neck as he walked into his room to check on El--oh.

She musta gotten hot, because her pants were around her ankles and vest wide open, revealing that she was indeed female. He felt his face heat up as he stared for a moment, shocked. All this time, with the way her uniform fit he'd thought for sure that she was actually a he. If not a bit on the feminine side. That explained why there was such a crowd around her all the time.

This revelation didn't change much in how Erron saw her, other than the fact he was seeing quite a lot of her now. With a slight shake of his head he walked over and helped to remove her boots and pants, laying them at the foot of the bed for her. His eyes trailed up her legs, smirking as they fell on the little silk bow on her boyshorts underwear. The urge to trace it and the skin along the edge of her underwear was strong, yet he resisted despite his hand hovering for a moment.

"Mmmm."

He paused as his hand hovered over her stomach, thinking she was waking up and he'd have to explain himself. Luckily she was only shifting. He sighed, eyes going back to her skin. As her stomach heaved, it felt like cool breath falling over his hand. He let it linger for a moment before reaching down and pulling her vest closed. Had she shifted anymore he'd have another eye full of her.

He slumped into a chair in the corner, sighing and giving her one last look. It was hard not to join her, letting his rough hands tear and claw at what appeared to be smooth skin. Teeth sink into her collar bone while other parts of him would sink deep into her other parts. But he was a better man, at lesst in this respect, than the ones he'd just killed. He wouldn't even allow himself self pleasure so long as she was there. He did have self control.

Adjusting his hat over his eyes, he leaned back and began drifting off. It felt a little calmer having her only ten feet away, although no doubt the morning would be filled with a tussle.

[ghostly-flame]

Re-Established (pt. 2)

It had been a couple more days since the night they figured she had gone missing. It brought unease to everyone, growing moreso as the school started to acknowledge their missing student and began putting safety precautions up. Her face was posted around the school, with bulky letters underneath that read 'missing'. Students all around talked about the sudden loss of one of their peers, even going to the five boys to see if they were okay. When the news covered missing children, it was agonizing to see her face as one of them.

It was pure hell.

The stress of losing her partially subsided after so long. It gave everyone a chance to think clearly, as they hadn't been able to come up with an idea since it was announced she was missing. They spent more time together, trying to see if there were any leads online. Reigen even came in to help try and research for her, but nothing turned up. All she was was another face to the world.

"Is there anything we can do?" Ritsu asked after sitting in the silent room for so long. "No internet leads, no further reports on her, its like she's been forgotten." Shou answered, bending his pencil until it snapped in half.

"Then how about you look at it from another perspective?" Serizawa asked as he and Reigen walked in the older Kageyama's room with chai tea for them.

"What do you mean?" Teru asked, taking a drink of the warm beverage.

"I wish we thought of this sooner, I guess it's just been so long since we really had to use them... But we're espers. We should look from the perspective of one. I'm sure if we try hard enough, we can use our powers to find her!"

"While the optimism is nice, I tried," Takenaka spoke up tiredly, "her voice has gone silent. There's no way we can find her with these abilities." He looked to his hands and shook his head, then covered his face again. "Well, maybe. But I've worked alongside Shimazaki for years. He probably forgot about it himself in the midst of losing..." Serizawa went quiet as he remembered it was still a touchy situation. With a shake of the head, he and Reigen shared a glance.

"You boys try to relax. Its not good to be so stressed at your age." Reigen explained.

"Easier said than done," Ritsu snapped back.

"We'll go talk to them and see how things are."

The couple left the house and began the walk down the street. They talked about the situation at hand and possible reasons behind the girl's disappearance, but nothing pieced together or even made sense for that matter.

Eventually reaching the house, Reigen knocked on the door and opened it. Looking around, the house was still in fair shape. They entered the home and glanced around.

"Minegishi? Shimazaki?" Serizawa called out as he walked ahead of Reigen. He went into the hall and looked at the doors, opening each one to look into the room as he hadn't really done much visiting to their house. But, after reaching the last door in the hall, he opened it and saw the couple in bed. They were awake, but didn't do much except lay there. Trash was collected on the floor, and the blankets were strung across the floors. It broke his heart to see the ones he was close with, so distraught.

"Hey, how're you feeling?" He asked, stepping over to the two. Their skin was paler than usual, like they hadn't moved from the bed since that day. But, as he received no response, the male let out a soft sigh and leaned over to Shimazaki. Grabbing his arm gently, he pulled him to sit up before bringing Minegishi up.

"You guys can't give up on her!" He exclaimed, voice raising as he spoke. They both jolted at his sudden yelling. "Your daughter needs you two! So get up, I have an idea that could possibly help us." He stated, then walked over to their closet. He pulled out clean clothes and tossed them to the two before going out to the living room and taking a seat. He glanced over to see Reigen looking at him with somewhat surprised.

After a few minutes, the two males came out of their room and looked to the other couple on the couch. Once they were ready, the four began their trek back to Shigeo and Ritsu's house.

"We've worked together for so long. I know what you guys are capable of. I wish I thought of this sooner, but Shimazaki," Serizawa began as he glanced to the male, "you've got quite the strong ability. Did you forget about it?" He glanced to the male, who held a surprised look as he was addressed. For a moment, he was confused as to what he meant. Then he felt the realization hit, as well as an undeniable amount of guilt as he realized exactly how long it took.

"Mind's Eye..." He muttered under his breath. Minegishi looked at him for a moment, then understood what he meant. "Its... Been awhile since we've really needed our powers. I usually just use mine to restock the plants," he rubbed the back of his neck and looked to his feet as he walked along. "It's reasonable to forget about your powers, considering you don't use them in your daily lives like some," Reigen reasoned as they got back to the Kageyama household. Once they walked inside, they saw the boys all about, doing their own thing.

"Alright, so here's my plan," Serizawa began as they were all gathered back into the living room.

"If we can all put our powers together, maybe we can amplify Shimazaki's ability to seek out other espers. I'm not saying it'll work, but so far, its all we've got. She could be in Seasoning City, but we wouldn't know."

"Then why can't I hear her?!" Takenaka stated, staring at the man. "If she's in the city, then I should be able to hear her!" He was having a difficult time trying to keep it together, but he was exhausted. Without her voice rambling nonsense at the late hours of the night, he couldn't help but feel uneasy at night.

"There might be something that's blocking your telepathy. I don't know if it's true or not, but I've seen espers who can block things out with their powers. Which is why we should try to amplify Shimazaki's powers. He's already strong enough as is, so we might have a chance. It's better than nothing," as the man explained the situation, the teen shook his head and sat back. He took a breath to settle his nerves, then slowly nodded with a sigh.

"Alright, let's give it a shot."

"You show quite resistance for someone who's easy to influence." Muto's voice sounded out through what she was being shown. She blinked a few times and shook her head before opening her eyed snd finding herself back in the empty room. The lights made her head ache, as she was used to little to no lighting in the room.

Squinting a bit, Cookie pressed back against the chair and let out a shaky sigh. The pain in her chest still hadn't gone away, but she wasn't worried for the most part. As she noticed her flames didn't grow far past the size of a match, she figured there was something that blocked out her powers. She tried to use her powers all throughout the night, but the barrier never let up, so she just kept at it with her small flames. Her telekinetic ability wasn't strong enough to go against the metal bindings, so she wasn't at any sort of advantage.

"Quiet, hm?" He brought her out of her thoughts. She let out a low sound and took a deep breath.

"It won't be long before you're part of us, girl." The voice rang through her mind, bringing a whole new spur of horrible thoughts. Her eyes shot open as she tried to focus her vision. Everything was so blurry, but she could faintly make out the man walking out of the room. As soon as the door slammed shut, she felt tears start to well up in her eyes as she thought about what she'd be like had she actually been apart of their organization. The thoughts mixed with the impossible idea of hurting her friends only made the pain increase more, leaving her to start sobbing as she sat there.

She was doing all she could to keep herself sane, from the visions that plagued her mind. It was hard, but she kept thinking of her loved ones. She tried to calm down but her happy thoughts were starting to be replaced with more horrifying visions, causing more tears to run down her cheeks as she kept muttering 'no' under her breath.

"Can you see anything?"

Shimazaki glanced around. It was dark all around, but the glowing auras coming from the espers around him were all he could see. Rubbing his face, he shook his head as he looked around further. Distant auras were around, showing that there were many espers around. After so long with the girl, he could distinguish her aura from any other, no matter how similar the colors were. However, his sliver of hope was slowly starting to shatter as he couldn't find that lavender glow anywhere.

"Try harder, it's only showing in close range," he told the group. Two hands became six as he felt the strength of his power grow. It wasn't something he was used to, but if it could help them find the missing part of their family, he was more willing to do anything possible.

He shook his head again and looked out. There was a huge flurry of auras in the distance.

"Do you see it?" Shigeo's voice asked next to him.

"I do. Do you think...." He trailed off as dread chilled him to the bone. The man swallowed hard as he closed his eyes snapping out of it. As soon as he felt their hands move away from his arms, he turned his head to the other three adults and let out a deep breath he had been holding.

"I don't think it's gonna be easy to get her back," he told them.

"Why, what did you two see?" Minegishi asked, feeling hope that Ryou had found her.

"Its... Hard to tell exactly, but there were so many auras." Shigeo explained.

"And in the middle of all that, I could see hers."

"You don't think..."

"It could be a possibility because we never got word from a handful of their whereabouts."

"What are you guys talking about?" Reigen asked, placing his hands on his hips. "Claw might be still going, even without Touchiro running it." Minegishi stated. "Why would that happen?" Ritsu pondered.

"Well, when you have devotion and loyalty to someone, you'd do what you can. Or maybe they're trying to re-establish it for themselves," Serizawa answered as he gripped the cuffs of his suit tightly.

"Then we need a plan,"

"Easy, I'll teleport in there and get out." Shimazaki claimed. "That won't be easy, or safe. There was something happening in the middle of her aura, I don't know what it was, but it's not safe." Shigeo told him after grabbing his arm, "I think we should find the place and see what's going on before we make any moves." There was silence amongst the group befoee the man sighed.

"Alright, but we need to hurry."

"Two of us can go around that area and figure out what's surrounding it. Then we'll come back and make a plan and carry out as soon as possible." Minegishi explained, then looked to his husband. "We don't know where it is, so either you or kid have to go and bring someone with you as backup."

"I'll go with Mob," Reigen offered, then walked over and placed a hand on the kid's shoulder. "We have an investigation around that area, anyways. So we'll go! Just like old times, right, Mob?" He looked to the boy who has grown much taller over the years.

"Right."

Later that night, everyone waited at their separate homes, although packed to go to Shimazaki and Minegishi's house once they got word that the two were on their way home.

"So, do you see anything?" Reigen asked as he walked down the sidewalk with the boy. Shigeo looked around, then noticed a building. Although it looked like a normal apartment complex, he could tell there was something off with it. Pulling his hood further over his head, he stopped and faced the building. He lifted his hand used a small amount of power to see if thats all that it was. But, it showed him that there was some sort of barrier that blocked his abilities from even leaving his hand. Putting his hand back in his pocket, he looked to Reigen again and nodded towards the building.

"That's it. Let's head back." He explained shortly. The man nodded in agreement after glancing at the building. "We'll finish walking down the street and turn the corner," Reigen spoke up. As the other agreed to it, they continued their walk to avoid any suspicious activity. Once they rounded the block, the man called a taxi to get them back home.

"There's a barrier that's blocking powers," Mob explained once everyone was gathered at the house. "So, we might not be able to rely on our powers for this. I did notice an alley next to the building, so there may be a way in. Other than that, we may have to call for backup. I know just who to call," the boy excused himself and walked out of the room, going through the hall and to another room so he could talk better.

"Whatever plan we come up with, I want to be able to kick someone's ass." Shimazaki stated, leaning back against the couch. "I think we all want to do that, Shima." Minegishi explained, grabbing his hand and holding it tightly. "Whoever was behind all this, especially them." He clenched his free hand into a fist as Mob walked back into the room.

"They'll be here early in the morning, my backup." He spoke up to the rest of the group. "Then in meantime, we should try to get rest. Won't be any good to fight if we're tired." Reigen claimed before walking off to the hall. He came back with pillows and blankets, handing them to the kids, then to Serizawa. The couple of the household agreed and retreated to their room to get rest for the events that'd be happening the following day.

Although, after a couple of hours, sleep was impossible for Shigeo. He tossed and turned on the pallet made on the floor. Eventually, he sat up and pulled his blanket and pillow into his arms. Getting to his feet, the boy walked to the hall and down a few doors to the girl's room. He hesitated for a moment, then turned the doorknob and opened the door to the room. To his surprise, he saw Takenaka sitting on the floor with his back pressed up to Cookie's bed. Though, when he heard the door open, he jumped and looked to who was there.

"Oh, hey." He mumbled, feeling himself relax almost immediately. "Can't sleep either?" Shigeo asked, walking over and sitting next to him.

"Of course not. How can I?"

"I feel the same. It's so hard to sleep, knowing something bad is happening. Makes you wanna run out and go help now..."

"Definitely."

The two sat there and talked for awhile, before Shou, Teru, and Ritsu came in with the same reasons. They all tried to feel better with funny stories, but the negative feelings were still there.

"She still has this shirt?!" Ritsu pulled out a shirt from the girl's closet. Turning around, he showed them it had been his favorite Spider-Man shirt from middle school. The group of boys started to laugh at the idea, then came over and joined him in digging through her clothes, finding things that previously belonged to them when they were younger and much more smaller.

"Hey, here's her pride jacket." Shou pulled the multi-colored varsity jacket and showed the rest of the group. "Hey, I brought mine too." Teru gasped, taking the clothing from the other. "I think we all did? Me and Nii-san did, definitely." Ritsu glanced to the others and they had agreed.

"Then let's show some pride and wear them tomorrow." Takenaka stated with a small smile. They all agreed and pulled their jackets out of their bags, laying them all on the bed.

After awhile of talking, the five boys managed to fall asleep with hope in their hearts to save their missing friend. They made a pallet with their blankets and slept close together, anticipating the events that would come the next morning.

[silentbeauty1997]

A letter to my little brother,

I don’t know where to start . I’ve written snd rewritten this so many times . I don’t think I’ll ever have the right words to say . We used to be so close . Idk maybe that was the problem. We had our own world . It was safe to only rely on each other or in our case you relied on me more than I did you . So much has gone wrong in just the last 6 years. You are still the same . You never liked the truth . You still don’t . You were never the same after I started seeing Cody. You told me I was no better than our mother . You said I “abandoned you and left you alone to survive on your own.” At the time I thought you were just acting out because I left . Now I know it’s because you feel like I’ve completely left you alone in the world to deal with things . It wouldn’t matter how many times I said I’m sorry because truth is I’m not sorry for having my own life . I guess that’s my weakness . Helping my family even if it hurts me . You think we’re playing some game. “Who can hurt the other the most” truth is if it were a game. You would be winning. You’ve hurt mean more than I’ve hurt you. Your inability to let go of the past makes you toxic. You still think life has no consequences for you. You are about to lose your family and you don’t seem to care. Another hard truth you care more about weed than literally your own kid. You’ve fallen victim to your addiction. For so long you don’t think there is a problem. I wish you could see the world through different eyes.

You have done so much damage I would be in the right to walk away and never talk to you again. I can’t do that. The good in me wants to believe you’ll change for your son since you could not do it for you. That truly breaks my heart . You say time and time again you never hurt any of us . I don’t think you can even comprehend let alone feel anything for what you did . I always blamed myself for our relationship being so bad. I never gave you enough credit. I gave you too much credit in all reality. What hurts the most? You took one of the most traumatic times in life and rub my inability in my face. You always say “you hate me because I can have a kid and I have a family . I have everything you ever wanted.” Who doesn’t want a family of their very own?

You hurt me . More than our own mother did . You think me struggling to survive is a grab for attention. You make it very hard . You will never see this so I can say whatever I want . I’ll continue to be respectful. I hate we can never be civil. I try so hard to be a good older sister but you make it impossible. So much so you made me believe the worst insecurities about myself everyone see and thinks about me too.

I could go on and on but in all reality I just needed to get it off my mind because it’s been driving me crazy. I hope you all the best in life . I hope you change . I hope you grow up for your son. I hope you cut the bullshit . I’m sorry you don’t want to watch me succeed the way I want you too. I am truly happy for you . I love you , but I love myself more and I value my sanity more. I hope you change .

Love always,

Your older sister …..☹️💔

[declanfs]

September 17,2021

Kind of some big changes here. We are fully committed to cosleeping at the moment, for naps and bedtime. It’s the only way you’ll get any sleep, and I’ll get any sleep, at all. Sometimes I try to sneak away when you’re asleep, but usually you wake up before I can disentangle our legs. Sometimes thats really hard because there’s so much to do to keep our house looking nice, and I feel bad that Dan has to take on so much. But other times, like right now, when your little hand is resting on my side, your legs are comfortably nestled into mine, and you’re in the process of drifting off into dreamland, I think it’s a little sad that not everyone snuggles their babies this way.

I remind myself, usually when you’re asleep, how grateful I am that I’m doing these hard things now to solidify our bond. Maybe I could leave you in a crib to cry and you’d sleep through the night, but I fear you would only learn that I’m not listening to your cries. I could probably try to thicken up a night time bottle with cereal or just switch to formula so that you’d be fuller longer and sleep more, but you are still so little. Maybe these night wakings are protecting you extra against Covid. I’m pretty sure waking up at night is what we are biologically meant to do, and it’s only relatively recently that babies have been forced on to the schedules of adults. Since I have the time, I really can’t complain. These are days, and nights, that are somewhat limited. This will not last forever in any sense. You are already growing bigger every day and you mystify me with how much you are learning and developing.

I never did the 4 month post, I’m just a week late though so here it is:

26.5 inches long, 13ish pounds

Loves: cosleeping, walking outside, being outside, reaching for and grabbing things to put in your mouth, chewing on anything that will fit in your mouth, reading books (and trying to put those in your mouth), spending time with dada -your face lights up!, touching faces, grabbing your toes, trying to roll over, watching Bella chase the ball inside and outside, all the pets actually (you’ve petted them all!), your crinkle books, helping me brush my teeth, being sung to! The ants go marching and down by the bay are two of your faves. You also love to try to grab my bowl or plate, and sometimes you even manage to hook your fingers on to it!

Hates: riding in the car seat with no one in the back seat, sometimes diaper changes, coming inside, getting out of the tub

You can: hang out in tummy time pretty reliably now. You’ve started swimming and you’ve rolled over, front to back and back to front, a few times, but you haven’t mastered those yet. You can put your toes in your mouth, you can make all kinds of sounds: shrieking, mmm, ahhh, cooing, little giggles.

Tonight you sat up in the bath for first time (with help), snd I don’t think you’re going to enjoy baths laying down anymore. It was too fun to reach for everything! You also have started sitting up in the assisted chair thing AND standing in a doorway bouncer thing for a few minutes at a time. Youre great at controlling your head, so now we just have to build that core strength!

We are also trying to cue music with certain changes. Morning wake up: here comes the sun (Beatles)

Bedtime: dream a little dream (my version)

Bedtime books: goodnight construction site, goodnight Little blue truck, llama lllama red pajama, and maybe goodnight moon. But goodnight moon is a weird book, I’m not sure about it yet.

Today we went on a 6.5ish mile hike at lake Anna state park. It was very hard and I’m sore. You did an awesome job in the carrier, all things considered, and I think shorter hikes in the future will go even better!

[dxmedstudent]

do you think ai will take over the role of a physician in the near future? i’m in high school and i want to go into medicine but i don’t want to be stuck jobless if ai makes an md obsolete

Hello!

That’s an interesting question. And before I give you my opinion on it, we’ll talk a bit about what the prevailing opinion is.

There’s been a lot of talk about which jobs AI might replace, and for good reason. Technology is constantly innovating, and eventually AI might be able to do more of the things that people have traditionally carried out. So there’s been some research into this.

And interestingly, medicine (physicians and surgeons) are actually among the 10 jobs least likely to be replaced by AI. I’ve added some sources at the bottom of the post, because I’m on mobile.

So that’s what research suggests. But you asked me what I think about it. For some reason, I hear a lot of talk about how robots and algorithms are going to replace doctors. I’m not entirely sure why people single out *doctors* as more replaceable than most other jobs, when there are many other jobs that require fewer skills. Or that are repetitive. Or where people might not miss having a personal touch. I’d argue that if doctors are replaceable, probably almost every other job is. In which case we will have much bigger problems.

People need human interaction. They don’t just go to the doctor for a diagnosis or some pills, they go to have their story heard. Their feelings acknowledged. To be reassured or to be comforted and to be supported through their illness. We diagnose and we treat (as part of a wider team), but we are more than an algorithm for diagnoses or drugs.

We’re a face, the face of kindness and understanding. Someone who patients, when things go well, feel they can confide to. When we feel sick and vulnerable, I don’t believe that many people would prefer a machine. If soneone is being diagnosed with a serious illness, or their loved one has cancer, or they are dying, would they really find comfort in being cared for by a machine? I would not. I think that we put something of our self and our humanity into our job, and I feel that is not easily replaced.

People also appreciate the feeling that they, as reasonable people, can reason with someone. We as doctors have protocols snd first line medications, but we adapt the treatment to the patient, when required. Would most people really prefer to deal with an algorithm? What if the “computer says no”? Most of us find dealing with machines frustrating as it is. People get frustrated when a doctor doesn’t prescribe them antibiotics or the medication they expected, but would that be better tolerated if it came from an algorithm? I suspect not. People are complicated; even if an algorith would be ‘better’ (and I’m not sure it would), would it be better tolerated? The peoplewatcher in me thinks that most people would still crave the human connection.

In medicine, someone also still needs to ultimately take responsibility. Would people really like their life or death decisions to be dictated by robot? Would we feel sure that the algorithm is right? Who will take responsibility if something goes wrong? The manufacturer? Looking at what happens when self-driving cars go wrong, and the complex and painful situations that follow, I find it hard to believe that people would really be OK with complex decisions to really be decided purely by algorithms. Not only do people wish for a face, they also sometimes have a need for someone to focus their feelings on. I’m not saying that this is our role as doctors, to be there to take blame. But we live and work knowing that we are responsible for our actions. This is not always easy, particularly when the circumstances are difficult. When we think about how humans process, human nature finds it easier to blame humans than systems. Even when systems are at fault. I do wonder how we as people would adapt to working more with AI. Would we prefer it if we met with failing people or failing systems?

Right now, the system won’t even let someone go home from hospital without a doctor writing a note, and won’t let a medication be given without a doctor signing off on it; treatment will still always have to rely on someone with knowledge making sure the right thing happens. To do that, we’d still need to train someone in diagnostic skills. They’d probably still need to see the patients to be sure. And to truly know, they would have to get lots of experience; these are skills you do not learn from a book alone. Would we prefer that person to be kept away from patients? Their skills would not develop if a computer ran the show, and yet you need someone like them to confirm it is running well. Just like a consultant oversees junior doctors.

I think that medicine will, like many jobs, have to adapt as technology evolves. As a field that constantly changes, we’re already used to adapting new technologies as best as we can. There is always room for improvement, and I hope we can continue to work to do our best by patients with the help of new technologies, rather than pit ourselves against them.

The world will have many important challenges ahead for us all.

I can’t say what direction medicine will go in, in the future. Or how we’ll need to adapt. I don’t think we’d be able to predict exactly how things will turn out, just like our parents and grandparents and forebears probably didn’t envision a future like our present.

It’s scary, picking out a plan for your future, particularly since we can’t predict everything. Being a youngster, trying to carve out the best path for yourself whilst still trying to work out who you are growing up to be, brings its own challenges, on top of whatever the emergence of new technology will bring.

But we can do our best to adapt when the future comes. Each of us chooses as best as we can; I wish you all the best luck in making your own way, whatever you choose.

Sources (or rather, articles in UK newsoapers which discuss the results of the research):

https://www.theguardian.com/us-news/2017/jun/26/jobs-future-automation-robots-skills-creative-health

http://www.cityam.com/258446/10-jobs-youre-most-and-least-likely-replaced-robot

[takemeawaytocamelot]

Red Jamie and the White Lady - Part 20

Holy. Crap. You guys. This is the TWENTIETH chapter of RJWL!!! I can’t even tell you how shocked I am that this story has made it so far. It wouldn’t be here without you wonderful supporters and readers. So thank you so so so so much for all your comments. @diversemediums is amazing as always, convincing me this chapter was actually good as it was snd I didn’t need to scrap it. :D

Catch up on chapter 19 HERE

Claire sat quietly beside Murtagh in the cab, watching the streets of Paris pass by. She’d never been to Paris before. There was a vague memory of an early childhood dream to visit Paris with her true love and kiss beneath the Eiffel Tower. Maybe she could persuade Murtagh to let Jamie out for one night and they’d sneak over there. No, she sighed, that would put him in too much danger and that was too much to risk.

When the cab came to a stop, Murtagh exited first and helped her with her bag, eyes constantly moving.

“Does he know we’re coming?”

“Nae. Couldna risk him tellin’ someone the lad’s location. But, if Willie’s research is still accurate, he’ll help ye.”

She nodded, suddenly feeling incredibly nervous. There was so much at stake: what if she couldn’t learn anything? For a moment, she worried that her breakfast would come back up with the way her stomach was roiling. Thankfully it remained where it was.

The door of the herbalist’s shop opened and a dark skinned young woman smiled at them.

“Madame? Monsieur?”

“Je cherche Maître Raymond.”

A loud thud had the woman rolling her eyes before motioning them inside.

“Bonne après-midi,” Claire said as a small frog-like man approached them.

He looked her up and down with a keen eye.

“You are English, yes?” the man asked in French.

Claire nodded sheepishly.

“My French betrays me,” she said.

“Ah! Then I will make this easier for you. What is it that I can do for you, Madonna?”

She frowned at him for a moment.

“Monsieur,” Murtagh said gruffly. “Have ye a private place that we might speak freely? Somewhere that willna be overheard?”

Prying his eyes from Claire, Raymond looked at Murtagh and nodded.

“Of course, of course. Right this way. Mind the shop!”

Raymond lead them down a narrow hallway and into a back room. Claire was fascinated by all the jars around them, filled with herbs she’d never even heard of. The herbalist closed and locked the door behind them.

“It is free of unwanted ears, here. What is it you need me to get?”

Murtagh folded his arms over his chest, deciding how much to tell this new person.

“What do ye ken of the Sight?”

If the small man was startled by the question, he gave no indication. Instead, he surveyed Claire and Murtagh. Claire’s heart leapt; he looked just like Uncle Lamb had when he'd found something of unique interest.

“I know it is an unusual Gift,” Raymond said. “Very rare in the modern age. I have heard rumors that one with the Sight still lives, but…” he waved his hands in a dismissive gesture.

“What do you ken of Healers?”

Raymond sat down on a wooden crate, rubbing his face with his hands.

“What is it that you need from me? If you cannot tell me what it is, then you have no business being here.”

Claire stepped forward before Murtagh could say something rude.

“We need your help, monsieur. My husband has the Sight, but his body…” She swallowed, then went on. “His body cannot handle it. The stronger the visions get, the more they effect him. I seem to have a Gift as well to be a Healer for him, but I do not know how to use my Gift. We hoped that you might be able to help us.”

Raymond’s eyes went so wide Claire worried they might pop out.

“He truly has the Sight?”

“Aye,” Murtagh said sourly. “And if the lass here canna use her Gift, he’ll die.”

“Take my hands,” Raymond said, suddenly getting to his feet. “And tell me your name.”

Claire rested her hands on top of Raymond’s, a sharp shock making her flinch.

“Claire… Beauchamp.”

“I understand the need for secrecy, Madonna. Do you know what it is you do when you Heal your husband?”

She closed her eyes and concentrated on the way she’d passed energy from herself to Jamie. Raymond jerked his hands away, breathing hard.

“How long are you in Paris?” he asked, voice thready with desperation.

“However long we need,” Murtagh answered for them.

“Excellent! This will be much easier if you stay with me.”

Thoughts of Jamie sprang into her mind, the look on his face as they’d pulled away from the cottage.

“We will stay for a week at a time,” Murtagh said. “But we’ve people lookin’ for us and for the lad. We canna gi’ ye our real names, ken? Or tell ye where we’re from.”

Raymond shook his head and waved his hands again.

“You will stay in my home. I am off the grid, so you will be safe. I do not need information, only a promise that you,” he looked at Claire. “Will do as I say when I teach you about your Gift.”

“Of course,” she said. “But what about your shop?”

“What of it? It does not need me to run. And if someone does need me, Delphine knows how to contact me.”

Nervously, Claire nodded her head and followed Raymond out a back door. Only six more days until she could see Jamie again.

Raymond put them up in separate but adjoined rooms. He allowed her time to wash up and take a nap if she wished, but he wanted to speak with her as soon as possible. Murtagh was her ever-present shadow everywhere she went.

“What do you know of auras?” Raymond asked, looking through a bookshelf as Claire took her seat.

“Not much, I’m afraid. The man that raised me was a practical sort.”

“Ah!” He said, pulling a book from the shelf. “Then let me give you the basics. Everyone has an aura, a sort of… glow about them. Not everyone can see them, you understand.”

Setting the book out on the table, he flipped through a few pages until he found the one he wanted. Claire leaned forward to study the drawing of a human shape, surrounded by a rainbow of light.

“Is this what you see about people?”

“Yes, Madonna. For instance your friend here,” he nodded at Murtagh. “He has many colors, but the strongest I can see is his loyalty. Everyone will tell you different colors mean different things. He is strong and protective and very loyal.”

Claire nodded, watching Murtagh frown.

“Yes, he is very loyal to my husband.”

Raymond devolved into explanations of the different colors as he understood them. He was a very animated storyteller, using his hands in wide arcs as he spoke. Claire found herself relaxing around this odd little man, taking comfort in his absolute belief. He didn’t need to see Jamie, which made Murtagh happy, but he knew he could help.

“I have a little of the Healing Gift myself, but not as strong as most. But you, Madonna…”

“What about her,” Murtagh asked sharply.

“Most Healing I’ve seen happen has a blue energy about it. But yours, Madonna, is pure white.”

Frowning, Claire sat back in her chair.

“What does that mean?”

“It means that you are La Dame Blanche. The White Lady.”

Though she had no context for the title he gave her, she felt her pulse race. It frightened her, like it carried a weight with it.

“What exactly does that mean?” she asked, surprised her voice wasn’t trembling.

“It means you have a great Gift, Madonna. For most who Heal, it is specific. Some are good at mending damaged bones. Others I have known work well with the brain. But your Gift covers the whole of a person. Tell me, you are a doctor?”

She nodded.

“And you seem to always know when something is wrong? Even if tests tell you nothing else is wrong?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “I always know, even if I’m not sure what it is.”

“This is why you are La Dame Blanche. You can heal most anyone. Of course, there are things that even Gifts cannot heal, but you are more powerful than most Healers.”

Murtagh stood and began pacing.

“The reason we are here, Master Raymond,” he said. “Is because Claire needs help wi’ her gift. Can ye teach her to use it better? Help her get stronger?”

Raymond nodded quickly.

“Oh yes, of course! Give me a little time to find some books. I have a few talents of my own, as I’ve said. But yes, I can help her. You both take your time and settle in. I’m not sure how long this will all take.”

A sudden wave of panic took over Claire.

“What about…” she trailed off, looking up at Murtagh. He would know what she meant.

“You are not a prisoner here,” Raymond said. “You can come and go as you wish. If you’d like to only work and stay here a few days a week, that’s alright with me.”

“We’ll leave once a week,” Murtagh said. “No’ the same day, ken. For our safety and yers, we willna tell ye when we go or where we’ll go.”

Raymond nodded.

“Fine, fine. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve some books to collect. I’ll have dinner ready at six.”

That night, Claire sat on her bed and felt very alone. Jamie was always such a presence in her life, everywhere she went. She’d been sleeping beside him long enough to grow accustomed to it. This bed looked large and cold without him in it.

Murtagh’s restrictions didn’t allow her to call or write to Jamie. But she could write a letter to him, she just wouldn’t send it. She could leave the letters with him for him to read while she was gone. Yes, that would be good.

My love,

I think you’d enjoy Master Raymond. He’s quite a character, very eccentric. Murtagh didn’t like him to start, I think. He knows how Gifts work, Jamie. Your brother was right, he can help me. It’s late and I’m tired. But looking at the bed reminds me that I haven’t slept without you in a while. I don’t like it, being here knowing you’re sleeping alone too. It’s what we need, I know, but I miss you. I’m glad you gave me a shirt of yours, though. It smells like you.

I love you.

-C

Folding the letter up, Claire slipped it into the drawer of her bedside table and crawled into the lonely bed.

“Come with me, Madonna,” Raymond said. “We need to discuss and understand what your Gift is and what it does.”

“Didn’t we do that already?” she asked, finishing her coffee.

“Come with me,” he said again, bustling off down a hallway.

Claire glanced at Murtagh curiously, but he just shrugged. She jogged off after the Frenchman, finding him in a small library. A pile of old books sat on the desk, one open at the top of the pile.

“We discussed generalities, Madonna,” he said. “Nothing specific. And these questions I must ask you might set off your bodyguard.”

She watched him warily, aware that Jamie’s fate now lay in her hands.

“I won’t betray my husband. His secrets are his to tell, not mine.”

“I wouldn’t ask you to. I just need to know a little about how his Gift works and how yours interacts with him. That’s all.”

The entire day was full of questions and answers from both of them. By the time they all sat down for dinner, he’d helped her discover where the power of her Gift lay. She couldn’t access it on command, but he said that would come with practice.

Before she curled up for bed, she wrote Jamie another letter.

My love,

Honestly I don’t feel as though I’ve made much progress today. But Raymond says that comes with time and practice. It’s difficult though. Since becoming a doctor, I’m used to knowing what I need to do and doing it. This is so different than anything I’ve ever done. I’m determined, though. I’m going to figure this Gift out and come back to you. I miss you.

-C

Pulling the sheets up around herself, she sighed and sank slowly into sleep.

Claire woke up in Raymond’s house, not sure what it was that woke her. An unusual sound caught her attention, so she got up. She’d been wearing one of Jamie’s shirts to bed since she’d left the cottage, the only way to keep him close until she saw him again.

Following her ears, she rounds a corner and discovers Murtagh sitting on a stool playing a beautiful cello.

“I didn’t know you played,” she said quietly.

“Dinna play much these days. No time, wi’ trying to hide the lad and all. But I’ve a moment here. Ye should be asleep, lass.”

Claire shrugged, moving to be closer to the beautiful instrument.

“I know. But I heard the sound and wondered what it was. May I sit and listen?”

“Of course,” Murtagh said, inclining his head to an empty chair.

He relaxed into a melody she vaguely recognized, the sounds soft and sweet beneath his broad hands. It amazed her, how beautiful it all was, how delicate for such a gruff man.

Her eyes, steadily growing heavier in her need for sleep, finally drifted closed.

“That’s a beautiful melody,” she mumbled. “I don’t think I’ve heard it before.”

“Aye. It’s a song often sung wi’ the tale of the Fraser Faerie Wife. Some say it was she what brought it to us. There’s words to it, ken, but I dinna sing.”

Claire felt herself moving along with the music, wishing she had Jamie with her to dance with.

“Ellen,” Murtagh’s voice cracked a long time later. “Ellen used to sing it. She had a lovely voice. She didna sing it often. Mostly when Brian or one of the bairns couldna sleep.”

“Would you tell me the words? Not sing, just tell me?”

Murtagh nodded, letting the music bring itself back to the start.

“There’s many different versions o’ this song, ken. But I’ll tell ye the words for the Fraser version.”

“I’d like that.”

The deep, rich notes filled the room and Claire’s mind supplied her with images of the Fraser Wife.

“Sing me a song,” Murtagh began, his voice blending beautifully with the cello. “Of a lass that is gone… Say, could that lass be I?”

In her imagination, she could see the Fraser wife running to the standing stones to protect her beloved, terrified and heartbroken.

“Merry of soul she sailed on a dais, over the sea to Skye.”

The melody carried her away and Claire began to doze, absently wondering if Jamie was also dreaming of the Faerie Wife. Dimly, she was aware that the music had stopped and Murtagh had picked her up in his arms.

“Hush, lass,” he said softly. “I’m just puttin’ ye to bed. Jamie would have my head if he kent I left ye to sleep in a chair.”

“You’re wrong, you know,” she said, almost sounding drunk. “You’ve a lovely singing voice.”

[fantasticnewtimagines]

*Over-reaction* Newt x reader

◘ Anonymous asked:

Hi, this might be an odd request but if you get a chance I was wondering if you could write something where the reader and Newt are arguing about something and he gets quite intense and Picket or one of the other creatures tries to calm Newt down or gets angry at him for being so mad at u and then he apologises and angst fluffiness please!!!❤️❤️

Assisting Newt with his studies about magical creatures was always something you enjoyed doing. However, it was day three of being inside the case at his work table being his extra set of hands and all you wanted to do was spend some time together doing something else. 

Anything else.

“Could you pass me that vile there?”

Reaching over, you picked up the vile he asked for and gently held it up to him. He muttered a thank you as he then held the swooping evil over it, catching it’s venom in the tiny glass container. 

It was quiet, besides the various noises of the creatures beyond the hut walls. You sighed as you sat down, resting your head in your hand. You unknowingly began to tap the table with your other hand and Newt shot you a look from the corner of his eye.

“Sorry....”

Removing your hand, you placed it in your lap and continued watching as he carefully continued squeezing out the venom.

One finished, Newt placed the creature in his pocket and closed the vile. He picked up his quill and began scribbling on some parchment paper before shuffling around looking for God knows what. 

“Hey... how about we take a break? Maybe take a walk outside? Get some fresh air?”

Your words hardly seemed to phase the wizard and as he placed his wand in-between his teeth, he continued shuffling about, making the mess upon the table somehow even messier than before.

“Newt?” Reaching over, you poked his arm, waiting for his reply.

“Sorry, what?” He removed his wand from between his teeth and placed it down, letting it roll beneath some curled up parchment.

“I said, let’s go outside... get some fresh air.”

“Can we maybe do it later? I’m getting really close to-”

“Ugh!” You threw your hands up in the air and stood up, crossing your arms across your chest as you looked back at him. “We’ve been working on this, sorry, you have been working on this for the past three days! We haven’t done anything else!”

“Well, by all means, go out and do something else.”

“I want to do something else with you!”

“Well, I’m busy right now.”

“Well, I’m getting angry.”

Your brows were furrowed in and you felt your blood begin boil as he continued looking down at his work table, not even bothering to argue with you eye to eye. 

Pickett, his bowtruckle, popped his head out from his shirt breast pocket, chirping as he wiggled his leaves and looking up at Newt. The wizard seemed annoyed that Pickett was now intervening and slammed his hand on the table, turning to make eye contact with you now.

“Look, I’m sorry you’re bored, but I really need to continue this or-”

“Need to? Newt, everything will be just the same as it is when you come back!”

Taking in a deep huff of air, Newt tried to compose himself but without a second thought, he let his anger and annoyance get to him. 

“Look, I really just want to work on this, okay? If you’re not going to help and are just going to sit there and complain than could you go be a bother somewhere else?”

His words hit you hard and as he turned back, continuing to work. Newt was never one to raise his voice and as you looked at him you felt the tears forming in your eyes. Standing there, you waited, hoping he’d apologize for what he said but instead he just kept shuffling about. 

Pickett was now poking about again, his eyes on you. Wiping at your eyes and turning around, you made your way out of the case, letting your tears spill out as you closed the lid behind you.

Newt heard the lid close and as he did, he let out a sigh and kept working. He was so close to what he was trying to figure out and he just really needed no distractions. 

Pickett hopped out of his breast pocket, landing on the table and walking over to where Newt was once again writing. The tiny creature crossed it’s leafy arms while glaring up at the wizard.

“What? You mad at me too?” Newt rolled his eyes, looking away and grabbing more supplies. Pickett began chirping again, walking around the table trying to stay in Newt’s direct line of vision. “Pickett, please, I’m trying to work.”

Growing angry now too, Pickett scurried off and climbed up one of the draping plants near Newt’s work table. Scurrying down the ledge, he made his way towards the tiny framed photo of you and Newt. The delicate oval frame held an image of the two of you back at Newt’s childhood home. You were sitting in the grass, surrounded by flowers wrapped in one another’s arms. It was Newt’s most absolute favorite photo of the two of you and it’s why he kept it near his most occupied space in his hut.

Picking it up in his hands, Pickett slid down the vine and landing with a thud. The frame rolled out of his grasp and slid across the table landing near Newt’s hand. 

“Pickett! Be careful!” Shooting a look over at the creature, he was now standing up, his leafy arms on his sides, glaring at the magizoologist. Finally picking up the overturned frame, Newt felt his heart sink as his landed on the photo. He remembered the say so perfectly. The beautiful summer sun and the gentle cool breeze. He remembered the picnic you had that day and how you laughed as he spilled his iced tea all over him, which he quickly fixed with just the wave of his wand.

Sighing, Newt leaned over, placing the frame back on the ledge. Pickett chirped again and Newt glanced over at him, knowing exactly what he was saying.

“You’re right.... I may have been to harsh.”

The creature glared further. 

“Okay, okay! I was horrible.” Hiding his face in his hands, Newt felt the dread and regret filling every inch of body. He had been awful and now you were off somewhere feeling like you were a complete bother to him when in reality you nothing more than the opposite.

Plopping his hands to the table, Newt pushed himself up and made his way towards the case entrance. He needed to find you and make sure you knew he loved you and never, not in a million years, would you ever be a bother to him.

Rising out of the case, Newt looked around the room, hoping you’d be in there. You were not however and so he made his way out down the hall where he found you sitting on the couch near the fireplace. You were curled up in a blanket, a cup of tea in your hands and if he heard correctly, you were sniffling as you rubbed your face with your hand.

Newt’s heart dropped immediately. All he wanted to do was wrap you up in arms and apologize while kissing you. 

Hanging his head low, he slowly approached you. Your head turned only the slightest as you caught a glimpse of him in the side of your vision. You immediately shifted your head away, trying to hide your red teary eyes. 

“Y/N....”

His voice was almost a whisper and as he stepped closer, taking a seat on the couch beside you, he felt the tears forming in his eyes as you scooted away. 

Your back was to him now, pulling the blanket in closer to you as if it were your protection from him.

“I-I’m so sorry...”

You didn't answer. 

“I know I was a bit harsh, “ He paused, correcting himself. “I was horrible. I’m so sorry, love.... I just... I’ve been so close to figuring out what I’ve been to for weeks now and I just let it kind of take over....” 

His eyes looked up, hoping you’d turn around to face him. He sighed when you still didn’t budge. Hesitantly, he reached out and laid a hand on your arm. You shoved him off, closing in on yourself further as you pulled the blanket up. 

“Y/N, please... please look at me.”

“No.”

Letting his hand fall to the cushion, Newt fell back in to the couch, looking over at you and waiting. You still didn’t budge and so he took it upon himself to get you to turn around snd talk.

Reaching over, he began tickling you in the crook of your neck. You jumped, tossing your head to the side, trapping his fingers in-between your head and your shoulder. Newt smiled and moved closer, now tickling your waist.

“Stooooop!” 

Your cry came out as a laugh slash annoyance and he only continued. He soon had you laying on your side, laughing as he crawled over, leaning over you. He finally stopped tickling you and he looked down at you, your eyes meeting his gaze.

“I’m truly sorry, Y/N. I never meant to hurt you.”

“I know. I’m sorry for pushing you to-”

“No. You don’t owe me any apology.” 

Smiling, you laid a hand on his cheek, using your thumb to trace his perfect cheek bone. Moving closer, Newt closed the space between you both by placing a gently kiss to your lips. You smiled against his lips, wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him in closer. The wizard chuckled, lifting up to see your face.

“So, what made you realize the error of your ways?” You joked.

“A tiny friend of mine reminded me of what’s most important in my life. My creatures are my babies but you’re my true treasure.”

Blushing, you pulled him down for another kiss. 

“So, how would you like to go on  that walk now?”

“Let’s skip it. I like being right here.”

Nodding, Newt smiled, staring in to your deep E/C eyes before kissing you once more. 

In all honesty, this was way better than any experiment. 

Hope you liked! I really liked this one! ^_^

[insecwrites]

Mail-Order Conjunx

Dedicated to @harutemu

Word Count: 3890 Pairing: Cyclonus/Tailgate Fandom: Transformers AO3 link: http://archiveofourown.org/works/9723002 Summary: 

Cyclonus' function is a taxing, unrewarding, and draining ordeal. His entire function has been working towards alt-mode exemption, or a different escape from serving under a mad tyrant. The Senate sends him a gift to try and keep him complacent; he gets to build his own dream-mech. A build-order Conjunx, tailored to his every wish.

Galvatron intercepts it, and Cyclonus is left with the aftermath.

From the very first moment that Cyclonus had powered up, he had been exposed to the caprices of his superior.

Officially, his squadron had been built to become Galvatron’s most trusted and valued team of warriors – the backstrut to his army. A great gift of elite newsparks, ready to be groomed and formed into whatever Galvatron desired. Unofficially, the council hoped that one of the newsparks would learn to withstand Galvatron’s everchanging moods and violent tendencies so that there was a soldier that could handle the more sensitive documents.

Their plan B, Cyclonus suspected, had been a quiet assassination during Galvatron’s recharge.

If you asked Cyclonus, it wasn’t yet too late to set that plan into motion. Better late than never, after all. Maybe then he would finally have a full recharge cycle without interruptions. He stared up at the ceiling of his suite, and cursed the ringing from his console.

He grunted as he stepped off his berth, and he had to swallow a wave anger as one of the recharge cables snagged on a plate of armour. His console was still insistently ringing, and Cyclonus clenched his jaws together so that they didn’t show just how tired he was. It would be a mistake not to pick up. Even if Scourge often took his duties during Cyclonus’ recharge, Galvatron would be enraged if Cyclonus didn’t respond to his every beck and call.

He accepted the call, and watched the screen flicker through security checks. Surprisingly enough, the contact information was not Galvatron’s – but… a commercial number? How odd.

“Hello, am I in contact with Commander Cyclonus of Tetrahex military? Hi!” A mech on the other side of the screen greeted him, sitting primly behind a desk that looked like it had never been used for actual office work. The logo at the front of the desk was from one of the factories respondible for harvesting sparks and building frames. A newspark factory. Strangely enough, it did not appear to be a factory that specialised in warbuilds, or even any type of military-fit mech at all.

“...Hello.” Cyclonus said. He couldn’t remember contacting this factory – perhaps Galvatron had commissioned something from them without his knowing. Or, Primus forbid, he had been woken up in the middle of his recharge for an ad . “How did you access this number? This is an encrypted frequency.”

The mech on the other side of the camera blinked, clearly taken aback. “I’m sorry sir! This was the encryption that was filled into the contact-forms in your specifications document.”

“What kind of document.” If there was anything that Cyclonus knew, it was that documents and signatures were life’s worst traps. Especially ones that showed up out of nowhere.

“Your specially constructed-for-you conjunx enduera?” The mech on the other side had lost much of his confidence. “We- I called you to let you know that it’s been finished and shipped to you. You had some… unique choices, I should say, and I wanted to let you know we were able to fulfil them regardless of some minor issues.”

Cyclonus was dumbstruck. Of all the things to… – a mail-order Conjunx?!

He had heard of this practice, of course. In richer circles, people occasionally contacted a specialised bureau that would allow them to construct the mech of their dreams. Custom designs, custom optic-colours, custom personality cores, custom SPARKS even! Cyclonus found it a distasteful affair – mostly because of the name that had been given to it. A Conjunx was not someone you bought, and modified to suit your tastes. Most likely, the name ‘disposable frag toy’didn’t sound quite as glamorous and expensive.

There was only one bureau on all of Cybertron that handled mail-order mecha, simply for how outrageously expensive it was. One had to buy a spark from one of the hot spots, buy a frame design or commission a team of artists to make one, pick out bits of programming and personality traits - … And of course, a certified alt-mode exemption. Even though it could be argued that being someone’s personal shareware was a function, the laws said otherwise.

“I never ordered a conjunx.” Cyclonus said, and there was a flash of cold fear as he thought about the cost of the service. Was this some elaborate scam?! “Where did you send it to! I want you to cancel it!”

“Military base Tetrahex, sir!” The mech scrambled to reply. “It has been packaged in such a way that it can only be opened by you, or by an employee in case there was a defect. I- I am afraid I cannot cancel it- Did - was it not you who filled in the forms?”

“No. I have no credits for these kinds of luxuries!” Cyclonus replied, even as he checked into his credits account. It was an insane relief to find his funds still intact. The numbers ticked high for a mech of his caste and position, but he was still saving up for caste-exemption. A build-order conjunx would easily be ten times as much. “I never purchased a build-order conjunx. Show me the documents.”

“Yes sir!” The mech on the other side nodded quickly, and he lifted another datapad to his face. “It says right here that it was all paid for in advance by the Council. With, and I quote: “…a maximum credit use of 10.000.000, to be distributed by the receiver of the contract. Any unused credit will return to Council accounts.””

“The Council-?” Cyclonus blinked. Well, that explained. It wouldn’t be the first gift that he’d been given by the Council, but they had never gifted him something so expensive, nor had they ever failed to contact him just to have him repeat over and over how grateful and happy he was with his new gift. “The Council paid for everything.” Cyclonus mumbled, more to himself than to the mech on the other side of the screen.

“The frame, spark, and personality you requested were all paid for, yes. I will forward the necessary papers so you can see for yourself.” The factory mech said, and his fingers began to skitter over his console. His easy sales-mecha persona was starting to come back up, now that he could continue his usual spiel.“It was a surprisingly difficult mech to assemble, but we really hope to have pleased you, sir. We hope that your custom order Conjunx will bring you a lifetime of joy! I’m here to help answer any questions you might have about your custom built-” Cyclonus tuned the mech out, and quickly skimmed the document that the mech had forwarded. Indeed, everything was official. The right marks and ecryptions were in all the right places, and every bills had been paid - to the last shanix.

“- countless other options still available to you! There are still plenty of funds allotted for you to mod your conjunx in any way that you’d like. We offer a great range of interface mods, from enhanced silicone structures to additional ‘parts’, to-”

“Thank you.” Cyclonus interrupted the mech. “But I have urgent business to attend to. Please do not call this frequency again.”

“Oh, I-!”

The vidscreen blinked off, and Cyclonus took a moment to savor the silence before he closed his optics and let his head roll back. Time for yet another call to the Senate. Better get it over with right now, as opposed to adding it to his ever growing list.

He opened his most used contacts, and let his commlink dial directly to Senator Shockwave’s personal line. He needed the mech’s service and advice so often that they had long since decided to leave out Shockwave’s secretary. “Ah. Hello Commander Cyclonus.” Senator Shockwave practically sighed his greeting, and Cyclonus was tempted to do the same. “Is there a problem with lord Galvatron?”

When wasn’t there a problem with lord Galvatron? Cyclonus didn’t have the luxury of making a simple house call, unless it was to warn someone of what Galvatron was ABOUT to do. “Just now I got a call from a mech- factory. The service mech on the other side of the line told me that my custom-built mech was finished, and that the Council has paid for it.”

“What-? Oh! That is quite fast!” Senator Shockwave’s exhaustion lifted, and his optics seemed to light up as he looked into the camera. “I hadn’t expected to hear back from you so soon, or at all, really. I am happy to hear that it is not a crisis for once.”

“I suppose that means it is not a scam then.” Cyclonus replied dryly.

“It is all fully legal.” The Senator said jovially. “I know how much your work weighs on you, so I lobbyed for a fitting reward to be sent to you! I will say that I’ve been very curious as to what kind of frame you’d pick – though I wish I could have helped you with selecting a paintjob… It didn’t take you very long to decide on what you wanted if it is already being shipped!”

“Actually,” Cyclonus growled. “I was unaware that this gift had been sent to me, up until a few moments ago. I never received a form. Or a confirmation of any order.”

“You didn’t know we sent?…” Shockwave blinked slowly. “…Something must have gone wrong-… Your personal commlink is MIL.C-SND-987.08764.0993, isn’t it?”

It was his military commlink. Cyclonus offlined his optics again, and forcefully kept his venting slow and deep. “No. It is my military commlink code.”

Senator Shockwave furrowed his brows, the lighting playing off his polished faceplate. “I -… Forgive me if this is an ignorant question, but isn’t that much the same as your personal frequency?”

“Lord Galvatron’s senses are honed to sense any and all threats of betrayal.” Cyclonus replied stiffly. He would not swear, but the name of his commander served as a curse in itself. “Loyal as I might be, I am not excluded from his inspections.”

“He accesses your military commlink!?” Senator Shockwave said. He looked truly surprised, though it could have been an act. Shockwave was one of the nicer Senate-dwellers, but he was just as sly and slimy as his fellows.

“You cannot tell me you are surprised, Senator.”

“…I suppose I should have expected that he would do something like that, but surely he wouldn’t try to take your reward as his own…?”

Cyclonus felt like his silence was enough of an answer.

The Senator sighed, and brought up a hand to massage his short filials. “I am very sorry about this, Cyclonus. I’ll do what I can, but I suspect that the Senate will be unwilling to compensate for your lost gift. It was… well, let’s just say that we meant for this gift to be extraordinary, and it had a price to match. I will make sure you are still rewarded for your service.”

“You know what I wish for the most.” Cyclonus replied.

“Yes, yes I know.” Shockwave murmured. “And you will have your alt-mode exemption, as soon as it is possible.”

Cyclonus might have put more faith into that answer, if it hadn’t been given to him so many times before. The only one he trusted to help him with his future was himself. “Thank you for your time, Senator, but I have a recharge cycle to finish.”

Senator Shockwave heaved a sigh on the other side of the screen. He did not mention the time of day. Most mecha were wide awake at this time, but Galvatron kept odd schedules. “Of course. Please contact me again if there’s anything I can do. You are very overdue for a gift, after all your dedicated service.”

Cyclonus could not agree more, but he kept his lips pressed together. The senate’s gratitude was about as valuable as a gilded trophy. If they truly wanted to reward him, they would allow him to leave the military and take up a different function. As kind as Senator Shockwave was, even he didn’t feel much for allowing Cyclonus his freedom. Galvatron was hard to control, and Cyclonus was one of the few mecha that could do it.

Galvatron’s power was nothing to underestimate. If he wanted to, he could destroy entire planets, and decimate star systems. He had a talent for destruction He was a terrific double edged blade, and Cyclonus had been handed the honour of trying to wield it without cutting off his own hands..

“I will keep that in mind.” He replied stiffly. Once he had his alt-mode exemption, he would milk them for favours for all that they were worth.

He ended the video call, and marched back to his berth, lying down with as much spite as his pride allowed him.

Of all the rewards they could have chosen, they picked a live interface toy. As if that could convince him to keep his job as Galvatron’s damage control! As if it wouldn’t be a potential source for Galvatron’s jealousy, and another burden on his day-to-day life!

Cyclonus slowed down his vents and kept himself perfectly still and relaxed on his berth. There was no reason to get needlessly angry. Everything had turned out for the better. His ‘gift’ had been intercepted by Galvatron, and it was no longer Cyclonus’ responsibility. Hopefully it would keep Galvatron busy for a while so that Cyclonus would be able to get some work done without frantically asserting damage control behind his Lord’s aft.

Yes. It was a blessing that this ‘gift’ had made it to Galvatron’s hands instead of his own. Very unfortunate to the bot in question, most assuredly, but useful for Cyclonus.

Cyclonus turned onto his side, and searched for the recharge cables of his berth.

What a cruel fate for a mech; harvested from the fertile fields of Cybertron, already sold to someone before the sentio metallico had formed, surgically manipulated to satisfy someone’s bodily preferences… And then dumped with a mech like Galvatron!

Cyclonus shuddered, and fit the last of his recharge cables into place. He could only be grateful that he had been spared that fate.

-

In the days following the vidcall, Cyclonus’s life went on as it always had. Galvatron made no mention of the build-order mech, and Cyclonus did not mind that at all. The less he heard about Galvatron’s inclinations, the better.

It was at the end of a long, unplanned shift, that Cyclonus found a large pristine box blocking the doorway to his habsuite. Minimalistic, tasteful, and decorated with thin lines of ununtrium, there was no doubt that it contained something obscenely lavish. Cyclonus offlined his optics, took a long invent, and initiated his commlink to Galvatron.

“What is it!” Galvatron growled on the other side of the line. “I am busy !”

“My excuses, Lord Galvatron, but I believe a package for you has been mis-delivered to my habsuite.” Cyclonus replied.

“A package?” Galvatron’s answered. His inflection immediately changed from annoyance to excitement. “How typical – the servants of this world are so lazy and stupid – misdelivery! What is it!”

“A mail-order Conjunx, my Lord.” – So please just order me to bring it to you so I can forget about all of this and take a rest. Cyclonus added mentally.

“A-… Oh. That thing.” Galvatron said. Obvious disappointment at the lack of a gift and disgust sounded through in his voice. “Such filth isn’t for me.”

Cyclonus shuttered his optics off, and then on again. “…What is its purpose then, my Lord?”

“Why, it’s yours of course.” Galvatron said, and Cyclonus could practically taste the condescending smile in his voice.“A fitting reward for your great service.”

“I see.” Cyclonus knew that Galvatron couldn’t see his face, but he still angled his wings down, and kept his optics to the floor. “Thank you, my lord.”

“I made sure it would be useful beyond just acting as a warm hole and a spike, but of course, it is capable of interface.” Galvatron said. “Why mecha would desire something like that is beyond me, but do enjoy it. ”

“Of course. Thank you, my lord.” Cyclonus said.

“Hm, yes.” Galvatron said distractedly. Sometimes he played games while on the comms – sometimes he was in the middle of a meeting. Judging by the lack of nervous background chatter, Cyclonus guessed that it was the former. “Do keep the thing busy. I don’t want to see it lazing around and fuelling on our energon supplies. It’s your responsibility to keep it in check, am I clear?!”

“Yes, Lord Galvatron.” Cyclonus replied dully.

“Good.” Galvatron said, and the commlink cut off.

Cyclonus offlined his optics, and took a slow invent. He was tired. Another duty was packaged up inside of that box, and he barely knew if it was going to be anything he could enjoy. Cyclonus’ tastes were specific in that he did not desire intercourse with mechanisms he didn’t know. Knowing Galvatron, he was using this ‘conjunx’ as a creative insult.

Out of duty rather than excitement, Cyclonus dragged the box into of his habsuite.

The datapad on top was an informational packet. A bit of a misnomer in Cyclonus’ opinion, as most of it was about the benefits of a build-order Conjunx, and how absolutely amazing their brand-company was. There was a list of additional mods that could be installed, a giftcard to get a discount on his ‘next purchase’, a ‘suggested names’ folder… and of course, a single page that contained all the more important specs, model-details, legalities and warranties, written in the tiniest font that Cyberton had to offer. Of course.

Cyclonus skimmed through the ‘first onlining’ instructions, and then put the datapad away. Reluctantly he hooked his claws into the gaps on the sides, and triggered the unlocking sequence. The box whirred, and dramatic puffs of steam began to flow from the opening panels. Smooth and satisfying, the packaging folded open, small lights initialising to further draw attention to the polished form lying inside of a velvet cushioned inside.

… It was a waste-disposal groundframe. A disposable.

Cyclonus stared. There was nothing special about the bot in front of him. Cyclonus must have seen this same featureless face a thousand times on the street. A plain visor, with a white metal cap over a the rudimentary fuel-intake. No nasal ridge, no custom colours or designs – it wasn’t even a flyer! The body was no better. It had been posed to look enticing and to show off the shiny panelling, but it looked laughable on the thick little bot. The grounder’s tires were bulky and had thick profiles to help traverse the garbage dumps, and the mech’s seams were filled with rubber to keep trash and filth out. The words “WASTE DISPOSAL” were proudly etched into the mech’s arm.

The only thing that separated this mech from a million others of exact same build was the quality of his metal. At the very least, the factory had opted to use high-quality metals instead of the molten slag that other disposables were made from.

Cyclonus’s jaws were clenched tightly together. Well, that explained what Galvatron had meant when he’d said that the mech would be useful. Galvatron had quite the pronounced opinion on cleanliness and soldiers. Where any sane commander would require soldiers to clean their own base and berth, Galvatron thought that all cleaning had to be done by cleaning drones and disposables. It was still an issue that cropped up whenever Galvatron was given the opportunity to speak to the Senate, but they had never buckled.

Soldiers had nothing to do during peacetime, so why not have them perform the basic upkeep for their own weaponry, medibay, launchpads and barracks? Military drills could only fill up so much time of the day… Apparently this was how Galvatron intended to rebel.

The box chimed, and a singular gleaming button was unveiled. On top of it, beautiful gleaming letters shone up at Cyclonus.

~‘Initiate your new life’~

Cyclonus was sure it was meant to be taken in a positive manner. He pressed the button.

The box whirred, and there were soft clicks and clacks as vital parts were slotted into place. Cyclonus could even hear the pressurised gurgle of energon being injected into the frame, and the electric whine as everything booted for the first time.

The blue visor flickered to life, and Cyclonus stood by as the newspark began to move. Small testing movements began in the tips of its fingerjoints, ended in the soft roll of its head. The bot’s movements were jittery, and its – his? - visor flickered through all data packets that had been installed into it’s cortex before sendoff.

Cyclonus had no idea what had been installed on the bot. There had to be some options there – mods to create a more desired personality, or to eliminate any need to teaching, but he hadn’t checked if they had been installed on this bot. It wasn’t a far fetched idea that the bot’s programs would match up with its frame. A waste disposal drone was, after all, completely worthless unless it knew how to function.

“I-….” The little bot still seemed disoriented, and he looked around like he was completely lost before finally addressing Cyclonus. “Is is this the waste disposal plant? S-sir?”

“No.” Cyclonus responded. “This is military base Iacon.”

“Oh.” A silence fell between them as the disposable took in the new information and situation. “…Is… is this where I’m supposed to work then? My files say that I’m supposed to work at… um – Iacon waste disposal centre. I – are you my supervisor?”

Had there really been no other info-packets installed on him? Nothing outside of what he’d need for his function?

Cyclonus took in a deep breath, and let it flow out of his vents. “I suppose I am.” He replied. It wasn’t the drone’s fault that he had ended up here, intended as a gift and turned into a burden. If Cyclonus was in luck, the little bot would turn out to be obedient. Cyclonus bent forward, and undid the last few restraints that were keeping the mech’s legs inside of his packaging.

The waste disposal drone almost tripped over his own pedes when he tried stepping out of his box, and CYclonus watched him stumble around as he tried to find his balance. “Waste disposal Unit GT-5598 is ready to be assigned to a squadron and receive orders Sir!”

“What do you need in order to perform your function?” Cyclonus said.

The bot’s visor flickered slightly as he accessed his information packets. “Ah- er, a task list, a recharge-refuel berth, and the location of cleaning item storage rooms.”

It was do-able. Cyclonus supposed that waste drones wouldn’t be so plentiful if they were a chore to maintain. The only nuisance was having to assign it a room. Undoubtedly Galvatron would not want a berth to be occupied by a cleaner drone, so maybe Cyclonus would stick a recharge cable in his closet and keep the little bot there. It would have to work.

He began setting up a list of tasks for the small mech, purposely placing his own chores at the top of the priority list. Galvatron had mentioned that he could do with his ‘present’ as he pleased, and Cyclonus was going to use the disposable for his own gain for as long as possible.

[ceaselessly-into-the-past]

the return

Today’s the first time I’m going home since I’ve come here. On a similar note, I’ve been nauseous and more anxious than usual for the past twelve or so hours.

Most of the fear comes from the fact that my parents and older brother - just as an introduction to his character, keep in mind the words Harvard, successful, hyperintelligent, Harvard, and malicious dickwad - visited me in my room last week unannounced. All I knew at the time was that I was to meet my dad outside in the car, which I’d agreed to because my father is reasonable and tolerable, but when I went to see him there were two extras that demanded to follow me back up to my dorm. I didn’t have a choice.

The first thing my brother did was walk over to my shelves, where I keep my shower basket, books, medical care sets and so on, and picked out my shampoo bottle, asking if I was able to figure out how to use it. I politely responded ‘yes,’ recalling that I had asked my mom, who had bought the thing, about it before I left home and hadn’t been given a proper response.

He then proceeded to deliberately push down on the dispenser and leak shampoo on my carpeted floor.

He comes into my room and on purpose dumps my fucking shampoo on my fucking floor.

‘Out,’ I said. ‘Get out, all of you. right now.’ The curse words that I would’ve used stuck in my throat like bloated cysts. ‘You can’t stay here.’

My parents sided with him. ‘Oh come on, it’s just shampoo. You won’t even see it in an hour.’ ‘You should thank him, he basically cleaned your floor for you, haha!’ ‘Why do you get so jumpy about stupid things? Grow up, Kei.’ ‘Yeah, you’re being childish and rude. We’re your family you know.’ ‘Stop being so unpleasant. You should be grateful that we even want to come here.’ ‘What’s wrong with you?’ ‘What’s wrong with you?’ ‘You should go see the school counselor, there’s something wrong with you.’ ‘There’s something wrong with you.’ ‘There’s something wrong with you. There’s something wrong with you.There’s something wrong with you.There’s something wrong with youThere’s something wrongwithyouThere’ssomethingwrongwithyouThere’s somethingwrongwithyouthere’ssomethingwrongwithyoutheressomethingwrongwithyoutheressomethingwrongwithyoutheressomethingwrongwithyoutheressomethingwrongwithyoutheressomethingwrongwithyoutheressomethingwrongwithyouTHERESSOMETIHINGWRONGWITHYOUTHERESSOMETHINGWRONGWITHYOUTHERESSOMETIHINGWRONGWITHYOUTHERESSOMETHINGWRONGWITHYOUTHERESSOMETIHINGWRONGWITHYOUTHERESSOMETHINGWRONGWITHYOUTHERESSOMETIHINGWRONGWITHYOUTHERESSOMETHINGWRONGWITHYOUTHERESSOMETIHINGWRONGWITHYOUTHERESSOMETHINGWRONGWITHYOUTHERESSOMETIHINGWRONGWITHYOUTHERESSOMETHINGWRONGWITHYOUTHERESSOMETIHINGWRONGWITHYOUTHERESSOMETHINGWRONGWITHYOU

I am the ungrateful runt; the disobedient, petulant, disfigured and undesirable animal. I am invited into the house only for the sport and amusement of humans.

I’ve had to speak to my mom over the phone a few times leading up to today to get things in order - what I need to bring home, when and were to meet, that she’ll force feed me if I haven’t eaten enough.

Her voice makes me feel as though someone has jammed a cigarette between my lips and forced me to take my first drag as I stare down the length of the rolled-up paper, looking down and into my lungs filling with a thousand toxins. I’ve never smoked a cigarette before but somehow that’s exactly how it feels. The acrid smoke of her words and the faces I know she’s making on the other end sting my throat and make my eyes water. My stomach trembles and quietly churns as the information she shoves through the phone line comes down, down down and meets the acid and pepsin leaking desperately from the gastric walls.

The sight of her feels like a violation and never fails to rouse the urge in me to beat her to death just so she’ll stop existing.

Of course, I’d never do that. She’d be too insulted and haunt me until I killed myself out of a more malignant version of unbearable insanity she’s planted in my own brain. And though I’m not sure, I feel like that would be worse. With a human mother, at least you know where they are. A ghost mother could be anywhere because you can’t see them.

It’s the old horror movie principle - the less you see the monster, the scarier and more dangerous it feels.

I think I’m losing my mind.

I feel so suffocatingly small and the noises are too much and every second I spend in my room I can feel like a slow-burning, excruciating heat wave the intimidating forces that are the two roommates in the neighboring room, both Curtis Institute acceptees and the two only Kovner full scholarship recipients this year here, far more talented and skilled and experienced than I am and better in every way. Personable and amicable and capable and sharp-minded and everything that I am not.

I am a gnat in the Juilliard tableau. They are one of the many godlike figures, depicted in pristine poses. Perfect form and immaculate physicality. Real humans. People. They are people and I am not.

They sightread music like they’ve been fucking it for the last five years. Sightreading dries my eyes and gives me a migraine and draws the pitiful looks of everyone present. One day it’ll spell the end of my fucking career.

I despise this body and I wish I could strip it away and build it from scratch. Like how you completely remodel a room. I’ve hated it so intensely that I know every single detail I’d change and why and how I’d change it. Every single fucking detail is filed in the part of my brain that constantly burns with self-hate.

I can’t talk to people here. I can tell that they want to back away from me and that they just want me to go away and that inside they also feel guilty for feeling that way. So I just don’t talk to them. I spare them those feelings and I keep to myself.

Homeless people, though, don’t react that way. So I talk to them. I leave this building at night every so often and find and talk to them. And that’s the extent of my social life.

They treat me like a person and they try and listen. They’re more friends to me than anyone here.

Perhaps it’s from their hardship. and the fact that so many others shun them, that they find the capacity for empathy.

Two nights ago I met a man named Phil at the Times Square subway station. He’s 61 and both his mother and brother had died in the last three weeks. He’d heard of this through the gang that he’s a member of. 

‘You don’t fuck with us, we don’t fuck with you,’ he told me, using the general ‘you’. ‘But if you fuck with us, you be sure you gonna get the fuckin’ shit beat outta you.’

I gave him a dollar and 73 cents - the only money I had outside of my debit card - and he said that he’d buy a coffee with it the next morning. He was friends with a coffee shop manager. I also gave him my name and a piece of paper on which was written a promise to meet him on Friday at 9:30 pm with my cello.

I have plans to meet him on Friday at 9:30 pm with my cello. He’d told me that musicians can make a fair amount in that area, and his idea was that we’d stick together to watch each other’s stuff so that it doesn’t get stolen.

I also have plans to give him half of what I earn. Unless I don’t earn shit, in which case I’ll just give it all to him. He doesn’t have a cup like many homeless people do - he has a red fanny pack he keeps around his wast that has multiple pockets. He put the money I gave him in his pack meticulously, sticking the dollar bill in the big main pouch and the coins in a smaller outside pocket. He kept my note where he kept the change.

I’m putting together a small bag of things for Phil.I’m bringing it to him in an old Starbucks paper bag, and inside I’ve put a list written on an index card:

 I found a perfectly good Zoribushi thermos container near the train station entrance yesterday. It had a little bit of iced tea left in it. I cleaned it with a decent amount of dish soap and I let it dry overnight. 

I’m going to make two filters’ worth of coffee and bring it to him on Friday and let him keep the thermos. 

I also have some small jelly packs that I don’t intend on eating that I’ll bring to him. 

I’m contemplating finding a cheap place to buy a drawstring bag for him - he didn’t have a backpack. 

A nice salad from the store on the way there.

I haven’t engaged this closely to anyone I’ve met here in the city so far. I’ve met a woman called Nada, whose family was from Slovenia and now lived in Chicago; and Aaron, who was from New Jersey and was trying to get an apartment there. 

But Phil is now in the wake of his loss. I’m sure his gang member friends support him in some way but when I met him, he was alone.

‘I stick around, right here,’ he said. ‘From 9 to 5. It’s like the opposite of a work day. 9 PM to 5 AM.’

‘It’s like your job,’ I commented. He liked that I said that.

So I feel compelled, by some force, to extend some form of kindness to him.

Meeting Phil this Friday at 9:30 PM is what’s getting me through this week. It’s what helps me in trying to ignore everything that threatens my self-esteem and sanity.

I have a friend now. There were a few people here that I thought were friends but I realize now that they’re just paper. They melt snd burn away at the slightest sign of difficulty with me. They haven’t spoken to me since the Brooklyn incident. 

Now, I have some kind of centerpoint in my social life.

(If only I could repeat that process with someone my own age.)

Phil is what’s going to keep me on my path when I go home today.

When I see or hear her, I’ll just close my eyes and remember:

Hey, this Friday maybe, you should come play. Musicians do good here, you know. You could do pretty good, eh? And we’ll watch each other’s shit, you know what I mean? Fuckers around here trying and stealing shit. But we’ll make sure they don’t steal our shit.

I hope that this lasts.

[momentofclearity-blog1]

Day 2

Black folks, I'm not sure where this came from, not sure who came up with this ideology, but every issue CANNOT and IS NOT be the devil. More importantly, mental health cannot be directly correlated with the works of the devil or demons. Now Let Me Be Clear... this is not to take excerpts from any USA Today article or any Psychology.com study. This is from the point of view of of someone who has heard these comments ring out in the many of households that I've both lived in and visited, hearing boys told to man up or girls told to stop being a drama queen and get over it. Even the references made towards zodiac signs seems to be more of a reason to excuse behaviors and signs or justification to blow things off. WORD TO THE WISE: every gemini does not have mood swings. Every cancer is not overly emotional. Every pisces is not confused about life because their fish are swimming in opposite directions. Make no mistake, their are situations when it happens, but we cannot continue to use that as a scapegoat instead of asking the right questions to get to the bottom of issues. Many issues are serious in our communities but we place these things in a chart and place them in order of severity instead of simply trying to understand what the true cause is. Many times i've heard "oh well black people dont go through stuff like that." Or "aint nothing wrong with you. You better go grab your bible & pray. This aint nothing but the devil." It is thinking and verbiage like this that causes more issues in the long run. Mental illness knows no gender, age, socioeconomic status, etc. And damn sure knows no race. But we have made ourselves to believe that we are invincible and being so we would never have to worry about something so beneath us. Beneath us to speak with our children and comfort them rather than ridicule. Suicide as a result of mental health treatment or the lacktherof is in the top 5 leading causes of young african americans aged 15-24. Is that not reason enough to worry about the mental well being of those around us just as much as we focus on the physical aspect? But hey, what do I know. Not like growing up fearing that the schizophrenic you live with is going to invent a situation in her mind that makes her lash out at the whole family, the 7 year old included is a true event. I speak from the experiences I know. Experiences I've dealt with. Its often said that a great of blacks suffer from PTSD as a result of the slavery experienced by their ancestors and the discrimination and racial inequality that they experience at the hands of their counterparts. While I feel as though thats true as well, I'd like to think that more of this starts at home than by what we see in the media and experience in neighborhoods like the East Side, Park Hill, Montbello, etc. Its almost as though we fear the world knowing that we are imperfect. Knowing that we have flaws like any other human being. So we hide any imperfection we can. Rather the world know that we have food stamps for sale than allow our children a voice to express the fact that they are depressed or are often extremely anxious or even go through multiple mood swings & are unable to explain the reasons why. Rather than acknowledge the problem, we use the "oh shes just going through something" disclaimer to make our friends not judge us too much. Black folks, please understand the stigma that we are placing on the heads of the ones we love by doing this. The anguish that you put on a love one when you force them to deal with a level of adversity that can be treated, that can be talked about, that can be maintained and should under no circumstances be ignored. But we don't want to put a bad name on ourselves. So we do things in secrecy. Talk to the pastor & give in abundance for prayers and oils & well wishes when that same energy should be going towards finding out the triggers. Please understand, I speak on this out of personal knowledge. No book, no article, no movie, etc can tell me of what I have already dealt with and seen since 1994, if not earlier. Make no mistake, I judge no one person for the issues I have dealt with nor do I want any one person to do that to their loved ones. My hope is that we will stop being so passive to an illness or set of illnesses that can attack a person in an very aggressive manner. I've heard people told to "just suck that shit up" when they muster up the courage to tell people of the pain they have been dealing with. Hell, I heard the remarks Drake made about Kid Cudi for him checking himself into a facility to get treatment for his mental health issues. I also heard the remarks from people saying the exact same types of comments. " Oh he's ok. He'll be alright. Ain't nothing wrong with that nigga" Even worse, we MUST as a people, as a culture discontinue the word crazy as a way to describe someone who has taken a leap of faith to bring this to ones attention. Its dismissive as Dave Chapelle said. Crazy is not a term used to describe the hardship of wanting to live a productive life but not knowing how to. Crazy is not a term to use for someone that has been so battered or abused or damaged that they show signs of PTSD. Crazy is what you use to describe a crowd of Duke University students who are excitedly celebrating the victory over North Carolina rival, University of North Carolina. Crazy is a word you use to describe a sale that you took advantage of at your favorite store. Crazy is NOT a term you subject a mentally ill person to being labeled as. Regardless of the diagnosis or the reasons for wanting not to reach out for help, it is important that we look for signs or look into ways to respond more appropriately to the issues of those around us, especially our youth. Depression is real, regardless of what caused it. Schizophrenia is real. Anxiery, Bi-polar disorder as well. While the church and our communities have always been an outlet for us, it cannot be the ONLY outlet. The only source of solace from an issue that constantly makes some question if their existence is worth preserving. Let me tell you all a story of how serious mental health can get, regardless of age. Imagine a teenager. Abandoned by family. Using sports, school, or other extracurriculars to take their mind off of the lack of certain family members. The lack causes anxiety in this teen. A desire to want to fix any issues with these missing family members but an uneasy feeling that also comes about showing them that the outcome may be not be desirable. This teen decides to put their already diagnosed depression on paper. Talk about the things that have happened through pen and paper, with hopes that this will not only help with the anxiety but help fix the relationship. The teen is praised at school for their work and their writing snd finally allows the anxiety to subside and shares the work with family. Only to be told that the writing is the "dumbest shit they have ever heard" and told to "get that shit the fuck out of their face." Anxiety spikes. Depression does as well. The writing talked about a character from a book that they can relate to( the character unfortunately deals with so many issues alone that they take their own life at the end of the book). The book is almost synonymous with what the teen has experienced, but they cant seek help or even say what their issue is because it is "dumb shit" So the teen decides the only appropriate thing to do to cure the issues is exactly what the character did. So the plan is made. The plan is drawn up perfectly. The i'm sorry letter is drawn up. And the attempt is made. Not for attention. Not for people to feel sorry for the teen. But because of the fear that this situation is NEVER going to get better. How could it when your own family has turned their back on you? Made you feel like an idiot for bringing up a situation that should have been announced at least 2-3 years prior. So the plan it put into action; but the teen fails.... miserably. So much in fact that the issues only become worse and are hidden even more than they were previously not only out of fear of admitting that there was once and issue but also having to admit that an attempt at taking ones own life was also a failed attempt. A vicious ongoing cycle that the teen dealt with for years, even into adulthood... How do I know about this story you may ask? I told you I only speak out of personal experience remember...